Bellflower

by blackstarlove19

Summary:

Bellflowers symbolize unchanging love, honesty, or eternal bond. Funny my name can be translated to bellflower. When I lie to cover my knowledge. When I have lost bonds both old and new. I wonder what purpose does my life serve being here now, but, I have to keep going. Hoping I make a difference.
Also a story about a woman being reborn into the Naruto world as an Uzumaki, before the original story started, before alot of things happened and trying to survive in that world.

Chapter 1: Enter: Kikyō Uzumaki!

I died.

Well, I died in another life and then was reborn into this one. Something straight out of those fanfictions I used to read to escape the soul-sucking grind of my nine-to-five. Biggest lie ever—I was always working overtime.

I didn’t come to as a baby, more like as a toddler I was two. Sitting on the floor with toys scattered around me, my chubby hands clutching a wooden block. That’s when everything slammed into sharp focus.

The world suddenly became too much. Too bright, too loud, too… alive. People weren’t just standing there; they were glowing. Every single one of them. My head throbbed, my body felt like it was on fire, and the weight of all that sensory overload crushed me until I passed out.

When I came to, I remembered. My old life, my old name, the miserable monotony I left behind. But this new life? It was about to get a whole lot weirder.

When I woke up, I remembered my old life, and immediately learned a few interesting facts. What happened was me awakening as a Chakra sensor At least, that’s what my parents—Yui and Kai—said while fussing over me. That was my first clue.

For starters, I hadn’t been Japanese in my past life. But thanks to a near-obsessive anime phase and a brief stint trying to learn the language, I could piece together that their names were Japanese. That felt like a red flag.

The second clue was the words chakra and sensor. Chakra wasn’t just some vague spiritual energy I’d read about or seen in shows—it was real. And apparently, I had it and could sense it.

The third clue? My hair. Red. Not auburn, not ginger. A deep, unnatural scarlet that shimmered like a dye job from a salon that charged way too much. Everyone else around me had shades of the same color. Even the old folks. My brain screamed anime logic.

Then I overheard the word Uzumaki.

That was it. The final nail in the coffin of denial.

I was reborn into the Naruto universe.

“Fuck” I muttered, unable to stop myself.

Everything went still. The adults froze mid-conversation. My mother spun toward me, her dark eyes narrowing.

“Kikyō Uzumaki! Where did you learn that word?!” she screeched, her glare snapping to my father like a kunai.

I barely registered his reaction. My brain was stuck in overdrive. Uzumaki. Naruto. I was here. But where exactly in the timeline? Was this an alternate universe? Before the Uzumaki clan and Uzushiogakure fell? The specifics were fuzzy. Most fans theorized Uzushiogakure fell during the Sannin’s era, though I’d always bet it happened between the Second and Third Shinobi Wars—about 12 or 13 years before Naruto was born.

None of that mattered, though, because the one undeniable fact was this: everyone here would die soon.

The panic hit me like a rogue bijū. My breathing quickened, my vision blurred, and my heartbeat thundered in my ears. “Kikyō! Kikyō!” My mother’s voice was faint, drowned out by the storm raging in my head.

Then everything went black.

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When I woke up, the room was dimly lit, the faint smell of antiseptic in the air. The walls were plain, almost sterile, and the soft rustling of fabric caught my attention. I blinked a few times, my eyes adjusting to the light, and saw her—Yui, my mother. She was seated on a stool beside the bed, her scarlet hair pulled back into a neat braid. Her face was lined with worry, her hands clutched tightly together.

“Mom,” I croaked, my throat dry and voice barely above a whisper. It felt strange calling her that—like the word didn’t belong to me—but the warmth in her eyes when she turned to me made it feel just a little more natural.

“Kikyō,” she said softly, her voice trembling slightly as she leaned forward, brushing a cool hand over my forehead. “You scared us. You’ve been out for hours.”

Her touch was soothing, grounding me in this strange new reality. “Where… where am I?” I asked, my voice rasping.

“The infirmary,” she replied gently, reaching for a cup of water on the bedside table. She helped me sit up just enough to take a sip. The cool liquid was a relief, and I let out a shaky breath. “You fainted, and your father carried you here.”

I nodded slowly, my thoughts still sluggish. Memories of my panic surged back, and I felt my chest tighten again. “I—I didn’t mean to scare you,” I murmured, looking down at my hands, small and pale, resting on the blanket.

Her expression softened further, and she placed a hand over mine. “It’s all right. You’ve been under a lot of stress for someone so young,” she said, though there was a note of confusion in her tone. “But Kikyō… you said something before you fainted. Something you shouldn’t know at your age.”

I froze, my mind racing. Right. The word. Fuck. My mom’s reaction earlier came flooding back, and I winced internally. “I…” I struggled to come up with an excuse, but my toddler brain—or at least my toddler mouth—wasn’t cooperating.

Her eyes narrowed slightly, though not unkindly. “Where did you hear that word?”

“I-I don’t know,” I stammered, trying to keep my voice steady. “Maybe… maybe I heard it from one of the other kids?”

She frowned, her gaze searching my face for a long moment. “Hmph. I’ll have a word with the others,” she muttered, clearly unconvinced but willing to let it slide—for now.

I exhaled quietly in relief, but the tension in my chest didn’t entirely ease. I wasn’t just scared of being caught for cursing. No, this was bigger. I had to figure out where I was in the timeline, what was happening, and most importantly, how to survive.

As she smoothed the blanket over me, Yui smiled faintly. “Get some rest, Kikyō. The doctor said you’ll be fine, but you need to take it easy for a while.”

I nodded, but as I lay back, staring at the plain ceiling, my thoughts raced. Rest was the last thing on my mind. I needed a plan—and fast. If I truly was in that era of the Naruto world, then time wasn’t on my side.

“Mom…what happens now? With the Chakra thingy” I said

She sighed “Satoshi-sama, he was volunteered to help you. He’s one of the best sensors we got” Her lips pursed “And it was also suggested…to start your shinobi training”

Should I be glad that I won’t be completely useless for what I knew was coming? Or worried they want to start training a two-year-old how to kill people?

“Training?” I repeated, my voice quieter than I intended. “Like… like real training? Shinobi stuff?”

Yui’s eyes softened, though her worry didn’t fade. “Yes, Kikyō. Nothing too strenuous at first. Basic physical conditioning, chakra control exercises, and some introductory skills…Maybe early Fūinjutsu lessons. You’ll need to build a foundation early, especially since your sensory abilities awakened so young.”

I swallowed hard, my hands clenching the blanket. “Do… do all kids start that young?”

She hesitated, then shook her head. “Not usually. But you’re not like other children, Kikyō. Your abilities make you special, and in times like these… well, Uzushiogakure needs all of us to do our part, no matter how small.”

There was a sadness in her voice that hit me harder than I expected. I could see the weight of her words—the desperation of a clan fighting to survive, knowing their peaceful village wouldn’t remain untouched forever. It wasn’t just about me. It was about the Uzumaki Clan’s survival.

I took a deep breath, forcing myself to push past the fear. “Okay,” I said, trying to sound braver than I felt. “If it’ll help, I’ll do it.”

Yui’s face softened into a sad smile, and she leaned down to press a kiss to my forehead. “That’s my strong girl,” she murmured. “Don’t worry. We’ll be with you every step of the way.”

As she pulled back and tucked the blanket around me, I tried to ignore the tightness in my chest. My path was clear now—there was no avoiding it. I wasn’t just Kikyō Uzumaki anymore. I was a toddler with the weight of an entire clan’s future on my shoulders.

And the clock was ticking.

But also, I couldn’t deny I was looking forward to it. I would have been terribly bored just doing toddler stuff, when I had the mind of a twenty-eight-year-old woman. And Fūinjutsu, that was something I always wished they had expanded on more before.

Before all this, I had been a computer engineer before transitioning into a system engineer. Back then, I thrived on logic, structure, and problem-solving. A lot of fans had theorized that Fūinjutsu was like programming—symbols and sequences coming together to create something far greater. If that was true, it would be right up my alley. And I wouldn’t just be learning it—I’d be learning from the Uzumaki Clan, the masters of the art.

The thought sent a thrill through me. Maybe, just maybe, this wouldn’t be so bad after all.

“Where’s dad?” I asked

Yui smiled still patting my head “He’s bringing us some dinner. He’ll be here soon” My memories – It was strange to realize a two-year-old noticed those details from scattered conversations – told me Yui, my mom was a house-wife. She had been a shinobi but retired before my birth. My dad was an active shinobi though.

I had a ton of questions to ask, how did Uzushio get missions when they didn’t have a daimyo? Did the land of water daimyo give us missions? And if so…was that what pissed Kiri so they joined the attack against the village and clan? The attack that, in my memories of the Naruto series, led to Uzushiogakure’s destruction?

The timeline was another huge question mark. I needed to know when I was. Was the Second Shinobi War over? Had the Third started yet? And who was the current Nine-Tails Jinchūriki? Was it Kushina, or was it still Mito Uzumaki? If I could figure that out, I’d have a much clearer picture of where we stood in history.

Yui’s hand stilled on my head, and I glanced up to see her watching me, her gaze soft but searching. “You’ve been so quiet,” she said, her voice tinged with concern. “Are you feeling okay?”

I gave her the most reassuring smile I could muster. “I’m okay, Mom,” I said softly. “Just… thinking.”

She smiled back, though her worry didn’t fully fade. “You’re such a thoughtful little one,” she murmured, brushing my hair back. “You remind me of your father in that way.”

I hummed noncommittally, but my mind was still racing. I needed to get a better sense of the world outside this infirmary. If I played my cards right, maybe I could steer the upcoming conversation with my dad toward some answers—without raising suspicion.

For now, I settled back into the bed, letting my mother’s hand soothe me. The questions could wait… at least for a little while.

I lay there, staring at the ceiling, my thoughts a tangled mess. I didn’t want to die—not after being given a second chance at life. And I loved my new family, my mom and dad. The thought of losing them, of seeing them torn away from me, was unbearable. The love I felt for them was fierce and raw, something I hadn’t expected to grow so quickly in my new life. But even with all that resolve, one brutal truth stared me in the face: I was a toddler.

What could I possibly do against what I knew was coming? A joint attack by multiple hidden villages—an act of fear, jealousy, and greed—that would wipe out most of Uzushio. The proud Uzumaki Clan, scattered to the wind, left clinging to survival in distant lands. I could still remember how vividly the destruction of Uzushiogakure had been hinted at in the Naruto series. It wasn’t just the loss of a home; it was the near-erasure of a legacy.

And here I was, two years old, stuck with this foreknowledge and utterly helpless. My fists clenched at the thought. I couldn’t stop what was coming. Not now. Not as I was.

But maybe… maybe I could change something. The timeline wasn’t carved in stone. This wasn’t just a story now—it was my reality. There had to be something I could do, even if I couldn’t fight. Preparation, evacuation, a way to warn my family, my clan, someone.

Yet the crushing weight of reality loomed over me. I didn’t have years to plan and scheme like the self-insert fanfics I used to read. The attack could happen in a decade—or it could happen next year. I had no way of knowing. And without knowing when, I couldn’t act.

I forced myself to take a deep breath, trying to push the panic back down. It wasn’t like me to spiral like this. I’d been an engineer in my past life. I’d been logical, methodical, calm under pressure. I had to hold on to that part of myself now. If there was a way to change things, I’d find it. One step at a time.

For now, I needed information—about the timeline, about Uzushio’s alliances, about what my clan was doing to prepare for war. My best bet would be to ask the right questions, gather knowledge without raising suspicion. That would take time, and I’d have to tread carefully.

I squeezed my eyes shut, willing myself to rest. I didn’t have all the answers yet, but I had something more important: resolve. I wasn’t going to let my family or my clan go down without a fight.

Even if I was just a toddler, I’d find a way to make a difference. I had to.

“Mom…” I started hesitantly, my voice soft as I tried to find the right words. I had to be careful, had to frame my question like the innocent curiosity of a two-year-old. “Is there… a war going on? Is that why I need to train?”

Yui paused, her hand stilling as she tucked the blanket snugly around me. Her expression shifted, the gentle smile she’d been wearing replaced by something more guarded. She sat back slightly, her gaze searching my face as if trying to gauge where the question had come from.

“Why do you ask, Kikyō?” she said gently, her voice careful, almost soothing, but I could hear the undercurrent of tension.

I fidgeted under the blanket, looking down at my small hands. “I just… I hear people talk sometimes. And Dad’s always so busy. I thought maybe…” I trailed off, letting the sentence hang, hoping it sounded like the musings of a child rather than a veiled attempt to confirm my worst fears.

Yui’s expression softened, but the sadness from earlier was back, deeper now, like she was carrying the weight of something she didn’t want to share. She sighed, reaching out to brush a strand of hair from my face. “You’re too young to worry about things like that, Kikyō,” she said, though her voice lacked the firmness of a true dismissal.

“But…” I pressed, my heart racing. “If there’s no war, why do I need to train?”

Her lips pressed into a thin line, and she looked away for a moment, as if searching for the right words. Finally, she met my gaze again, her dark eyes filled with a mixture of love and sorrow. “The world we live in isn’t always peaceful,” she said softly. “Even if there’s no war right now, we have to be ready. Uzushio is a strong village, but it’s also small. People look at us, at our clan, and sometimes… they see us as a threat.”

I swallowed hard, my small fingers clutching the blanket tighter. She wasn’t telling me everything, but she’d said enough to confirm what I feared. There might not be an active war yet, but the danger was there, simmering beneath the surface.

“That’s why it’s important for you to train,” she continued, her voice growing steadier. “Not just to fight, but to protect yourself and the people you care about. That’s what it means to be an Uzumaki.”

Her words struck a chord deep within me. Protect the people I care about. It wasn’t just about surviving anymore. It was about them. My family. My clan. I nodded slowly, letting the determination I felt seep into my expression. “Okay,” I said softly. “I’ll train.”

Yui smiled then, leaning down to kiss my forehead. “That’s my strong girl,” she whispered. But as she pulled away, I could see the flicker of worry still lingering in her eyes.

I didn’t press her further, not now. But the confirmation was enough. The world was on the brink, and I had to be ready when it shattered.

This realization sent a shiver down my spine. The timeline was still a mystery, but this new tidbit narrowed it down a little. If the Second Shinobi War hadn’t started yet, or we were somewhere between the Second and Third, then there was still time—maybe. But what if it was earlier than I thought? Could this possibly be before even the First Shinobi War?

I glanced at my mom, studying her clothes. No, that couldn’t be it. Her outfit, while traditional, wasn’t old enough to match the era of the First War. That thought was a small relief, at least. The closer we were to Naruto’s timeline, the better chance I had of piecing things together.

Still, the gaps in my knowledge gnawed at me. I needed answers, and soon. Books and scrolls would be my best bet—assuming I could sneak away to read them without drawing too much attention. Maybe I could even ask this Satoshi-sama for clues. He was going to train me, after all. If he was the best sensor Uzushio had, there was no way he didn’t know about the broader picture.

And if he didn’t… well, I’d just have to dig until I found someone who did.

The thought of pretending to be a child genius made me chuckle quietly to myself. A two-year-old prodigy, huh? Guess that was the role I’d have to play. Not that it would be entirely fake—my adult mind would give me an edge—but still, it felt strange to think about faking brilliance in a world where being brilliant might just be a necessity for survival.

But if that’s what it took to protect my family, to give us even a sliver of hope against what was coming, then so be it. I’d play the part, ask the right questions, and learn everything I could. If the Uzumaki were going to be scattered to the wind, I was determined to survive.

I clenched my small fists beneath the blanket. Let them think I was just a child. I’d make them proud, I’d protect them, and I’d find a way to change the future.

Because I wasn’t going to let this new life end in ashes. Not this time.

“I bought ramen takeout,” Kai—my dad—announced as he stepped into the room, carrying a small stack of neatly wrapped containers. The smell of warm broth and savory toppings filled the room, making my stomach growl. He smiled broadly when he saw me awake, his expression a mix of relief and his usual easygoing energy.

“You’re up, kiddo,” he said, setting the food down on a nearby table. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m okay, Dad,” I replied, sitting up straighter and giving him my best smile. Despite everything racing through my mind, seeing him always made me feel a little better. There was something grounding about the way he carried himself—strong and confident, yet warm enough to make you feel safe.

He walked over, ruffling my hair gently. “That’s my girl. Gave us quite the scare, though.”

I winced a little, feeling guilty. “Sorry,” I murmured.

“Hey, none of that,” he said, his voice light but firm. “You’re tough. Just like your mom.”

Yui shot him a look, though there was a faint smile tugging at her lips. “She’s also smart,” she added, brushing my hair back with a fond look. “Takes after her dad in that way.”

“Of course, she does,” Kai said with a grin, sitting down beside the bed. He pulled a pair of chopsticks from one of the containers and held them up. “And that’s why she’s going to need her strength. Ready for some ramen therapy?”

I couldn’t help but giggle, nodding eagerly. “Yes, please!”

Kai handed me a small bowl, carefully balancing it so I could hold it with my tiny hands. The warmth seeped into my fingers, and I couldn’t stop the small sigh that escaped me. For a moment, the worries of war and survival melted away as I focused on the comfort of family and a bowl of ramen.

As I slurped a noodle—clumsily, thanks to my two-year-old coordination—Kai laughed. “That’s the spirit,” he said, picking up his own bowl. “Ramen makes everything better.”

For now, I let myself believe that. Even if the storm was coming, these moments reminded me of why I was determined to fight for this life. My family, my clan… they were worth every effort.

“Mom, Dad… who is Satoshi-sama?” I asked, tilting my head in curiosity. It wasn’t a name my current self—or my old self—had any recollection of, and it piqued my interest.

Kai opened his mouth immediately, his voice already halfway to a grumble. “He’s a stuck-up bast—”

Yui’s elbow jabbed sharply into his side, cutting him off mid-word. He winced, rubbing the spot as he shot her a mock-glare. “Hey! That’s uncalled for,” he muttered under his breath.

Yui ignored him entirely, her narrowed eyes locked on his until he held up his hands in a gesture of surrender. Satisfied, she turned back to me, her expression softening into the warm, maternal look I was quickly growing used to.

“Satoshi-sama is the clan heir,” she explained, her tone patient and calm. “He’s an accomplished Jōnin, and he’s well-respected in Uzushio. He’s known for his skill in sensory techniques and sealing jutsu. You’ll learn a lot from him.”

Kai muttered something under his breath—something suspiciously like arrogant show-off—but another pointed glance from Yui silenced him again.

“Is he… nice?” I asked hesitantly, unsure of what to make of the mixed reactions.

Yui hesitated for just a moment, a faint smile tugging at her lips. “He’s… focused,” she said diplomatically. “He takes his responsibilities very seriously, and he’ll expect you to do the same.”

Kai snorted. “That’s one way of putting it.”

She ignored him again and leaned down, brushing a gentle hand through my hair. “Don’t worry, Kikyō. He’s a good teacher. He’ll help you get stronger.”

I nodded slowly, trying to digest the information. A clan heir, a skilled Jōnin, and apparently a bit of a divisive figure, if my parents’ reactions were anything to go by. It sounded like I’d be training under someone with a lot of expectations—not exactly comforting, but if he was as skilled as they said, it could be my best chance to prepare for what was coming.

“Okay,” I said, giving them both a small smile. “I’ll do my best.”

Yui’s smile deepened, and Kai ruffled my hair again with a chuckle. “That’s all we can ask for, kiddo,” he said. “Just… don’t let him boss you around too much, yeah?”

“Kai,” Yui scolded, her voice tinged with exasperation, but her lips twitched in amusement.

I giggled quietly, feeling a little more at ease. Satoshi-sama sounded intimidating, but if my parents trusted him enough to train me, then I’d trust their judgment—for now. Besides, I’d figure out the truth soon enough.

I got cleared that same day. Kai carried me as we headed outside, and for a brief moment, I felt relief. Thank God— Kami? —that I could finally leave the infirmary. But that relief didn’t last.

The moment we hit the street, everything was too much again. The brightness of the world stabbed at my eyes, the sheer number of people overwhelming my senses. It wasn’t just that there were so many—it was that they all shone with different colors, some brighter than others, like they were lanterns blazing in the afternoon sun. The sensory overload was like a wave crashing over me, relentless and suffocating.

I squeezed my eyes shut, burying my face in Kai’s shoulder. But it didn’t help. The glow of their chakra was something I couldn’t block out, and it wasn’t just visual. I felt it—a pulsing awareness at the edge of my mind that wouldn’t stop. Covering my ears didn’t help either. It wasn’t sound; it was a sixth sense, one I didn’t know how to control.

“Hang on, kiddo,” Kai murmured, rubbing my back in soothing circles as he walked. His voice was calm, a steady anchor in the chaos. “We’ll be home soon. Just hold on.”

I barely registered his words, focusing instead on his warmth and the steady rhythm of his footsteps. It was the only thing grounding me in the chaos. My tiny hands clung to his shirt as I tried to block it all out, my breathing shaky. I have to figure out how to stop this, I thought. I can’t live like this.

As overwhelming as it was, one thing became painfully clear: being a chakra sensor was going to take more than just training—it was going to take everything I had just to stay sane.

At home, it finally clicked why I had been okay in the infirmary room. Yui and Kai had been suppressing their chakras the entire time. The thought made me a million times more grateful for them. They must’ve realized how overwhelming it was for me, even without me saying a word.

The relief I felt was immeasurable, but it also raised another concern—what would happen when I started meeting people who didn’t suppress their chakra? I shuddered at the thought.

For now, I was thankful my range wasn’t anything insane. The walls of the house were enough to block out most of the outside interference. At least here, in the comfort of home, I could breathe again. The oppressive wave of chakra signatures wasn’t pressing down on me like before.

I sank into the soft cushions of the living room, letting out a shaky sigh. This wasn’t just a power to figure out—it was something I needed to survive.

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Later that night, in the quiet comfort of my room, I stood in front of the mirror, the dim light casting a soft glow over my small frame. It felt surreal to study myself like this, knowing that the face staring back wasn’t the one I had lived with for twenty-eight years. Yet, it didn’t feel wrong.

Scarlet-red hair framed my face, vibrant and rich—a stark contrast to the black hair I used to have. It shone faintly in the light, almost too perfect, like something out of a dream. My old dark brown eyes had been replaced with striking purple ones, deep and vivid. They didn’t look human, not in the way I was used to, but they were undeniably mine now.

My skin tone was familiar, about the same as before, a small comfort in the sea of change. My features, though, were unmistakably those of a child. Chubby cheeks, wide eyes, and soft, round lines that made me look so much younger than I felt inside.

I tilted my head, studying the reflection carefully, searching for any sense of disconnect. But… there wasn’t any. As different as this body was, it didn’t feel wrong. It felt right in a way I hadn’t expected.

Maybe it was because of how deeply I’d already started to care about Yui and Kai. Maybe it was the undeniable connection I felt to this world. Whatever the reason, I was glad—relieved, even—that I didn’t feel like a stranger in my own skin.

I reached up, running a small hand through my hair, watching the way the strands slipped through my fingers. It would take some getting used to, sure. But this was me now. Kikyō Uzumaki. Scarlet hair, purple eyes, and all.

And for the first time since I’d woken up in this world, I didn’t feel like I was mourning who I used to be. I wasn’t just Kikyō Uzumaki by name—I was starting to become her. Me.

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The next morning, a knock on the front door interrupted breakfast. I looked up from my bowl of rice and fish as Kai stood, stretching before heading to answer it. When he came back, he wasn’t alone. Another redhead followed behind him—a man who immediately drew my attention.

He was tall—though to be fair, everyone was tall to me right now. His build wasn’t bulky, but his muscles were defined, clearly honed from years of training. What really caught my attention, though, was the unexpected detail of a lollipop sticking out of his mouth. I blinked, momentarily thrown off by the incongruity.

“Satoshi-sama, you’re… early,” Yui remarked, her tone polite but tinged with mild surprise.

I turned my attention back to the man, narrowing my eyes slightly. His chakra wasn’t fully suppressed like Yui’s and Kai’s, but it wasn’t overwhelming either. It was controlled, deliberate, and I realized with a start that it was moving—in patterns. I couldn’t help but focus on it, trying to make sense of the flowing, shifting sensation that almost seemed alive.

And then I realized he was watching me just as intently.

“I wanted to see the kid my dad stuck me with,” Satoshi replied casually, his tone dismissive but not entirely unkind. He looked me up and down, the lollipop in his mouth shifting slightly as he smirked. “You’re tiny.”

I bristled instinctively, my cheeks puffing out in indignation. “I’m two!” I shot back, my voice coming out higher and squeakier than I intended.

Kai chuckled, clearly amused, while Yui pressed a hand to her mouth, hiding her own smile. Satoshi raised an eyebrow at my reaction, the corner of his mouth quirking up slightly. “Hmm. At least you’ve got some spirit,” he said, crouching down to meet my eyes. “That’s something.”

I didn’t know whether to feel insulted or validated by his words, so I settled for glaring at him, my purple eyes narrowing further. “Are you going to call me tiny the whole time?” I muttered, crossing my arms over my chest.

Satoshi’s smirk widened, and he leaned back on his heels, clearly amused. “Only if you don’t prove me wrong, kid,” he said, his tone almost teasing.

Yui cleared her throat, stepping in before I could reply. “Satoshi-sama, perhaps we should discuss the training schedule?” she suggested, her tone a bit sharper now.

“Right, right,” Satoshi said, standing and brushing off his pants. “Let’s get to it, then. We’ll see if this kid got what it takes.”

I watched him carefully as he turned toward Yui, already mentally preparing myself. If he thought I was going to back down or be intimidated, he had another thing coming. Tiny or not, I was going to prove I could handle this.

And maybe, just maybe, figure out why his chakra moved the way it did.

As Satoshi turned to Yui, I couldn’t stop myself from glancing at his chakra again. It was so different from what I’d sensed before—structured, flowing in deliberate patterns, almost like a dance. My brows furrowed as I tried to make sense of it. Did he do that on purpose? Or was it just something that happened naturally with people like him?

I wasn’t sure yet, but one thing was clear: it wasn’t random. Every movement, every shift seemed intentional, as if he were subtly weaving something unseen just beneath the surface. The idea made my skin prickle with curiosity—and a bit of unease. If this was what a skilled sensor could do, then I had a lot to learn.

Satoshi caught me staring. His smirk returned, sharper this time, and his eyes glittered with amusement. “What’s the matter, kid?” he asked, his voice light but probing. “Never seen someone like me before?”

I straightened up, trying not to let my discomfort show. “Your chakra…” I started, then trailed off, biting my lip. How could I phrase this without sounding too perceptive? “It’s… weird.”

Kai choked on his tea, while Yui shot me a sharp look that screamed, Behave! But Satoshi didn’t seem offended. If anything, he looked intrigued.

“Weird, huh?” he repeated, his smirk softening into something more thoughtful. He tapped his temple with the lollipop stick, as though considering how to respond. “You’ve got sharp eyes for a toddler.”

My cheeks flushed at the backhanded compliment, but I held his gaze. “It’s moving,” I said carefully, trying not to sound like I was accusing him of something. “In patterns. Is that… normal?”

Satoshi’s expression shifted, a flicker of something unreadable crossing his face before he covered it with a lazy grin. “Guess you’ll have to stick around to find out,” he said cryptically, standing back up and shoving his hands into his pockets.

“Don’t be too hard on her,” Kai interjected, his tone half-joking but with a protective edge. “She’s still a kid, after all.”

“I’m aware,” Satoshi said, though his eyes flicked back to me with an intensity that made my stomach flip. “But kids grow fast. Especially Uzumaki kids.”

Yui cleared her throat again, clearly trying to redirect the conversation. “Shall we move to the training ground, Satoshi-sama? I’ll get Kikyō ready.”

“Sure,” Satoshi replied, turning toward the door. “Don’t keep me waiting too long, though. I’ve got a tight schedule. And you two aren’t coming. Just the kid.”

He said it so casually, like it was the most natural thing in the world. Yui’s expression tightened slightly, her tone calm but carrying an undertone of unease. “Just the kid?” she repeated.

Satoshi paused in the doorway, glancing back with his ever-present smirk. “Yeah. Just the kid. If she’s going to train, she needs to learn how to handle herself without her parents hovering around.”

Kai’s eyebrows shot up, and his lips twitched as though he were holding back a retort. Yui, on the other hand, kept her composure, though I could see the tension in her posture. She didn’t like it, but she wasn’t going to argue—not here, at least.

“Fine,” she said after a moment, her voice even. She crouched down to my level, straightening the hem of my shirt and brushing a stray strand of hair from my face. “Be respectful, Kikyō. Listen carefully and do your best. Okay?”

I nodded, feeling a mix of excitement and nervousness bubbling in my chest. “Okay, Mom,” I said softly.

Kai crossed his arms and gave Satoshi a mock glare. “If she comes back crying, I’ll be the one waiting for you, Satoshi.”

Satoshi’s smirk widened. “Noted,” he said lazily, waving a hand as though brushing off the remark. “Don’t worry, I’ll take good care of her. Besides, I’m not that scary… am I?” He shot me a look, one eyebrow raised.

I squared my shoulders and lifted my chin. “You don’t scare me,” I said, though my voice wavered just a little at the end.

“Good,” he replied, his grin turning sharp. “You’ll need that.”

With that, he stepped outside, leaving the door open for me to follow. I hesitated, glancing back at Yui and Kai. They both gave me encouraging smiles, though I could see the worry they were trying to hide.

“Go on,” Yui said gently, her hand resting on my shoulder for a brief moment before she let go.

Taking a deep breath, I turned and trotted after Satoshi. The morning sun was bright, and the air was crisp, carrying the faint scent of salt from the sea. Satoshi was already a few steps ahead, walking with an easy, confident stride. I hurried to catch up, my short legs working overtime to keep pace.

As we headed toward the training grounds, I couldn’t help but feel the weight of the moment. This was the start of something big—something that could change everything. And whether I liked it or not, Satoshi-sama was going to be a part of it.

Good, I thought again, my determination solidifying. Let’s see what you’ve got.

 

 

 

Chapter 2: The Bonds of Training

The anime always showed that training grounds matched the village. Konoha had plains and forests, perfect for blending into the terrain. Suna had deserts—and more deserts—where survival itself was part of the training. Uzushio, though? Uzushio had beaches, cliffs, and whirlpools—violent, swirling currents in the water that seemed to pulse with life.

As Satoshi led me toward the training grounds, the salty breeze stung my nose, and the crash of waves echoed off the cliffs. The sun reflected off the water, bright and unrelenting. It was breathtakingly beautiful, but there was a sharpness to it, a danger that lurked beneath the surface. The kind of beauty that came with jagged edges.

I stumbled as the sand shifted beneath my feet, my short legs struggling to keep up with Satoshi’s long strides. He didn’t slow down. Hands stuffed into his pockets, the lollipop stick protruding lazily from his mouth, he glanced over his shoulder and smirked.

“Keep up, kid,” he said, his tone casual, almost bored.

“I’m trying!” I huffed, brushing a strand of scarlet hair out of my face. The wind wasn’t helping.

Satoshi stopped abruptly, and I nearly walked into him. He turned and crouched down to look me in the eyes. His smirk disappeared, replaced by a more serious expression. “Trying isn’t enough out here,” he said. “Uzushio doesn’t have the luxury of waiting for you to catch up. If you fall behind, you’re dead weight. Got it?”

I swallowed hard and nodded, the weight of his words settling in my chest. He wasn’t being cruel—he was being honest. And I hated how much it stung.

“Good,” he said, standing up and brushing sand off his pants. “Because today, you’re going to learn two things: how to focus and how to endure.”

He pointed toward a flat stretch of sand near the water’s edge. The tide was coming in, waves crawling closer with every crash. “That’s your first training ground,” he said, gesturing to the shoreline. “Hope you don’t mind getting wet.”

“You know I don’t have any training, right?” I blurted, panic creeping into my voice. “And you’re acting like I’m about to be thrown into a war. I’m just a two-year-old girl!”

Satoshi raised an eyebrow, tilting his head slightly. Then, without missing a beat, he plucked the lollipop from his mouth and pointed the stick at me like it was a kunai. “Exactly,” he said, his tone blunt.

I blinked, thrown by the response. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means,” he said, smirking, “you’re a two-year-old Uzumaki girl. That’s already two reasons you’re not ordinary. You’re part of this clan, and that comes with expectations—whether you like it or not.”

I opened my mouth to argue, but he cut me off, waving the lollipop stick for emphasis. “Do you think the people who see our clan as a threat are going to care how old you are? No. They’ll see your hair, your name, and they’ll assume you’re a threat—even if you aren’t one yet.”

His words hit harder than I expected. I clamped my mouth shut, gripping the hem of my shirt as the waves crashed in the background. He wasn’t wrong, but hearing it said so plainly made my chest tighten.

“Look,” he said, his tone softening slightly, “I get it. You’re scared. You don’t know what you’re doing yet. That’s fine. That’s why I’m here—to make sure you’re ready when the time comes.”

He crouched down again, his gaze steady and serious. “You might not like it, but if we start now, you’ll have a chance to protect yourself—and the people you care about. That’s what matters.”

I swallowed hard, the lump in my throat making it difficult to respond. But I didn’t look away. For all his teasing and smirking, Satoshi’s eyes carried a weight that made it clear he wasn’t just trying to scare me.

“Okay,” I said softly, nodding. “I’ll try.”

“Not try,” he corrected, standing back up and sticking the lollipop back into his mouth. “You’ll do. Now get to it, kid.”

He gestured toward the sand again, and I took a deep breath, stepping forward. The waves were closer now, frothing at the edges as they crept up the shore.

“Okay…” I said hesitantly, steeling myself. “What do I need to do?”

Satoshi’s smirk returned, sharp and almost challenging. “Simple,” he said. “Stand there.”

I blinked, staring at him. “That’s it? Stand there?”

“Yup,” he replied, popping the lollipop back into his mouth.

I glanced back at the waves, watching as they crept closer, the cold spray reaching toward my feet. “You want me to… just stand in the water?”

“Not just stand,” he said, his tone sharpening. “Stand still. Feel the chakra around you—mine, the water’s, the air’s. Let it flow into your senses without letting it overwhelm you. It’s like any other sense, kid. You just need to learn how to process the information it’s giving you. Right now, your chakra sense is screaming at you because it’s new. But the more you focus, the quieter it’ll get.”

I frowned, trying to wrap my head around his explanation. It sounded straightforward enough, but the challenge in his tone told me it wouldn’t be that simple.

“And what happens if I move?” I asked cautiously, eyeing the waves as they climbed up the beach.

“Then you try again,” he said with a shrug, as if it were obvious. “And again. Until you stop running from what you’re sensing and start dealing with it.”

The simplicity of his words carried a gravity that made my stomach twist. This wasn’t something I could avoid. If I didn’t learn to manage my abilities, they’d manage me—and not in a good way.

Taking a deep breath, I stepped closer to the water. The first wave lapped over my feet, icy and relentless. I shivered but stayed rooted in place.

“Stand still,” I muttered to myself. “Focus. Just… focus.”

The sound of the ocean roared in my ears, and the faint hum of Satoshi’s chakra pulsed like a distant drumbeat behind me. My heart raced as I closed my eyes, trying to tune into the sensations without letting them swallow me whole.

The water surged higher, splashing against my ankles with enough force to make my legs tremble. The cold seeped into my bones, and my instincts screamed at me to move, to flee. But I clenched my fists and held my ground.

“Good,” Satoshi called out, his voice steady and encouraging. “Now stop fighting it. Feel it. Let the chakra come to you.”

Easier said than done. But if this was the first step to controlling my senses, I wasn’t going to let it beat me. I’d make it work—one wave at a time.

The water was cold, which made sense—it was February. But I didn’t move.

In my old life, I’d been from a hot country. More Suna-like. This kind of cold was new to me, and it seeped into my bones in a way that made me want to jump back onto the dry sand. But then again, we didn’t have chakra back there—thank Kami for that. The weapons we had were already more than enough.

Chakra. The word rolled through my mind, an idea more real now than it ever had been. In Naruto, chakra was a mix of physical and spiritual energies. That probably explained why it felt so different for everyone. It wasn’t just a glow or a hum—it was personal, unique to each individual.

The more I focused and ignored the pounding in my head, the more I started to notice those differences. The colors weren’t just colors—they were more. A texture, a taste, a smell… something intangible but unmistakable.

Satoshi’s chakra, for instance. It was a swirling blend of bluish-red, sharp and deliberate. But there was something else—a faint undertone that caught me off guard. I narrowed my focus, trying to pin it down. Was that… tobacco?

I opened my eyes, the thought spilling out before I could stop it. “Did you use to smoke?”

Satoshi, who had been leaning casually against a nearby rock, froze mid-lick on his lollipop. He arched an eyebrow, clearly taken off guard. “What?”

I pointed at him, water sloshing around my ankles as I took a hesitant step forward. “Your chakra. It smells—or, I don’t know, it feels—like tobacco. Did you use to smoke? Is that why you’re always sucking on a lollipop?”

His expression shifted, surprise melting into faint amusement. He popped the lollipop out of his mouth, twirling it lazily between his fingers. “Well, aren’t you perceptive,” he said, his tone teasing but with a curious edge.

“So… is it true?” I pressed, ignoring the waves that surged higher against my legs.

Satoshi sighed, shaking his head slightly. “Not bad, kid,” he muttered under his breath before finally answering. “Yeah, I used to. Quit a few years ago. Figured it wasn’t exactly the healthiest habit for a shinobi, but old cravings die hard.” He gestured to the lollipop. “This helps.”

I blinked, caught somewhere between fascination and disbelief. “You mean you’re trading cigarettes for candy?”

His smirk returned, sharper this time. “Would you rather I smell like smoke?”

I wrinkled my nose at the thought and shook my head quickly. “Nope. Candy’s fine.”

He chuckled, popping the lollipop back into his mouth. “Thought so. Now quit stalling and focus. If you’re already noticing stuff like that, you’ve got potential. Don’t waste it.”

His words, praise in their own gruff way, sent a flicker of pride through me. I turned back to the water, letting the waves crash against me as I tried to refocus on the sensations around me. The pounding in my head was still there, relentless and overwhelming, but now I had something to hold onto—an anchor in the chaos.

Satoshi’s chakra—tobacco and all—became my constant. I focused on it, letting it ground me as the tide pulled at my feet. One step closer, I thought. One step closer to control.

><><><><><><><>< 

The question had been nagging at me, and I couldn’t hold it in any longer. “Why… does the water and trees have chakra?”

I hesitated, watching Satoshi carefully for his reaction. My anime knowledge told me this wasn’t supposed to happen. This was Natural Chakra—the kind only sages were supposed to sense. My mind flashed to Gamakichi’s explanation to Naruto: “You need to die, Naruto.”

That line had always stuck with me—a chilling but powerful truth about sensing and wielding natural energy. But why could I feel it now, as a toddler, standing knee-deep in freezing water? Was it because I’d been reborn?

Satoshi didn’t respond immediately. He tilted his head, studying me with a level of scrutiny that made me shift uncomfortably. Finally, he let out a low whistle. “Huh. You can pick up on that already?”

I blinked, caught off guard by his casual tone. “So… it’s a thing?” I asked, my voice quieter now.

“Yeah, it’s a thing,” he said, leaning back against the rock. “You’re sensing the natural chakra in the environment. Water, trees, the wind—it’s all got chakra. But not everyone can feel it. In fact…” He paused, his gaze sharpening as he looked at me. “Most people can’t. You sure you’ve never trained before?”

I shook my head quickly, clutching the hem of my shirt. “I told you, I don’t know anything about this! I just… noticed it.”

Satoshi hummed thoughtfully, pulling the lollipop out of his mouth and tapping it against his chin. “Interesting. Most sensors don’t start picking up on natural energy until they’ve been doing this for years—if they ever do. You’re either a natural prodigy…” His smirk widened slightly. “Or really lucky.”

I wasn’t sure if it was a compliment or just another tease, but it didn’t ease the nervous knot in my stomach.

“But isn’t that… dangerous?” I asked cautiously. “I thought you had to be a Sage to sense natural chakra. Isn’t it supposed to, like, kill you or turn you into a statue or something if you don’t know what you’re doing?”

Satoshi arched an eyebrow, clearly amused now. “You’ve been reading some interesting scrolls, kid.”

I opened my mouth to protest, but he held up a hand. “Relax. You’re not about to keel over and turn into stone. Natural chakra is dangerous if you try to use it without preparation. But just sensing it? That’s harmless. If anything, it’s an advantage.”

“An advantage?”

He nodded. “It means your sensory range isn’t limited to just people. You can read the world around you—the terrain, the elements, everything. If you can control it, that kind of awareness can make you unstoppable. But…” His gaze darkened slightly. “It’s also a double-edged sword. The more you sense, the easier it is to get overwhelmed. And if you don’t learn to filter it out, it’ll bury you.”

His words sent a chill down my spine. An advantage, sure—but one that came with immense responsibility.

“So… what do I do?” I asked, my voice quieter now.

Satoshi shrugged, his smirk returning. “You do what you’re already doing. Stand there. Feel it. Learn how to let it in without letting it take over. It’s not about blocking it—it’s about finding balance.”

I turned back to the waves, biting my lip. The water tugged at me, its chakra pulsing faintly in the background, mingling with the hum of the trees and the faint traces of Satoshi’s presence. It was too much—too big—but I had no choice but to face it.

One wave at a time, I reminded myself, grounding against the tide’s pull. I’ll figure this out. I have to.

><><><><><><>< 

“How far can you sense… um… sensei?” I tried the word cautiously, unsure if it was the right thing to call him.

Satoshi glanced at me, one eyebrow arching in mild amusement. “Sensei, huh? Sure, why not. Got a nice ring to it.” He grinned, gesturing lazily toward the horizon. “How far? Let’s see... I can sense this entire village. Take a guess, kid.”

My eyes widened. The entire village?

That wasn’t just impressive—it was terrifying. Uzumaki were a formidable clan, sure, but this level of sensory ability? No wonder they were feared. No wonder the only way to take them down had been through sheer, overwhelming numbers.

I turned back toward the waves, the weight of what he’d just said settling over me like the tide. “The whole village,” I murmured, half to myself. “That’s… insane.”

“It’s not just about range,” Satoshi added, his voice dropping into a more serious tone. “It’s about detail. A sensor who can’t interpret what they’re feeling is as good as blind. It’s like having perfect vision but no idea what you’re looking at. That’s why you start small—get a handle on the basics before worrying about how far you can go.”

I nodded, letting his words sink in. The idea of sensing a whole village felt impossible, but he was right. I could barely handle the chakra in the waves at my feet without feeling like my head might split open.

“How long did it take you?” I asked quietly, glancing back at him over my shoulder. “To get that good?”

Satoshi smirked, leaning casually against the rock again. “A while,” he admitted. “You’re not gonna like the answer, but there’s no shortcut for this stuff. Hours, days, years of practice. The only way to get there is to start where you are and keep going.”

I bit my lip, the weight of his words pressing down on me. It wasn’t just about talent—it was effort, perseverance. That was reassuring in a way, but daunting too.

“Then I guess I better start,” I said softly, turning back to the water. The waves crashed against my legs, cold and relentless, but I stayed rooted, focusing on the sensation of chakra swirling around me.

“Not bad,” Satoshi said after a moment, his voice tinged with approval. “You’ve got the right attitude. Just remember—one step at a time. You’re not gonna sense the whole village overnight. But if you stick with it...” His grin turned sharp. “You might surprise yourself.”

I clenched my fists, determination flaring in my chest. If he could do it, so could I. Maybe, just maybe, I’d learn to surpass him one day.

And, hopefully, survive the storm I knew was coming.

><><><><><><>< 

The rest of the morning passed like that. My head pounded as I worked through the overwhelming sensations crashing into me from every direction. It was like when you suddenly notice things you’d always tuned out—the hum of electricity, the ticking of a clock, the faint creak of the floorboards. Each one added to the cacophony, making it harder to focus.

Bit by bit, I tried to tune them out. It wasn’t perfect, and the effort felt like chipping away at a mountain with a spoon, but I made progress. The wild surge of the water’s chakra became slightly easier to ignore. The faint hum from the distant trees softened, no longer pressing so hard against my senses.

Still, the strain was relentless. My head throbbed like a constant drumbeat, and I gritted my teeth, determined to push through. But eventually, it became too much.

“Can we rest a bit?” I asked, my voice small and strained as I turned to look at Satoshi. “My head hurts.”

He pushed off the rock he’d been leaning against, the smirk he usually wore replaced by something quieter. “Yeah, we can stop,” he said, motioning for me to come back to the shore. “You lasted longer than I expected for your first time.”

The words were meant to be encouraging, but frustration bubbled up anyway. My head felt like it might split in two, and I was still miles away from controlling any of this. “It’s so… loud,” I muttered, rubbing my temples as I trudged out of the water. “How do you deal with it?”

Satoshi handed me a towel and crouched down, his voice softer than usual. “It’s loud because you’re trying to block it all out at once,” he said. “That won’t work. You need to focus on one thing at a time. Pick something—just one—and let the rest fade into the background.”

I nodded, gripping the towel tightly as I dried my legs. His advice made sense, but it was easier said than done. The noise wasn’t just loud; it was invasive, burrowing into my mind like it belonged there.

“You’ll get there,” he added, standing back up and popping another lollipop into his mouth. “But don’t push yourself too hard, or you’ll burn out before you even start.”

I let out a shaky breath and gave him a small nod. One step at a time, I reminded myself. It wasn’t going to happen overnight, but I’d keep trying.

“Take ten,” Satoshi said, leaning back against the rock again. “Then we’ll start again—lighter this time. You’ve got the basics down. Now it’s just about refining it.”

I plopped onto the sand, letting the sun warm my skin as I closed my eyes, trying to ease the pounding in my head. This was just the beginning, and already I felt like I was in over my head.

But I couldn’t give up. Not with what was coming.

><><><><><><><>< 

“Ne, sensei…” I began hesitantly, piecing my question together. “You mentioned people coming for us because of our hair and clan name? But I thought there wasn’t a war going on.”

Satoshi glanced at me briefly before looking away, his expression unreadable. “There’s not an active war,” he said after a moment, his voice measured.

I frowned, sitting up straighter. “But if there’s no war, then why would people come for us? Isn’t Uzushio safe?”

His smirk was gone now, replaced by something heavier. He took the lollipop out of his mouth and tapped it against his thigh thoughtfully. “Safe is a relative term, kid,” he said finally. “Uzushio might not be on the frontlines, but that doesn’t mean we’re out of danger. Being strong makes you a target—always has, always will.”

I tilted my head, trying to make sense of his words. “But… isn’t that why we have allies? Konoha, right? Wouldn’t they help us if something happened?”

Satoshi let out a dry chuckle, though there was no humor in it. “Allies are great—on paper. But when push comes to shove, everyone looks out for themselves first. If things ever got bad enough that someone did come for us, don’t count on anyone riding to the rescue.”

The bluntness of his statement made my chest tighten. I swallowed hard, clutching the towel in my lap. “So… we’re on our own?”

“Pretty much,” he said with a shrug. “That’s why we train. That’s why the clan’s so focused on being strong. Because when it comes down to it, the only people we can count on are each other.”

His words hung in the air, heavy with unspoken truths. I clenched my fists, the determination I’d felt earlier flaring brighter. If that was reality, then I’d do everything I could to make sure we didn’t fall. Not this time.

Satoshi seemed to notice the shift in my expression because his smirk softened, almost approving. “Good,” he said simply, popping the lollipop back into his mouth. “You’re starting to get it. Now, ready to get back to work?”

I nodded, brushing the sand off my legs as I stood. “Yeah. Let’s do this.”

“Atta girl,” he said, his tone laced with approval. “One step at a time, remember. You’ll get there.”

And I would. No matter how impossible it seemed, I wasn’t going to let Uzushio fall without a fight.

Maybe he wasn’t that bad. Shinobi are those who endure.

The phrase echoed in my mind as I watched him lean back against the rock, his gaze fixed somewhere far beyond the horizon. How much had he gone through to think like this? To speak with such certainty about survival and betrayal?

I had future knowledge—sure—but it came from a story. It might not even be reliable in this world. Still, it carried warnings that were impossible to ignore, enough to make me tread carefully. But Satoshi…

He didn’t have the luxury of warnings or foresight. What had he lived through to become like this? To hold such a hardened, unflinching view of the world?

The thought unsettled me. Satoshi wasn’t cruel—not outright—but there was a sharpness to him, an edge that hinted at scars I couldn’t see. His conviction spoke of experience, of someone who had seen too much and trusted too little. What had he endured? What had he lost?

For all his smirks and casual bravado, something about him felt heavy, like he carried a weight that never left. It wasn’t just the way he talked about the clan’s isolation or allies who wouldn’t come through. It was the way he stood, like someone bracing for a blow that might never come but had left him wary all the same.

Maybe that was why he was pushing me so hard already. Maybe he saw the same dangers I did, even if he couldn’t know when or how they’d come.

I bit my lip, glancing down at the towel in my lap. It was strange to think that someone like him—so confident, so self-assured—might have fears and doubts buried beneath the surface.

And yet, the more I thought about it, the more it made sense. The world of shinobi wasn’t kind. It never had been. If I wanted to survive—if I wanted to protect my family and my clan—I couldn’t afford to forget that.

Satoshi was a reminder of that truth, whether I liked it or not.

Maybe he wasn’t that bad. Maybe he was just… what this world had made him.

I looked up at him again, my resolve solidifying. Whatever he had been through, whatever had shaped him into the person he was now, I wasn’t going to let it break me the same way.

I’d learn from him, endure like he had, but I’d do it my way. For myself, for my family, and for Uzushio. Because no matter what came next, I wasn’t going to let this world swallow me whole.

“Can we learn something else?” I asked, the pounding in my head making me hesitant to dive back into sensory training. “Maybe chakra molding or control? Or… Fūinjutsu?”

Satoshi quirked an eyebrow, clearly amused by my sudden enthusiasm. “You’re just full of ideas, aren’t you?” he said, twirling the lollipop between his fingers. “What’s wrong? Waves too much for you already?”

I bristled at his teasing, puffing my cheeks slightly. “No! I just… think I’d like to learn something that doesn’t make my head feel like it’s about to explode.”

He chuckled, clearly enjoying my reaction. “Fair enough,” he said, his tone lighter now. “Chakra molding, huh? Guess that’s a decent place to start. Can’t do much as a shinobi if you don’t know how to shape your chakra.”

I perked up, excitement bubbling despite my exhaustion. “Really?”

“Yeah, really.” He pushed off the rock, stretching lazily before motioning for me to follow him farther from the water. “We’ll keep it simple. You’re not exactly ready to start spitting out fireballs or anything.”

I nodded eagerly, scrambling to keep up. “And Fūinjutsu? Can we try that too?”

Satoshi glanced at me over his shoulder, his expression turning serious. “Fūinjutsu’s not something you just ‘try,’ kid. It’s complicated—requires precision, patience, and a whole lot of practice. You screw it up, and you’re liable to blow yourself up—or worse.”

The bluntness of his warning made me pause, but it didn’t dampen my curiosity. “But the Uzumaki are supposed to be really good at it, right? I thought it was, like, our specialty.”

“It is,” he admitted, his voice carrying a note of pride. “And if you stick with it, you’ll learn. But you’ve gotta walk before you can run. Chakra control comes first—molding it, shaping it, making it yours. You can’t make a seal work if you can’t even manage that.”

I nodded again, determined. “Okay. Chakra control first, then Fūinjutsu later.”

“Glad you’re catching on,” he said, smirking as he crouched down to draw a small circle in the sand. “Now, let’s see what you’ve got. Sit here, cross your legs, and focus. We’ll start with the basics.”

I dropped down into the circle, crossing my legs. The sand was warm beneath me, a stark contrast to the cold water earlier.

“Close your eyes,” Satoshi instructed, his tone shifting to something more instructional. “Focus on your breathing first. In through your nose, out through your mouth. Nice and steady.”

I followed his lead, my breaths slowing.

“Now,” he continued, “imagine the energy inside you—your chakra. It’s in every part of you. Feel it. Try to picture it in your mind. Should be easy since you’re a sensor.”

It wasn’t easy. My mind wandered, the lingering ache in my head pulling at my focus. But as I concentrated, something shifted—a faint warmth in my chest, like a spark waiting to ignite.

“There you go,” Satoshi said quietly, as if sensing my progress. “That’s your chakra. Now try to move it. Picture it flowing, like water through a stream. Nice and smooth.”

I furrowed my brow, focusing harder. The warmth grew stronger, spreading through my body in faint, uneven ripples. It wasn’t smooth—not yet—but it was something.

“Not bad for a first try,” Satoshi said, his voice carrying a hint of approval. “Keep at it. The more you practice, the easier it’ll get.”

I nodded, determination flaring as I held onto the spark within me. One step at a time, I thought. If this was the foundation for everything else—Fūinjutsu, sensing, surviving—I was going to master it.

The day passed in a blur of alternating between chakra molding and sensory training. Each session left me drained in a different way—chakra molding burned through my stamina like a leaky faucet, while sensory training felt like trying to hold back a tidal wave with a teacup.

By the time the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky with streaks of orange and pink, I was utterly spent. My legs ached from sitting cross-legged for hours, my head pounded with the aftereffects of sensory overload, and my stomach growled loudly enough to make Satoshi smirk.

“Looks like somebody’s ready for dinner,” he said, leaning casually against a nearby rock. The lollipop in his mouth had been replaced at least twice during the day, the faint sound of crunching marking the passing hours.

I groaned, running a hand over my face. “I think my head’s going to explode,” I muttered. “How do people do this every day?”

“Practice,” he replied simply, his tone annoyingly calm. “And not whining about it helps too.”

I shot him a glare, though it lacked any real heat. “I wasn’t whining.”

He arched an eyebrow but didn’t argue, pushing himself off the rock and gesturing for me to follow. “Come on, kid. You’ve earned a break.”

Dragging myself to my feet, I wobbled slightly before finding my balance. Every step felt heavier than the last as we made our way back toward the village. The smell of salt and seaweed clung to the air, mingling with the faint, comforting scent of cooking fires as we approached the Uzushio residential area.

Satoshi glanced down at me as I stumbled along, his smirk softening slightly. “Not bad for your first day,” he said after a moment. “You didn’t pass out, cry, or quit. That’s better than most.”

“Thanks, I guess?” I replied, unsure if it was a compliment or just his way of not being a complete jerk.

He chuckled, shoving his hands into his pockets. “You’ll get there, kid. One day at a time.”

I didn’t respond, too tired to muster much beyond a nod. But his words lingered in my mind as we walked. One day at a time—that was all I could do. All I had to do. And no matter how much my head pounded or how empty my stomach felt, I wasn’t going to stop. Not until I was ready for whatever was coming.

We reached my home just as the last light of the day faded into twilight. The familiar sight of the house brought a wave of relief over me, the thought of rest and food giving me enough energy to stay upright.

Satoshi stopped a few steps from the door, awkwardly patting my head before turning to leave. The gesture caught me off guard, and I blinked up at him, unsure whether to laugh or protest.

“Sensei, are we meeting tomorrow?” I asked, stopping him before he could disappear into the shadows.

He turned slightly, his expression unreadable. “Yes. Meet me at the same training ground tomorrow. Nine sharp.”

“Thanks for today, sensei!” I called after him, grinning despite the exhaustion weighing me down.

He kept walking, his pace unchanging, but I thought I caught the faintest twitch of a smile before he disappeared down the street. My shout had apparently carried further than I intended because the front door opened a moment later.

Kai stood in the doorway, his sharp gaze sweeping over me before settling on my face. “What was that about?” he asked, his tone carrying a mix of curiosity and concern.

 “Was just saying goodbye, Dad,” I giggled, still catching my breath. “Were you waiting behind the door for me?”

Kai rubbed the back of his neck, his expression shifting from stern to sheepish in a matter of seconds. “Maybe,” he admitted, avoiding my gaze. “You were out all day. Your mom was worried.”

I raised an eyebrow, crossing my arms as a teasing grin spread across my face. “Mom was worried, huh? Not you?”

He huffed, feigning annoyance as he stepped aside to let me in. “Don’t push it, kid. Go on. Dinner’s ready, and you look like you could use it.”

I headed inside, my stomach growling loudly as I kicked off my sandals. “I am starving! We started today on chakra sensing and how to process all that stuff!” I said excitedly, the words tumbling out of my mouth as I followed Dad into the dining room.

He glanced over his shoulder, his lips twitching upward into a faint smile. “Satoshi already has you working on that, huh? Figures he’d start there. How’d it go?”

I plopped down at the table, grabbing a piece of bread as if I hadn’t eaten in days. “It was... intense,” I admitted between bites. “My head felt like it was going to explode at one point, but I didn’t give up! And we started on chakra molding too!”

Kai raised an eyebrow, leaning back in his chair as he folded his arms across his chest. “Chakra molding, huh? Not bad for a first day. And here I thought he’d ease you into things.”

I let out a laugh, shaking my head. “Satoshi-sensei doesn’t seem like the ‘ease into things’ type.”

He chuckled, his expression softening as he reached out to ruffle my hair. “No, he’s not. But it sounds like you’re keeping up just fine.”

I grinned, basking in the rare moment of praise. “Of course! I’m an Uzumaki, after all.”

Kai’s smile lingered, but his eyes flickered with something I couldn’t quite place—pride mixed with caution. “That you are,” he said quietly, his tone carrying a weight that made my chest tighten for a moment.

I quickly busied myself with another bite, avoiding his gaze. I didn’t tell him about sensing natural chakra. Something about it felt... private, like a secret between me and Satoshi.

“Mom’s in the kitchen,” Kai said after a beat, breaking the silence. “Go wash up. Dinner will be ready soon, and you look like you rolled around in the sand all day.”

I stuck my tongue out at him before hopping off the chair and making my way toward the bathroom. Today had been exhausting, but as I scrubbed the salt and sand from my hands, I couldn’t help but smile.

It was only the beginning, but it felt like the start of something big. Something real.

><><><><><><>< 

Satoshi Interlude

Satoshi didn’t want to be a sensei. It was a hassle dealing with bright-eyed kids who thought the world was sunshine and heroics. Never mind if they were slow, stupid, or just plain annoying.

But, of course, his old man couldn’t keep his nose out of it.

“A village leader needs to nurture the next generation,” the old man had declared, voice dripping with that self-righteous authority Satoshi had grown up despising. “It’s part of your duty, Satoshi.”

Duty. He hated that word. It was always duty with his father. Never mind what Satoshi wanted—or didn’t want.

This wasn’t supposed to be his burden. It should have been his elder brother’s.

Kazuki had been everything a leader should be—the natural-born prodigy, decisive and strong. The kind of person Satoshi could grudgingly respect, even when they didn’t see eye to eye. Kazuki always knew the right thing to say, how to carry the weight of their name without faltering.

But Kazuki was gone.

That idiot had gone and gotten himself killed in the last war, throwing himself into a losing battle with the same reckless sense of duty their father was so fond of preaching. Now Kazuki was dead, Uzushio was weaker for it, and Satoshi was the one left holding the clan’s future in his hands.

He ground his teeth at the memory of his father’s disappointment—unspoken, but painfully clear. Kazuki had been the pride of the clan. Satoshi? He was the backup plan.

And now, thanks to his father’s meddling, he was saddled with a student he didn’t want and responsibilities he’d never asked for.

Satoshi sighed as he made his way home, the lollipop in his mouth cracking between his teeth. The sharp sound cut through the rhythmic crash of waves, grounding him.

He had to admit, though—this kid wasn’t as bad as he’d expected.

Kikyō Uzumaki. Red hair, big eyes, and an annoying determination that reminded him too much of his brother. She was scrappy in a way most kids weren’t. She didn’t whine when things got tough—well, not much—and she didn’t quit, no matter how hard he pushed her.

Still, she wasn’t without her fears. Satoshi wasn’t blind to the way her hands had trembled when she first stood in the freezing water or how her voice wavered when she asked about the enemies of the Uzumaki.

On second thought… she reminded him of her.

Satoshi shook his head sharply, as though the motion could banish the thought. He couldn’t go there.

She’s young, he reminded himself. Too young to carry the weight of what’s coming. But that was why he had to push her now.

The world wasn’t kind to kids like her. The Uzumaki name might as well be a target painted on her back, and being a prodigy? That would only make the bullseye bigger. If he didn’t toughen her up now, she wouldn’t stand a chance.

Satoshi rolled the lollipop stick between his fingers, his gaze drifting toward the waves. He hated this role—this whole sensei thing. But Kikyo wasn’t just any kid. She was a prodigy in the making, whether she realized it or not.

And for all his grumbling, there was a part of him—a very small, grudging part—that wanted to see what she could become.

Kazuki would’ve been better at this. He would’ve known what to say, how to guide her without pushing her too far, how to make her trust him without forcing it.

And her. She would’ve known exactly what to do, too.

But Kazuki was dead, and she was gone. That left Satoshi.

“Figures,” he muttered, popping a new lollipop into his mouth.

This wasn’t the life he wanted, but it was the one he’d been left with.

And if duty was what it took to keep Uzushio standing, he’d endure it.

Even if it meant being the sensei he swore he’d never become.

 

 

 

Chapter 3: Days in Uzushiogakure

Uzushiogakure, the Hidden Eddy Village of the Land of Whirlpools, stood apart from the other hidden villages. Unlike its counterparts, it didn’t have a daimyo or a kage. Instead, it was governed by the leader of the Uzumaki Clan—currently Takumi Uzumaki, Satoshi’s father.

Takumi was an old man by most standards, well into his sixties, though for an Uzumaki, that was barely middle-aged. Longevity was a hallmark of their clan, along with their resilience and mastery of seals. Despite his years, Takumi’s presence commanded respect, his sharp eyes and steady demeanor a reminder that age hadn’t dulled his strength or intellect.

The village itself was as unique as the people who lived there. Built on a rising island surrounded by the churning waters of the Land of Whirlpools, Uzushiogakure was a place of stone and simplicity. Its buildings, small but sturdy, spiraled upward along the mountain slopes, each level connected by winding paths and stone staircases.

At the very top of the village stood the main building—a grand structure that served as the administrative and cultural heart of Uzushiogakure. From above, the village was said to resemble a massive whirlpool, its layout echoing the natural currents that gave the land its name. The architecture seemed to embrace the forces of nature rather than defy them, a testament to the Uzumaki Clan’s harmony with their environment.

The roar of the waves and the distant hum of chakra-rich whirlpools created a constant backdrop, a reminder of the village's unique identity.

This was my home.

With my ninja training underway under Satoshi’s sharp guidance, Yui decided it was time to start my education in general knowledge. We began with the basics—learning about the Uzumaki Clan, its history, and its traditions. From there, we moved on to geography, the lands beyond Uzushio, and other practical topics.

Then came other subjects, Math, Science and Language.

Math was easy, I had retained a good amount of my previous life’s education for the advanced topics to be mere refreshers.

Science was about the same, I expected biology would be tad different though with chakra being present but weren’t at that point yet.

Language was the worst, everything was almost new to me. I had a stint before where I had tried to learn Japanese but it had been mostly self-learning which didn’t amount to much. Here it was called common Elemental apparently, it was the main language spoken on this continent. But it was pretty much Japanese. Three kind of alphabets. Hiragana, Katakana and the worst of them Kanji.

Grammar was tough but manageable. Speaking was manageable too, My vocabulary expanded every day, and once I heard a word I seemed to get it.

Writing though was the tough part, not just because mentally you had to memorize the strokes for each Kanji – Yui was intent on making calligraphy a big deal, her words is “It’s important for when you start fūinjutsu” and Toddler hands didn’t help – but you also had to memorize each Kanji and its meanings.

I was going through it but there were too many Kanji.

When she realized I was picking things up easily—too easily—she started adding more to my plate. Clan politics, basic seal theory, and even early lessons in strategy. My days became a balancing act of physical exhaustion from Satoshi’s training and mental stretching from Yui’s lessons.

My parents seemed to take it all in stride. Their toddler, suddenly sensing chakra and asking questions that no ordinary child would, didn’t faze them much. It was almost as if they’d known—or at least suspected—before I ever remembered my past life.

That I wasn’t a normal kid.

On the ninja training front.

A few days had passed since I started training with Satoshi-sensei. Chakra sensing was still a work in progress—it was like trying to hear a whisper in a room full of shouting. But I’d finally moved on from chakra molding. Now, we were tackling chakra control.

Which, as it turned out, sucked.

I’d always assumed—thanks to anime logic—that chakra control started with tree climbing or wall walking. You know, something manageable. But no. Apparently, we were skipping the beginner steps and diving straight into water walking.

I wasn’t sure if this was a Uzushio thing or just Satoshi-sensei being... well, Satoshi-sensei. Probably the latter.

I fell again into the water…I think this was like the 56^th time. Chakra control sucked, especially if you had Uzumaki worth reserves. “Can’t we start with an easier step?” I groaned as I trudged to shore, my legs like jelly from repeated attempts.

“Think of it as a sink or swim situation” Satoshi-sensei voice was casual, not even bothering to open his eyes as he rested against the rock, twirling his lollipop lazily.

I deadpanned at him “Your supposed to say ‘no pun intended’”

“The pun was very much intended” He smirked, clearly enjoying my frustration.

I collapsed onto the sand, relieved to finally be away from the cold, crashing waves. Thankfully, I was in my bathing suit, or I’d be freezing. As I lay there catching my breath, I got a new, profound respect for Naruto and the insane amount of patience and perseverance he must’ve had to learn all this. It was harder than it looked.

A nearby seagull squawked, almost as if laughing at me, and I glared at it playfully. "Even they’re judging me now?" I muttered, shaking my head.

Standing on water… I had no idea it would be this tough. The theory was simple—balance your chakra at the soles of your feet, adjust it dynamically as you stand, and maintain it. But it felt more like trying to juggle with my feet while balancing on a tightrope over a pit of angry sharks. I couldn’t even keep the chakra steady for more than a few seconds without tipping over. The idea was that chakra wasn’t just static power—it was like a muscle, a tool that had to be trained into second nature.

Much like learning how to walk or run, chakra control required constant practice, coordination, and—apparently—humiliation. Great. I’m just a toddler in a ninja world. Every failed attempt drilled that into my brain.

Standing back up, I turned my attention back to the waves, steadying myself for another go. If this was going to be the first step toward becoming a ninja—toward actually protecting myself and the people I cared about—I had no choice but to keep going. Even if I was constantly falling into the water.

I kept going through the afternoon, with varied success, the longest time I managed to hold was about five seconds. Progress, I guess.

Around noon, I finally gave in and sloshed back to shore. Satoshi-sensei called for a switch.

“Time for chakra sensing,” he said, his tone casual.

I let out a long breath as I climbed out of the water, my legs sore and wobbly from all the failed attempts. I sat cross-legged on the sand, wiping the water from my face as I steadied myself. I was tired—drained, really—but there was no time to rest. If anything, this next training would probably be just as taxing.

We had moved from simply standing in water to the next step: chakra sensing. But it wasn’t just about feeling the flow of chakra anymore; it was about filtering everything I sensed.

Satoshi-sensei gave me the same instruction he always did: “Focus on everything around you. Feel everything, but don’t let it overwhelm you. Try to distinguish each thing you sense.”

It sounded simple enough, but it felt like trying to pick individual threads from a tangled mess of yarn. The goal wasn’t just to not be overwhelmed, but to actually identify each person or thing I sensed, and separate them from the chaotic flood of energy I was feeling.

The sensation of chakra was... intense. It buzzed around me like a swarm of bees, but each thing I sensed had its own unique rhythm and pulse. Satoshi-sensei’s chakra was unmistakable—sharp and precise, like the sting of a needle. The waves had a steady, calming pulse, and the trees hummed with a softer, more fluctuating energy.

But it wasn’t just the natural world around me; it was the presence of people too. The warmth of Satoshi’s chakra was easy enough to feel. But what about the other, smaller traces around the edges? Was that another person’s presence? Or something else entirely?

As I closed my eyes and tried to filter the sensations, a headache started to build behind my eyes. The flood of chakra was maddening, overwhelming in a way that made me feel like I was drowning again—this time in invisible energy instead of water.

I focused, blocking out the panic and forcing my senses to sort through the static. Slowly, I started distinguishing the pulsing hums, the vibrations, the faint traces of things around me. One at a time, the world started to make sense again.

Still, I had a long way to go before I could do this without feeling like I was about to collapse from the strain.

While prolonged use still gave me a headache, actually seeing the world through chakra was... beautiful. I had expected something like what the anime depicted, but the studio never showed it in full. In the manga, it was mentioned, but since it was black and white, they never really gave it the vibrancy I was experiencing now.

Every person’s chakra was different, not just in intensity but in color too. The colors weren’t the only part of it, though. It was a mix of taste, smell, feel—everything seemed more tangible and real. It wasn’t like looking at the world through my eyes anymore; it was like the world had become a living, breathing thing, an intricate dance of energy.

Some of it was overwhelming, like a thousand sensations hitting me all at once, but it was also mesmerizing. The world was alive in a way I’d never experienced before in my old life. It was like I had opened my eyes for the first time. And despite the overwhelming flood of information, I couldn’t help but be drawn to it. I wanted to understand more.

Thankfully, I’d managed to reign it in enough to walk through crowds without losing my mind. At first, just passing by people was enough to make me dizzy, feeling everyone’s chakra overlapping and clashing together. Now, it was still a lot, but I had learned how to focus and filter the chaos, even if it took most of my concentration.

My new home, my clan, they weren’t perfect though, and being the weird toddler that can speak in full sentences and do ninja stuff might have been admired by Adults but, kids didn’t think the same.

The day before, I’d gotten a break from the never-ending lessons Yui insisted on—well, sort of. She had pushed me outside to play with the others, insisting that I needed to be a "normal" child for once instead of keeping my head buried in books. The suggestion was meant to be a reprieve, but I hadn’t been prepared for what it would actually mean.

I returned later that day, disheveled, tears welling up in my eyes—not from the physical pain, though there had been some of that—but from the humiliation. I had been pushed around by the other kids, and things had been thrown at me. I wasn't just hurt by the sting of the rocks or the insult of their words. It was worse than that—I was twenty-eight years old in my mind, but to them, I was just a weird, grown-up kid with too many strange abilities.

It wasn’t supposed to feel like this. I wasn’t supposed to be the one on the receiving end of ridicule. But here I was, a grown adult trapped in the body of a toddler, with no way to escape the shame of being treated like I didn’t belong.

So, I had come to accept that for years in the future – assuming we all survive the upcoming attack I knew to come – my only friends would be books, my parents and…whatever I had with Satoshi-sensei.

Which was exactly why, the next time I went out, I decided to explore the village. I needed a break from training and studying, and what better way than to immerse myself in something new? I stumbled upon a few small stores, one of which had a bakery that made the most amazing Taiyaki I had ever tasted. But the real find, the thing that made my heart race, was the village library.

It wasn’t huge just by toddler standards—it was a massive building by any measure, easily the size of some of the largest libraries in the world. A sprawling collection of books and scrolls stacked floor to ceiling, each shelf brimming with knowledge, old and new. I could already imagine myself losing hours, maybe even days, wandering its halls, reading anything and everything I could get my hands on.

I got a lecture after that, of course. Why? Well, let’s just say I might have gotten a little... carried away.

I had found the section of the library dedicated to Fūinjutsu. It was like the heavens had opened and the sun shone down just for me. I couldn’t help myself. I devoured every book, every scroll, absorbing the concepts like a sponge. The theories behind seals, the intricate methods, the history—everything fascinated me. I thought about how useful it would be to master these seals.

They had been right for the most part about Fūinjutsu in comparison to programming. Algorithms, critical thinking, problem-solving, Math, language. The same things that went into making code went into making seals.

I stayed up late into the night at home, going over the texts. My eyes were red and tired from lack of sleep, but I couldn’t stop myself. I had to try it. I was determined to at least create one small seal. Maybe it wouldn’t work the first time, but it would be a start, my ‘Hello, World!’. So, I found some parchment, grabbed a calligraphy brush, and tried my hand at drawing a basic sealing array.

It wasn’t pretty. In fact, it was a mess. The seal looked like something a toddler might draw while trying to create a magic circle from scratch. But in the center, there was a faint pulse of chakra, a tiny flicker of energy that suggested I might actually be onto something.

Unfortunately, the result was a bit more than I bargained for. The seal fizzled out in a spectacular explosion of sparks, sending me stumbling backward as smoke filled the room. My heart was pounding, my head spinning from the force of the small detonation. I was lucky it wasn’t worse—lucky I didn’t blow up the whole room.

Needless to say, when my parents found out, I got a lecture.

“What in the world were you thinking?!” Yui demanded, standing in the doorway of the study, her voice a mixture of exasperation and concern. “You’re two years old! Fūinjutsu is not something you play with, especially without supervision!”

I winced, rubbing the back of my neck sheepishly. “I... I was just trying to see if I could do it. I’ve been studying it a lot, and I thought—”

“Studying it?!” Yui interrupted. “You can’t just rush into Fūinjutsu! There’s danger in every stroke! Seals can backfire if they’re not done properly. You can’t treat it like a toy.”

Kai, standing behind her, had his arms crossed and was shaking his head. “Your mother’s right. You’ve got to take this seriously, Kikyō. If you’re serious about Fūinjutsu, you’ll need more than just the basics. And you can’t expect to understand it overnight.”

The guilt hit me like a ton of bricks.

“I’m sorry, Mom, Dad. I just—” I stopped myself, realizing I was about to make an excuse. “I’ll be more careful next time. I promise.”

It wasn’t the first time I’d pushed boundaries, and I knew it wouldn’t be the last. But the truth was, I couldn’t stop myself. Fūinjutsu wasn’t just a fascination; it was a necessity in the life I was living now. And I wouldn’t rest until I understood it completely.

“I just…I read about it…it’s amazing, please teach me. I know I’m young but...” I had liked it. Much like I had taken to programming in my old life – I had been six or five back then, when I got hooked on computers but with wouldn’t come to discover programming till twelve – sealing was fun. It was engaging.

Yui's expression softened, though she didn't let go of the frustration that still lingered in her voice. "Kikyō," she began, her tone more measured, "I know you have a passion for it. I see how eager you are, and that's a good thing. But this is dangerous. Fūinjutsu isn't like other jutsu. One small mistake and it could hurt you or someone else."

Kai stepped forward then, his face serious but not unkind. "Your mother’s right. It’s not something you can rush. Even we who’ve studied it for years have to respect the power it holds. The Uzumaki Clan’s legacy is built on our mastery of seals, but that mastery is earned with time, effort, and discipline. You can’t skip those steps, no matter how much you want to."

I swallowed hard, the weight of their words pressing on me. I understood the danger, but I also knew that Fūinjutsu was my path forward. "I’m sorry," I said again, looking down at my hands, which still felt like they were buzzing with the leftover energy from the failed seal. "I won’t make the same mistake again."

Yui sighed, shaking her head, but I could see the concern still there. "It’s not about making mistakes, Kikyō. It’s about being smart enough to know when to ask for help before you get in over your head."

"Right," Kai added, giving me a small nod. "We’ll teach you, but you need to show us that you’re ready. Patience. You have to be patient, just like any other ninja. There’s no shortcut to mastery."

I nodded, my resolve firming. They were right, of course. Fūinjutsu wasn’t just about speed or instinct—it was about understanding, precision, and respect. Still, I couldn’t deny how badly I wanted to learn.

"I’ll prove it," I said, the words sounding more confident than I felt. "I’ll work hard. I won’t rush it."

Yui’s expression softened even further, and she stepped forward to give me a reassuring hug. "That’s all we want from you, Kikyō. To be careful and thoughtful in your learning."

As she held me, I couldn’t help but feel a mix of guilt and determination. I’d pushed boundaries, yes, but I wasn’t going to give up. The future depended on it. If I was going to protect the people I cared about, I needed to master Fūinjutsu—properly, carefully, and with their guidance.

Kai’s voice broke through my thoughts as he placed a hand on my shoulder. "We’ll start your training the right way," he said. "But you’ll need to prove you can handle the basics first."

I looked up at him, feeling a surge of hope. "I will. I promise."

He gave me a small smile, his voice softening. "Good. Now get some rest. Tomorrow, we’ll begin."

That’s how another thing was again added to my training and education.

Fūinjutsu wasn’t only Kanji based and those scribbles weren’t just scribbles. The best way to describe them was short-hand. Sealing like programming needed a language module to communicate your intent, and then you needed it to be simple and to the point, sometimes that meant using Kanji, short-hand which looked like scribbles, or even geometric and drawings.

Uzumaki designs, I soon learned, lived and breathed swirls and whirls.

They were distinguishable by always having a part of Swirl or a whole whirl in it. Naruto’s nine-tails seal came to mind as my studies progressed.

And then came the math and geometry part. Seals needed to be balanced, much like shapes, think symmetry or corners. A Seal couldn’t be an empty circle, it would short-circuit. So, if you used a base circle, you had to add an array to break the chakra at different equidistant parts of it. Another aspect you didn’t mix even and odd distant seals. They would work but be highly unstable and might interfere with each other.

I could feel the potential, the door to a vast, untapped power.

Along with that breakthrough came progress in my chakra sensing and control. Slowly, steadily, I began to refine my skills, each success building on the last. As the months passed, the word "prodigy" started to follow me. At first, it was just whispers, then outright praise.

I was beginning to understand why I’d been pushed so hard—why the pressure had never let up. In this world, mastery wasn’t a choice; it was a necessity. And I was determined to reach it.

One day, Satoshi-sensei upped the ante. He handed me a small piece of paper. “This is—”

“Chakra paper!” I interrupted, my voice full of excitement. “We’re starting ninjutsu?”

Satoshi-sensei chuckled at my enthusiasm, a hint of amusement in his eyes as he pulled out his lollipop. “Yes, among other things. So, do you know how to use it?”

I nodded eagerly. “Of course!”

“Alright, then,” he said, gesturing for me to begin.

I focused and pushed chakra into the piece of paper. To my satisfaction, it soaked through instantly, a clear sign of my chakra's interaction with the paper.

Satoshi-sensei’s smile was faint but approving. “Water natured. That’s the same as mine, so it should make teaching you easier.” He paused for a moment, then added, “Water and wind are the most common in Uzumaki. So, when it’s eventually time to pick up a second one you should probably try wind”

I nodded, already absorbed in the possibilities of learning a second nature. "Got it."

Satoshi-sensei’s expression shifted slightly, his tone becoming more serious. “Now, you’ve learned chakra molding and chakra control. We’ve started you on basic physical conditioning, but it’s time to step it up. You’ve already shown with Fūinjutsu that you’re ready for more. So, we’re starting with everything. Official ninja training begins now.”

My stomach tightened with a mix of excitement and nerves. This was the real deal—the moment when things stopped being theoretical and started becoming practical.

He continued, “First, Taijutsu. We’ll begin with the katas from the Uzumaki style. Once you’ve got that down, we’ll move on to actual sparring. Of course, you’ll still be doing physical exercises to build your strength and stamina.”

I could feel the weight of the decision sinking in. This was it—no more skimming the surface. I was about to dive deep into the life of a ninja.

Satoshi-sensei looked at me, sizing me up as if weighing the next step. “Shurikenjutsu too,” he said. “We’ll start with the basics—shuriken and kunai. As for kenjutsu…” He paused, his gaze thoughtful as he considered me for a moment. “You seem more like a ninjutsu type, so we’ll hold off on that for now.”

I took a deep breath, my mind trying to catch up with the speed at which things were advancing. This was it. Real ninja training. Everything was about to get a whole lot harder, but I wasn’t going to back down. I couldn’t.

Satoshi-sensei continued, his tone steady but firm. “Genjutsu—I’ll teach you how to break it and the basic ones I know eventually. But I’m not an expert on that front, so don’t expect miracles.”

I nodded, mentally noting that I’d have to seek out more training on my own for genjutsu, but the rest sounded intense. He wasn’t holding back.

“Ninjutsu,” he continued, “we’ll start with hand seals training. Once you’ve got them down, we’ll move on to learning a water jutsu and the basic jutsus.”

I felt the weight of the responsibility start to settle in, but my determination only grew. I couldn’t let myself be anything less than fully committed to this path.

“Yui also mentioned you’re doing very well in your Fūinjutsu training,” he added. “So, it’s time you learn the clan kekkei genkai.”

My eyes widened at the mention of the Uzumaki clan’s legendary ability. “The Adamantine Sealing Chains?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper, almost in awe.

Satoshi-sensei nodded, a rare, serious look crossing his face. “Yes. You’re ready for it. This will be your next big challenge, and a significant part of what makes the Uzumaki clan so feared and respected.”

My heart raced with anticipation. The Adamantine Sealing Chains—an ability that was as powerful as it was dangerous. I had to be careful, I had to master it, and I knew it would be tough. But I was ready for it.

“Let’s get started then,” I said, my voice laced with fierce determination. There was no turning back now. This was my path, and nothing was going to stop me.

I won’t pretend everything came easily, but it wasn’t as difficult as I’d imagined either. Learning hand seals took me a day, and mastering the transitions between them took another week. The katas were tricky at first—most of them weren’t designed for toddlers—but I got them eventually, with a bit of persistence. Shurikenjutsu? Well, that was a work in progress. My aim was improving, but it still needed work.

My first water jutsu was the Water Wall. It was a defensive jutsu that created a barrier of water either in all four directions or just one, depending on how I focused. I was also able to learn the basics: Transformation, Clone, and Substitution Jutsu. Each one came with its own challenges, but nothing was impossible with enough focus.

Taijutsu, on the other hand, was a nightmare. I was small, and even though I had memorized the katas, they just didn’t suit a toddler’s body. I would have to wait until I grew before I could properly apply what I’d learned.

Genjutsu… well, I didn’t have much talent for it. Satoshi-sensei’s level of proficiency, which was close to zero, seemed to match my own. At least I could dispel Genjutsu when needed.

The Adamantine Sealing Chains, however, felt as natural as breathing once I understood the necessary concepts. My body now produced three chains, each functioning as an extra limb. I spent hours refining their control, reach, and speed. It was exhilarating, like I was mastering a part of myself that I didn’t even know I had.

At home, Yui kept pushing my education further. Fūinjutsu remained a priority, but she also added new subjects: Strategy and Tactics, Cryptography, and Stealth Training. It was during these sessions that she revealed her own expertise in Stealth. Her teachings were practical, giving me a whole new set of skills to add to my growing arsenal.

And then, my third birthday came and went, barely noticeable amid the whirlwind of training. It wasn’t a day for celebration, but rather a marker for the slow, steady improvement I saw in myself. My days were filled with challenges, my skills growing bit by bit, never too fast but never too slow either. Each day brought me closer to the ninja I needed to become.

><><><><><><>< 

Satoshi Interlude

“Another team is missing?” Satoshi’s frown deepened as he stood before his father in the head office, the tension in his voice barely masked.

Takumi nodded grimly, his usual calm demeanor hardening with frustration. “Yes. We’ve barely managed to recover from the Second War, and now this. Shinobi are disappearing without a trace, and I’m left with no answers.”

Satoshi’s jaw tightened. This wasn’t just a few missing patrols or occasional strays. This was something bigger, something deliberate.

Takumi’s gaze darkened as he leaned back in his chair, the weight of his years and responsibilities pressing down on him. “I reached out to Hiruzen, hoping for some insight. But he refuses to act. He doesn’t want to risk escalating things when we don’t even understand what’s happening.” He let out a sharp sigh. “The man’s an idealist. Always thinking of the long-term peace, but what good is peace when it costs lives?”

Satoshi stood silent for a moment, processing his father’s words. His relationship with Hiruzen was…complicated. The Hokage’s cautious nature had saved many lives, but it had also led to hesitation when boldness was needed. Satoshi understood the need for caution in times of uncertainty, but this situation felt different. Something was brewing in the shadows, something that could not be ignored.

Takumi leaned forward, eyes sharp with determination. “We can’t afford to wait for someone else to act. We need to understand what’s happening before it’s too late. And if the village leaders won’t move, then we must.”

Satoshi nodded, his usual aloofness giving way to the gravity of the situation. This wasn’t just about disappearing shinobi anymore. It was about protecting the legacy of the Uzumaki, about making sure that the village stood strong in the face of whatever threat lay ahead.

“We’ll handle it,” Satoshi said, his voice low and resolute. “I’ll start making inquiries. We can’t afford to stay idle.”

Takumi gave a brief nod of approval, a small smirk tugging at his lips. “I knew I could count on you.”

But as Satoshi turned to leave, a lingering unease settled over him. There were too many unknowns. The threads were too tangled. He would do what he could to unravel them, but even he knew that sometimes, some things could never be untangled without paying a heavy price.

 

 

 

 

Chapter 4: The First Strike

Another year had passed, and I was four now.

A lot had changed. Yui was three months pregnant, and I was expecting a new brother or sister. Kai was home a lot more lately, though he still had to work. He never told me what was going on, but I could sense the tension in the air. The shinobi in the village seemed different—more on edge. Everywhere I went, most of them were armed and ready, as if waiting for something to happen. Satoshi-sensei was no different. He’d been going on more patrols lately, which meant that most of my training consisted of him showing me what to do, staying for a couple of hours, and then leaving me to practice while he handled his duties.

I could guess though. We were a shinobi village, one of the most feared clans. There were probably signs before the attack came. So, I was on edge too. Yui had gone over evacuation guideline with me again and again during the last year. We were as ready as we could ever be.

My training had progressed quite well—if I do say so myself. My parents were incredibly proud of me, and even Satoshi-sensei, though he’d never admit it, seemed pleased. He’d usually say something like, “Quit being so smug, get back to training,” but I could tell—he was proud too.

In the last year, I had made significant strides in my ninja training. I had mastered the basics of hand seals, transitioning between them smoothly without hesitation. My water jutsu had come a long way, with the Water Wall being my first successful technique. After that, I progressed to Water Clone, and then began tackling more advanced jutsu—Water Release: Wild Water Wave and Water Release: Severing Wave, which were both C-rank and B-rank techniques, respectively.

Shurikenjutsu was still a work in progress, my aim improving slowly but surely. Taijutsu, though, was more challenging. My small frame still made it difficult to execute the katas perfectly, but I was slowly growing stronger. Genjutsu was a lost cause—I could dispel the basic genjutsu I encountered, but anything beyond that was too much for me right now.

Fūinjutsu, however, was where I felt truly at home. The Adamantine Sealing Chains had come naturally to me, and now I was refining their control, reach, and speed. I could summon three chains at will, each acting as an extra limb, and I was learning how to wield them like an extension of my own body. The sense of power and precision in Fūinjutsu was something I hadn’t experienced with any other technique.

At home, my studies had expanded as well. Yui continued my Fūinjutsu education and began incorporating strategy, tactics, and cryptography. Stealth training had become a significant part of my days too.

In Fūinjutsu, we moved into the more…experimental part. How you went about creating seals, or analyzing and identifying unknown ones. Compressing and decompressing techniques. I also learned about the different mediums used in sealing—ink, blood, and even more unconventional methods, like sewing seals into clothes or knitting seal patterns with wool. Each method presented unique challenges, but they all added layers of depth to my understanding of Fūinjutsu.

I had grown stronger, both physically and mentally, and though the road ahead was still long, I felt ready for whatever came next. But what I didn't know was that the world was about to shift beneath my feet.

It started like any other day, but there was one difference: Satoshi-sensei told me he had something special to teach me today.

“Today, you’re learning the Summoning Jutsu,” he announced.

My eyes widened, excitement bubbling up inside me. Summoning was like discovering your Patronus—something deeply personal and powerful. “But I don’t have a contract,” I said, hesitation creeping in.

“I know,” Satoshi-sensei replied, his tone calm. “I’m passing mine to you. The contract of the sparrows.”

I was going to become a Disney princess “No offense…but sensei how did someone like you get a contract like that?”

Satoshi’s eyes flickered with a brief, distant look, his usual smirk softening. He took a moment before responding, his tone quieter, more measured than usual.

“Got it from someone I once cared about,” he said, his voice low, almost reflective. “She was... special. A shinobi, just like me. We had a bond with those sparrows. She was the one who signed the contract, then she had me sign it too, but when she passed, it became mine by default.”

He paused, his gaze turning to the horizon as if he were lost in thought for a moment, before the familiar teasing smile returned.

“So, no need to worry about it, kid. You’ve got it now.”

I had never seen him this…vulnerable “I’m sorry for your loss, sensei”

Satoshi's eyes flickered for a brief moment, and the faintest hint of something unspoken passed through his gaze. He gave a small, almost imperceptible nod, as if acknowledging the words, but his expression quickly shifted back to his usual nonchalance.

"Thanks, kid," he replied, his voice back to its usual gruffness. "But it's been a while. No need to dwell on it."

He straightened up, as if brushing off the weight of the moment, and his teasing grin returned, albeit a little softer than before.

"Now, enough with the serious talk," he said, his tone lightening. "You’ve got a contract to sign, a new summoning to learn, and a whole lot of training ahead of you. Let's get to it."

Satoshi-sensei nicked his finger with his teeth, then swiftly formed the hand seals before slamming his hand to the ground. "Summoning Jutsu!"

The summoning seals spread out, and with a puff of smoke, a human-sized sparrow appeared. Its feathers were a blend of blue and black, shining in the light.

"Haruma, meet my student, Kikyō Uzumaki."

I waved, feeling a mixture of excitement and nerves. "Nice to meet you, Haruma-san."

The sparrow tilted its head and looked down at me, a bemused expression crossing its features. "She’s tiny," Haruma said, his voice full of amusement. I could see Satoshi-sensei’s smirk from where I stood, clearly enjoying this.

"They actually trusted you with a tiny chick?" Haruma continued, his tone teasing.

I knew he meant a baby bird…but it still felt offensive being called a chick.

“Well they did” Sensei told it – him? – “and I want her to sign the sparrow contract so can you get the scroll?”

“A tiny chick like her?” Haruma observed me again, his eyes narrowing as he studied me.

I held his gaze as best as I could—Haruma was huge compared to me, easily the size of Satoshi-sensei. The sparrow shifted, its talons tapping the ground before a puff of smoke erupted. From the smoke, a large scroll appeared, and Haruma effortlessly picked it up with a soft flap of his wings.

Satoshi-sensei took the scroll from him, unfurling it. As he did, I noticed the last two names at the bottom: Haruka Uzumaki and Satoshi Uzumaki.

That must be the person he mentioned I thought as I saw Haruka’s name.

“Kikyō,” Satoshi-sensei said, his tone serious. “Sign your name in the empty space and leave a hand print. All with blood.”

I nodded, my heart pounding with a mix of excitement and nervousness. Kneeling next to the scroll, I nicked my finger, the small drop of blood quickly forming at the cut. Taking a deep breath, I began writing my name in the ancient script, feeling the weight of the moment as the words formed under my shaky hand.

Once I finished, I spread the blood across my palm and pressed my hand firmly onto the scroll. The hand print was the final step, sealing my bond to the contract.

Satoshi-sensei pulled the scroll rolling it back before it disappeared in a puff of smoke. “Good luck, little Chick” Haruma told me before he also disappeared in a puff of smoke.

“Now” Satoshi-sensei started and I focused on him, he started moving his hands into different seals Boar, Dog, Bird, Monkey, Ram. “Those are the hand seals. Gather your chakra and mold it, you’ll need your blood on your hand while forming the hand seals then place your hand on the ground.”

“Got it” I start forming the hand seals and doing the steps “Summoning Jutsu”

For a moment, nothing happened. The air felt thick with anticipation. Then, with a sudden pop and a swirl of smoke, I felt the ground tremble beneath me.

The smoke cleared, and in front of me stood… a small, scrawny sparrow. It blinked up at me, looking as unimpressed as a bird could look, with a cocked head and ruffled feathers.

Satoshi-sensei’s voice broke the silence. “Not bad, kid. Not bad at all.”

I couldn't help but laugh, a mix of relief and amusement bubbling up in me. “I summoned a bird,” I said, still in disbelief. "I can't believe it worked."

The sparrow puffed its chest out as if proud of its small, unimposing self. It hopped forward and squawked, flapping its wings before giving me a sharp, disinterested look.

Satoshi-sensei chuckled, clearly entertained by my reaction. "It’s a start. Summoning’s not just about power. It’s about communication, trust, and understanding your summoned partner. You’re going to have to work with that little guy now." He pointed at the sparrow. "It’s not about grandeur, it’s about the bond."

The little sparrow hopped around, clearly comfortable despite its unimpressive appearance. It seemed almost… stubborn, in a way that reminded me of myself.

“Alright, I guess we’re a team now,” I said, eyeing the sparrow. “Let’s see what we can do together. I am Kikyō, nice to meet you.”

“The young birds don’t usually talk right away. So, it might take some time before it replies. If it does that is, not all of them talk.” Satoshi-sensei explained “Now, you need to give this little one a name that you both agree on.”

I looked down at the sparrow, its brown feathers with red markings making it stand out. I thought about the name carefully, weighing the options. “Hmm… Tsubasa?” I offered.

The sparrow pecked my finger gently, a little too hard for my liking. “Okay, okay! Not Tsubasa...” I winced, rubbing my finger. “Can’t you be gentler?” I muttered.

After a moment, I thought again. “How about Kaze? Wind? Since you’re free to fly like the wind…”

This time, the sparrow flapped its wings excitedly, as if agreeing. It was perfect. "Kaze it is," I said softly, feeling the bond solidifying in that moment.

Satoshi-sensei, who had been watching quietly, gave me a nod of approval. "A good choice. A bond starts with understanding, and it looks like you two already have a connection."

I looked down at Kaze, feeling a sense of satisfaction. It felt right, like this was the first step in building a true partnership. The sparrow chirped again, flapping its wings in approval.

After a moment, I felt a spark of curiosity. “Sensei, is it a unilateral summon contract or can you summon a flock?” I ask curious I had seen both types in the story I remember.

Satoshi-sensei’s eyes shifted toward me, his expression thoughtful. “No, you can summon different sparrows, and each of them is good at different things. Some are better with reconnaissance, others with combat, and some are even skilled in specific types of ninjutsu.”

I nodded, absorbing the new information. The idea that I could have multiple sparrows to summon—each with its own strengths—made the bond feel even more powerful. The possibilities were endless.

“I see, can I tr—”

The ground shook, and before I could finish my sentence, a deafening explosion erupted in the distance. The shockwave rattled the training ground, and I instinctively staggered back, my heart pounding in my chest. My senses flared as I scanned the area, trying to assess the threat.

I sensed the chakra surge from the cliffside. Too fast, I thought as I spotted a figure darting toward us. A shinobi, moving with deadly precision. My reflexes screamed at me to dodge, but I froze for a split second, realizing I wasn’t fast enough to get away in time.

In the blink of an eye, Satoshi-sensei was between me and the enemy. His sword was drawn, gleaming in the sunlight as it pierced through the enemy shinobi's chest. The attack was swift, efficient, and almost mechanical.

I gasped, staring at the scene, still processing the sudden violence. My mind raced, but my body was too stunned to react. Satoshi-sensei stood firm, his gaze unwavering as he held the enemy still with the blade, his presence a silent promise of protection.

The world seemed to freeze for a moment, the distant sounds of the explosion fading into a muffled background as I watched him—Satoshi-sensei.

But it didn’t last long. The tension in the air snapped as I registered more movement. The enemy wasn’t alone. There were five more, all with headbands that marked them as Iwa or Kiri nin. My pulse quickened. This is real, I thought, my stomach tightening with dread.

“Kikyō! Snap out of it!” Satoshi-sensei’s voice cut through the fog of shock. His commanding shout snapped me into action, and I felt my body respond instinctively. Three gold chains erupted from my back, shooting forward with precise aim. They lashed out at the enemy nin, and I could feel the sharp tug of connection as they latched onto one of them.

Satoshi-sensei had already thrown smoke bombs, enveloping the area in a cloud of confusion. The advantage was ours—both of us were sensors, and in this dense smoke, we could feel their movements even if we couldn’t see them. I heard grunts and screams as Satoshi-sensei moved quickly, his blade cutting through the smoke like a shadow. I didn’t need to see him; I felt his chakra shifting, his movements swift and calculated.

I focused on my chains, pulling them tighter. One of my targets—whether male or female, I couldn’t tell through the smoke—was struggling against my hold, but it was futile. With a snap of my wrist, the chain shot through their chest, and I felt their chakra disappear in an instant.

I didn’t have time to process the kill, the adrenaline rushing through my veins. I snapped my focus back to the battle, the chaotic sounds of combat filling my ears. My hands shook, but I gritted my teeth and prepared for the next move. This wasn’t just training anymore; this was survival.

Satoshi-sensei’s voice rang out again through the smoke, sharp and commanding. “Stay focused, Kikyō!”

I nodded, my resolve hardening. This was my fight too. I wasn’t just the student anymore. I didn’t want to die.

He turned “Let’s go! We need to get into position” We ran through the cliff side back to the main village area.

I swallowed “Sensei, I—”

He didn’t look back. “You’re not evacuating with the civilians or non-combat personnel.” His tone was cold, resolute. “Your parents didn’t know this. Just myself and the clan head did. You have an important role to play, Kikyō.”

I swallowed hard, struggling to keep up with his pace. “Important role? But Sensei… I’m just four! I’m not even officially a ninja!”

“You’re my student, Kikyō!” Satoshi-sensei’s voice was steady as he matched his speed to mine, refusing to slow down. “Now is the time to show everything you’ve learned. You don’t have the luxury of hesitation.”

I stayed silent, my heart pounding as we ran. The weight of his words settled in my chest, and the air seemed to grow heavier with every step. I might not be ready for this. I was just a kid. But there was no turning back.

“I’ll explain when we get to the library.” He finished before we fell quiet as we continued running.

A role I had to take. I wonder what I can do. I thought as we ran.

It looks like the squad that attacked us had been a stray. We didn’t run into anymore enemies till we got to village proper. My eyes widened. It was pandemonium. Civilians were being evacuated by some shinobi. Others engaged with the enemy. The buildings burned or crumbled from the stray jutsus or explosive tags being thrown around.

How…How had they managed to get past our defenses and into the village. Numbers or not this shouldn’t have happened.

“Sensei…” I started hesitantly

Satoshi nodded. “Let’s focus for now on our goal.” I nodded and we ran again on the rooftops this time.

I was scared, my heart beating loud in my ear. Around us was, the sounds of weapons clashing. The screams and cries of battles, and then…droplets started falling. The sky rumbled with thunder and lightning as it also started to rain.

They were going to die most of them. The few that will survive will scatter all over. The weight of the future I knew caused a lump in my throat. It made me want to curl up and cry. To Imagine it was all a bad dream. Mom…Mom she’s pregnant…she can’t fight!

“Sensei! My Mom I hav–”

He interrupted me firm “Kikyō! You’re a shinobi. In training or not, you have a duty. Yui is a kunoichi, she’ll manage to get herself to safety and Kai will help her”  

 

I swallowed any other words. I didn’t know what to say. Had this been the old life me…honestly, I would probably listen anyway I was always afraid to go against authority.

I hated it though. But I understood…the greater good concept even if I didn’t like it. So, I tried to check on them with chakra sensing.

It was a horrible decision. It was the first time I had sensed in an active battlefield and if I though everything was bright before now it was like neon lights.

I faltered a step before my training kicked in and I started filtering and processing the information. Locating my mom and dad was easy their chakra familiar to me. Mom was moving to the evacuation shelters, dad was fighting with some other shinobi. They were alive.

We reached the village center the defense line hadn’t fallen so it was quieter here. We kept running forward to the library.

When we reached it, the scene was a blur of frantic activity. Scrolls were being sealed, books moved quickly into the center of a large, complex sealing array. It felt like the world was racing against time. People were moving with a purpose.

Satoshi-sensei walked forward and I followed him “Takashi” He called out to a man in his mid-thirties “How is the progress?”

“We’re almost done” He said grimly before looking at me “She’s the girl?” Satoshi-sensei nods

“Finish up and I’ll explain to her” Satoshi told him before leading me closer to the central seal.

I realized to an extent what was going on. I didn’t know what my role was in it yet but I understood. They were getting the clan knowledge. Gathering it to be safe, in worst case of Uzushio falling. “Sensei…”

“You probably realized. Kikyō, we have suspected the attack was coming for months now. The situation has been escalating. While a word would have been sent for reinforcement, we need to act on the premise they won’t get here in time” He crouched placing hands on my shoulders and looking me into my eyes. “Kikyō, what is the evacuation drill? The highest level”

"Shelters for those who can't travel," I muttered to myself, envisioning the designated safe zones in my mind. I could almost see the maps we had studied, the routes we had planned. "Those who can, off the Island..." My thoughts echoed with the familiar phrases, drilled into me through repetition.

But it was the final step that made my heart skip a beat. "Combatants, hold your ground..." I felt a surge of determination, remembering the weight of responsibility that came with being a shinobi. And then, the most crucial part: "Clan Knowledge... secure it, no matter what." The words resonated deeply, a reminder of the trust placed in me.

He nodded, a warm smile on his face. “Good girl. You’re a smart girl, Kikyō. I am glad to be your teacher.” His expression turned solemn, and he paused, as if collecting his thoughts. “But you being my student is why you’ll have to carry this burden. Seeing as I already lost the woman to be my wife and with no prospect of children, you as my student would have been the next in line for the village leadership after me.”

I felt my eyes widen in shock, my mind reeling from the weight of his words.

He continued, his voice gentle but resolute. “My father is on the front lines. My job will be ensuring everything here is secured before joining him. Your role Kikyō will to act as the vessel for all our knowledge. That seal…” I looked at the sealing array as he did. “…after everything is stored into it will be transferred into a human carrier. That is you”

“Me? Sensei…I am just four…I can’t protect it…I wouldn’t kn–” I stuttered incoherently the clan, the village it will all fall. That was how the story I knew went. There had been no mention of clan knowledge surviving.

“You’ll survive. If the clan survives you might have to carry the burden of helping rebuild it. If not, our knowledge will be passed by you to who you think is worthy of it.” He pats my head. “Kikyō, you’re four but you’re smart beyond your years. You’re not only smart. You’re wise…like only an adult can be” I freeze “Yes, we realized. While uncommon to possess memories of previous lives, our clan lives for long. Long enough to have seen it and record cases of it. But no one will ask what you remember your past is your own. But your future and present are as Kikyō Uzumaki.”

It explained a lot of things. Why my parents had accepted the sudden change. Getting the clan heir as a teacher at two. The push to teach a child so much. The clan would fall. And he was right our knowledge in the wrong hand would wreak havoc.

I had been training to be a shinobi and that wasn’t just fancy jutsu or throwing fists. It was to hold steady and bravely.

I nod “Sensei, what do I need to do?”

He surveyed the library. I did too. Once a majestic place filled with books and scrolls at every corner and shelf, was becoming barren. Most already transferred the few remaining shelves too few.

If I had to compare, it would be to the library of Alexandria. Now it was the fall of it.

He stood back up “I will do the initial transfer of the seal to you. It will hurt, but essentially it will make your body into a walking storage seal. One that only you can access.” He led us over to the sealing array where they were sealing away the few stuff that remained.

I studied the seal, looking it over. It was a complicated storage array. Eight cornered. A connection to life force still open, probably will close when transferred to me. It meant I really was the only one that could access it once the connection closed. It also meant should I die, it will get destroyed along with anything in it.

Not a blood seal, but life force, which meant if someone tried to force me with genjutsu or even another seal it wouldn’t work because it would be influence my chakra which is connected to my life force.

I looked up, Satoshi-sensei was waiting for me to finish analyzing it. “I got it...” He nodded

While we waited for everyone else to finish storing. I closed my eyes focusing on my chakra sensing. Thankfully my range also included where I knew the evacuation shelters were. I sensed my mother’s chakra there. My father probably fighting somewhere but I couldn’t find him.

My heart raced fearing the worst.

While only ten minutes had passes it had felt like hours. The library was empty every book, every scroll, every piece of paper gone into the seal.

Satoshi-sensei turned to the people there. “Head to where you’re supposed to be now” They nodded. I could see the grim resolution on their faces. Some of them will join the fight, others will evacuate from the island, the rest to the shelters.

As the library cleared, it was now only myself and Satoshi-sensei. I already knew the steps that would be needed. I moved to the seal center, removing my top before sitting cross legged.

He followed biting his finger for blood and started drawing the symbols on me connecting them to the seal on the ground. Once done, he placed his palm on my back. “Ready?”

I nodded swallowing my throat feeling dry. Then came the pain. I screamed as the chakra intertwined with my own network, the seal starting to transfer to my body. Becoming part of me.

It hurt…My body burned…my blood burned, it was like a pressure squeezing me every inch of me from inside out. Then it was gone.

I was still trying to catch my breath like I had run a marathon, I could feel Satoshi-sensei as he rubbed my back before pulling a water bottle and helping me drink. “It will pass eventually” He grabbed my kimono top and helped me put it on, before picking me up.

“S-sensei?” I croaked wondering where we were going

“I’ll take you to a hiding spot, it’s not the shelters. Kikyō, you’re not to leave that spot. Senses open. Don’t come out till all the enemies are gone. Do you understand?” I nodded weakly. “Good.”

I blacked out after that. I don’t know for how long by the time I woke up, sensei was gone. I was in a dark room, on a bedroll, next to me a small candle. I was alone.

The room was enough to house one adult, no windows, hard stone everywhere. I found an air seal on one wall though probably the reason I could breathe right now. I found some rations too, a water storage seal. It was definitely a hideout. A place I would be staying for Kami knows how long.

I sat back on the bed roll, closed my eyes and spread my chakra sensing trying to find what was going on. The fighting was still going on one side.

I focused on the shelters. The seconds ticked by like hours, and I held my breath, waiting for any sign of life.

And then, like a punch to the gut, I felt it: nothing.

My heart almost stopped. The shelters…I tried sensing there. They were…gone…not a soul there.

A scream built in my throat but all I got out was a whisper “Mom…” I croaked as tears fell. I hugged my knees to muffle my sobs. “No…No…I am sorry…I am sorry I couldn’t…” I couldn’t change anything. I failed. I failed.

I cried and cried. My tears and sobs muffled in my knees. I could sense the chakras disappearing outside. Ally and foe.

Then it was just me…the only soul around. No Dad, No Mom and No Sensei.

 

 

Chapter 5: The Dust Settles

Minato stopped with the other that were sent. Uzushiogakure once a beacon was no more then collapsing buildings now. A few burned buildings sizzling with the downpour.

“This is…” His teammate Dekai swallowed as they all stared at the remnants of the once great village.

Shinji prayed quietly being the religious out of the three of them.

Minato turned to his sensei. Who was talking with Tsunade and Orochimaru. “Jiraiya-sensei…what now?”

Jiraiya was grim, they had barely gotten out of the second shinobi war just for this to happen, a third shinobi war. Tsunade would have to be the one to inform her dying grandmother that her home was completely gone now.

It had taken them Full three days to get here after the help request had reached them. So, it would be almost four days since this tragedy had happened now.

“We search for survivors if there’s any…and we burn the corpses.” Jiraiya told his three Chunin “Minato, can you try sensing for any survivors?”

Minato nodded as he stared grimly at the scene. At fourteen the young chunin only had a limited distance in his sensing. He went section by section as he checked for any alive. Before they started gathering the bodies and lining them up. Orochimaru had stood nearby with Jiraiya and Tsunade in case any hidden enemies were still around. But so far it seemed the Uzumaki had ensured the enemy got taken down with them.

He wondered how Kushina would react to this. Her home gone like this. No survivors on the island.

It wasn’t until the fourteenth section that he sensed something “Sensei, there’s a chakra signature…it’s small though”

This caught everyone’s attention as they got alert. It could very well be an injured enemy as much as a surviving Uzumaki.

Tsunade was the one that stepped forward “Take us to them now” It was one of her cousins on her grandmother’s side she’ll make sure they lived. If it was one of the enemies, then it was someone she can sink her punches into.

Minato led them into what seemed to have once been one of the larger buildings on the island. A library maybe? There were shelves but it was almost like someone had thrown a ball of explosive tags here, so it was hard to tell exactly.

“Sensei, there’s no way to it” Minato said as he looked around, the chakra signature was underground, so probably a bunker of sorts or a hidden room. “It’s underground though, about 20 meters under.”

“A hidden bunker. If the enemy didn’t manage to get to it then it’s probably fortified with seals everywhere” Tsunade remarked

“Allow me then” Orochimaru said as he formed hand seals for an earth jutsu and slammed his hand on the ground. Staircase started forming in the ground leading to a solid rock that had a glowing seal on it.

“Minato let’s check this seal” Jiraiya told him and Minato followed down the stairs

Jiraiya approached the seal studying it and so did Minato. It was a locking emergency seal, with two….no three layers of protection. Logically the seal would be only unlockable from inside after activation. “Oi, Tsunade!” Jiraiya called “We might need some of your blood.” Minato noticed the blood emergency mechanism in the seal then. He’d need be quicker than this.

Tsunade joined them down there, Minato left the two Sanin and joined his teammates. Orochimaru was keeping now lookout for any surprises.

Tsunade bit her finger, both she and Jiraiya were ready for anything to happen when the seal came down. She swiped her bloodied finger on the seal and it started reacting as it rotated and unraveled. When it finally released, it was good that they were on their guard as the wall came down after the seal, Gold chains shoot at them, three different ones. They jump away avoiding the said chains and everyone goes on alert at the attack coming from the darkness inside.

Minato’s eyes widen when he sees the person the chains were attached to. A little girl, no older then four or five, with red hair as vibrant as Kushina’s. The girl had come out from the room and then climbed up the side walls of the staircase Orochimaru had made, then she was running from them.

“Wait!” Minato called as he chased her, he was the fastest here after all. He threw the kunai with his seal on it ahead of her before teleporting to it. The girl froze and her eyes darted to another side to find an escape, the others were behind her now and surrounded her too. Her chains were at the ready for an attack though.

The girl threw a smoke bomb. If he hadn’t been a sensor he’d have completely missed her as she went past him. He tried to take her arm, but had to jump back to dodge her chains again “Wait, we’re here to help!” Tsunade called from the smoke. “We’re from Konoha”

This seemed to stop the girl at a far wall from him, still ready to attack though. Minato could understand this; any shinobi would have reacted the same way with caution and the readiness to fight at the drop of a hair but it was jarring seeing someone so young act like this.

“We’re from Konoha” Tsunade repeated as she approached slowly. Theoretically, a little girl was facing three legendary shinobi and three chunin, if they hadn’t been trying help her, she would have long been dead.

The girl was looking them over from their headbands to their gear. Her eyes seemed to focus on him and widen slightly before taking in the three sanin and doing the same.

“What…who are you?” She asked in a hoarse voice that faltered slightly.

Tsunade stopped ahead of Minato but not approaching the girl yet. “I’m Tsunade. We came here after we received the signal from Uzu. Can yo–”

 “You’re late! Everyone…Everyone is already dead” The girl whimpered. Minato swallowed his throat dry as he looked away.

Everyone was uncomfortable – maybe not Orochimaru – but they all realized the weight of what happened here. The girl withdrew her chains as she looked at them, before dropping to her knees. Tsunade was by her side instantly with her palms glowing green as she checked the girl. “What’s your name?” Tsunade asked her

“Kikyō”

><><><><><><>< 

I don’t know how long I was in that room. I had stopped sensing any enemies around but I couldn’t bring myself to move to get out. I did eat when it got too much. I drank some water every now and then.

It was quiet, alone, dark.

Then one…three…six chakra signs lit up in my range and I felt as my throat closed and held my breath. I hoped they didn’t find me. Prayed they didn’t. but they got closer and closer then they were right outside the room. I would have to make a break for it.

If I was in a better mind set I probably would have realized I needed to pack some of the rations or water with me, but I wasn’t. I just got ready to make an opening to run. It didn’t take them long to unravel the seal on the room. And I was ready. I didn’t look letting my chakra sensing take over, it was better then my eyes in every way.

My chains shot from my back at them forwards forcing them to break and I jumped out not wasting time. Then one of them was in front of me – Yellow chakra, bright and calm as warm summer day – He was fast, they were fast in an instant I was surrounded. I was lucky my pouch was on me from the training before–…before the attack. I pulled the smoke bomb and was going to run. When a hand shot for me, my chains reacted and I could almost hear my heart thumbing in my chest.

I was almost out – the library once majestic was no more then ruins now, it was raining I could feel the rain on me – I reached a near wall was hole higher.

“Wait, we’re here to help!” A woman voice called and I wasn’t going to listen but “We’re from Konoha” I stopped on the wall, the chakra at my feet holding me to it.

I looked at them, the only woman in the group. Her chakra green, felt warm, and almost like antiseptic. “We’re from Konoha” She repeated as she walked past the guy with the yellow chakra.

I dampened my chakra sensing and looked at them. The woman was a blonde, her hair in low twin tails, brown eyes. It was the teen behind her that caught my eyes. Blue eyes, blonde hair. In my old world, a normal thing. In this one…Minato Namikaze, future fourth Hokage. I didn’t realize who the woman was till I saw the rest of the group too, a pale man – pale like he had never seen the sun – with black hair and pupils like that of a snake and purple…eyeshadow? The other man with long spiky white hair. The Sanin…that’s Tsunade, Orochimaru and Jiraiya. There were two more, I didn’t recognize from the story I once knew.

One of them a dark-skinned teen with black eyes, and light blonde hair, the other a lighter skinned teen with bluish black hair pinned to the top of his head.

What was clear was the leaf symbol on their forehead.

I couldn’t be sure though. My mind could be seeing things. “What…” I started but my voice faltered “…who are you?” I asked, my voice hoarse from being unused for, hours? Days?

“I’m Tsunade.” She started bringing my focus back to her and confirming my suspicions “We came here after we received the signal from Uzu. Can yo–”

 “You’re late! Everyone…Everyone is already dead” I whimpered. Everyone was gone. Everyone was dead. My family…my sensei…my village…

I withdrew my chains as the adrenaline faded and the ache in my body settled. Thankfully I wasn’t far from the ground when I fell to my knees from the wall. Tsunade was next to me, her palm glowing green as she checked me. I let her do it. Too tired…too exhausted to protest. “What’s your name?” She asked gently

“Kikyō”

I could see who I thought were Jiraiya and Orochimaru whispering about something. The three teen boys kept looking at me though. While Tsunade checked me.

“I’m not injured…” I told Tsunade who kept going anyway “I’m probably a little malnourished and dehydrated”

“You’re not wrong...how long have you been down there?” She asked, I could see the question everyone wanted to ask …why was I down there.

I tried not to fidget, I really did. But being the center of attention of everyone here was nerve racking. “Since the attack…I am not sure how much time since”

How much time has passed? How many had survived scattered across all the land? What would happen now?

I could feel my throat close up again as I pushed down my tears. Not here…Not now…

Tsunade stopped healing me “You’re pretty much right, just rest, food and water. Your chakra network is disturbed though” She stated like she expected me to provide a reason. I didn’t. This was my burden, my clan burden. I wouldn’t tell everyone what was now sealed in me.

“You will have to explain some things” It was Orochimaru who said it approaching me with narrowed eyes, Jiraiya in the back seeming exasperated. “Being sealed in an underground bunker, that’s not the shelters.”

What were my chances of lying to a Sanin successfully? I wondered as I swallowed “My Sensei put me there…” Not a lie, was omission considered lying? “We were training…when the attack started…he took me with him to where he was supposed to be…stuff…happened and I lost consciousness. When I woke up I was down there. I stayed not knowing…if it was safe” Again not a complete lie, even with my sensing there was no guarantee it was safe “I reacted when I saw the seal unraveling”

I was fidgeting, and I was getting cold and wet from the non-stop rain. Orochimaru’s look was something else, it felt like a snake will swallow me whole as he looked at me unblinking.

Jiraiya walked forward putting a hand on Orochimaru’s shoulder “That’s enough, Orochimaru” He said his voice firm.

 I froze. The tension between the two was almost in the air itself. I instinctively closed my eyes as the pressure got too much. Like the air itself froze and I would die

“Enough you two!” Tsunade yelled at them and the pressure lessened, I could breathe again.

I wasn’t the only one, it seemed the person I thought to be Minato and the two with him had about the same issues. The three Sannins weren’t to be messed with.

“Go finish up this area! You three too” She barked all of them and none if them seemed to want to defy her. The three teens, including Minato, moved immediately to comply, while Jiraiya followed. Orochimaru and Tsunade exchanged a brief but pointed stare before Orochimaru reluctantly followed Jiraiya.

I focused more on what they were supposed to be doing. She had said finish the area. Unless they were looting, it only meant...

“What are you doing with the bodies?” I whispered and swallowed

Tsunade pursed her lips, her eyes flickering with a mix of concern and hesitation. "We’re burning them. It’s the only way to handle so many and protect the clan’s secrets."

I nodded, knowing deep down she was right, even if I didn’t want to accept it. The idea of burning their bodies, the very people I had known, made my heart ache. I would never be able to visit graves, never have the chance to mourn in the way I imagined. But what about me? What now? What was left?

“What are you doing with me now?” I whispered, my voice barely audible.

Tsunade hesitated for a moment, her gaze softening.  “You’re coming to Konoha with us. Grandma Mito…and also that kid, Kushina. As of now, they’re…” She trailed off at the end, probably remembering she’s talking to a child.

“…The ones who are left” I finished for her.

I was glad for the rain falling; it hid the tears threatening to fall. My home, My family, My teacher. All gone…and I could have stopped it.

The guilt was like a boulder.

I should have told someone…what I knew…I should have…

I choked back a sob. I should have…

><><><><><><>< 

A little while later, they had setup camp for the night in one of the standing houses with a roof still.

The house was far from pristine. Still damaged, a few splashes of blood which indicated a struggle had taken place here. The bodies were probably removed by them before they decided on it being the camp for the night.

It was still raining outside as we settled in.

It felt weird to be in someone’s house like this. Someone who was probably dead or if by luck one of those who escaped. Probably not…not with the blood.

I sat next to a window with a blanket Tsunade had given me wrapped around me.

Orochimaru was away in a corner away from most of the group, Tsunade and Jiraiya whispering to the other side. Minato stood with his teammates. As they setup traps in case.

“Hi” I jumped my thoughts getting interrupted as I turned to find Minato there who now looked apologetic “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“It’s okay” I whispered “did you need something?”

Minato looked nervous…Not look, he actually kept a small smile on but I sensed in his chakra he was nervous.

“We just wanted to introduce ourselves” He started as pointed at his teammates who sat a little away. “I’m Minato Namikaze, That’s Dekai and the one with the hair knot is Shinji Anashi”

I nod “Kikyō…Uzumaki…” I introduced myself bowing my head. This Minato was young, far from the fourth Hokage I knew of from the story.

“Tsunade-sama said you needed to eat. How about you come sit with us and eat?” He offered

I shook my head “I’m not really hungry” I turned to stare out of the window again. I thought this would be the end of it but a few minutes later, he came back with a bowl with some broth.

He held it for me “You really should eat, even if you’re not hungry.”

I sighed, I knew he was right. I was an adult woman in mind if not in body and age but I didn’t want to eat. I didn’t feel like it. I didn’t feel like doing anything at all.

A spoon with broth on it was being held to me.

I frowned and narrowed my eyes at him. “You’re not feeding me” I held back on adding I’m not a child, since technically I was four. He was amused, even if he tried to pass it off as friendly.

“You need to eat and since you refuse to eat on your own…” He held the spoon again

I was getting ticked. “I can handle myself” I replied indignant

His smile faltered slightly but he held my gaze holding the spoon. “You need to eat.”

I sighed in frustration and glanced away. They made him the babysitter for me then. “I’m not hungry.”

“Kikyō…I know yo–“

I interrupted him “Don’t…Don’t say you know…how I feel…I lost…my family…my home…everything I knew…” And I could have tried to stop it, to warn them. “I don’t want to talk anymore”

I pulled the blanked over my head as I leaned against the window, the rain platter still going on outside. I didn’t want to eat. To drink. To do anything.

He got up, I glanced at where he had been and he had left the food bowl for me.

I had dealt with depression in my old life too. I knew the signs…I knew them…It didn’t make it easier to deal with them here though. The emptiness…the lack of energy…the dark thoughts…

I hugged my knees burying my head on them. Breathe in…1…2…3…remember them…but…they’d scold me for being like this.

Mom would give me a lecture for not eating, Dad would laugh and encourage me to try some. He’d be glared at by Mom for being too lenient. Sensei would dumb me in a food stand and make me eat no matter how tired I was. Rest was as important.

Their images, our days together flashed in my mind. I didn’t get enough time with them. It’s not fair…It’s not fair…

I felt the tears stream down as I grabbed the bowl and ate slowly. I wanted Mom’s cooking. Dad’s laughs. Sensei’s humor. I wanted my family and home back.

“It’s not fair” I kept eating between the tears

><><><><><>< 

I didn’t talk much the next few days. I cried sometimes…out of the blue. Minato was the only one of the teens that tried to strike up conversation. The other two just usually awkwardly said good morning or good night.

Tsunade checked on me every day, making sure I ate enough and drank enough…or the bare minimum at least.

Jiraiya and Orochimaru it seemed had kept a distance from me on Tsunade’s orders. Which I was thankful for. I couldn’t deal with Orochimaru’s questioning again or any goofy behavior from Jiraiya.

I didn’t leave the house or what’s now a makeshift camp. They went and came back as they probably dealt with the bodies in the village.

I knew though there was something I needed to do before it was time to head out to Konoha.

I approached the group one morning before they headed out “I…” I started but froze everyone glanced to me. It was the first time I had initiated a conversation “I…Can…I check on my home? To get…some stuff from there…”

“I don’t see why not” Jiraiya was the one to cut the tension. “Minato will go with you then.”

I looked at the blonde who smiled at me and I nodded neutrally. I put away the blanket I had been hiding under for the last few days before walking to Minato.

“Okay, Dekai, Shinji time to get to work you too” Jiraiya told them as he guided them outside, Orochimaru was already ahead. Tsunade gave us one last look before following.

“Ready to go?” Minato asked me and I nodded before I started leading the way.

The once busy and pristine streets, were empty and destroyed. Buildings some in ruin some had remnants of earth jutsu or traces of flames from a fire jutsu probably. The rain over the last few days had washed the blood away it seems at least. It was still cloudy overhead.

I walked the familiar way home. Minato was quiet beside me as we walked.

We reached my home…my house…or what remained of it. “Is this your home?” Minato asked

I nodded. The house was still standing, but the roof was gone and one wall had tumbled down bringing part of the second floor with it down.

I choked down the tears again, but I felt a hand on my head and looked up. Minato was petting me. I wiped away the stray tears. “Thanks…Minato-san”

“Drop the Honorific, Kikyō-chan” He smiled at me again, but the -chan part made me scrunch my nose as he laughed at me. “How old are you, Kikyō-chan?”

I huffed “Just Kikyō! And I’m four” I know he was trying to help distract me, I couldn’t bring myself to walk into the house yet.

“Okay, just Kikyō” He chuckled again grinning. I rolled my eyes, but a small smile formed. Probably the first one since everything happened.

It dropped quickly though as I turned to the house and took a breath. Pushing down the panic, the guilt and the need to cry again as I walked inside.

The inside wasn’t any better then the outside. Any and all shelves had fallen over. Some of the stuff was destroyed, either wet – Could have been the rain or a water jutsu – or burned – Fire Jutsu more than likely –.

My shoulders slumped, I stared almost seeing the ghost of what had once been. My parents and I sitting as we talked or read or studied in the living room. The meals at the table. My heart breaking as the memories played again.

I was pulled tight into someone. I realized I was crying again and Minato had pulled me into a hug as I cried loudly, not just quiet sobs.

I was once an adult, I was once with another family I had mourned losing too. But then I had settled into Kikyō. I had loved my new family. Only to lose them again. To lose everything again. To lose the life I know again.

I cried. I cried letting it out. My pain…my loss…everything…

My sobs quieted down eventually as I started catching my breaths letting my pain settles. I pulled away from him still sniffling. He was still patting my back as I started to calm down.

“Thanks, Minato-san” I wiped my tears in my sleeve “And sorry I cried on you”

“It’s not a big deal, Kikyō-chan. And I told you, just Minato”

I looked at him and smiled a small smile, I am a child…technically I can do this.

“Minato-nii then” He looked surprised as I called him that before grinning

He pet my head “Okay then.”

I took a breath then stealing myself as I turned to my house. I got upstairs – We had to jump over the debris the stairs were gone – and headed to my room first.

It was partially destroyed and part of the section with the giant hole in the roof. I pulled a storage scroll from my pouch and started storing into it what I could salvage.

Some clothes. A stuffed bunny. Some photos and books. I moved to my parents’ room, and swallowed the pain. Minato helped along as he got another storage scroll out, I brought the stuff and he stored some while I stored the rest.

Going through the rest of the house – the parts that weren’t completely destroyed – was pretty much the same. I got albums, pictures, scrolls. Reminders. Things to remember the life I once had here. 

I wasn’t counting the sealed stuff in my body. That would have to wait.

“I think we can head back” It had taken us till the afternoon to get everything. I ended up with about 5 storage scrolls worth of items. I would have to go through organizing them when I finally…I guess settled somewhere.

Minato nodded “Okay let’s go then. You had a long morning with this”

I nodded as we started walking back to camp.

That night Jiraiya and Tsunade said they were done with everything. That Uzushio was now with no more bodies around. That it was time to head to Konoha in the morning.

The next morning, I said goodbye to the home I have known for my new life wondering what will the future bring.

 

Chapter 6: A New Beginning

Notes:

sorry chapter was late, Work and life got me very busy lately.

The road to Konoha was long—like really long. Shinobi training or not, I was four. If they kept up with my pace, it would take us longer than they wanted. I could understand that I was grieving already.

The Uzumaki in Konoha – few as they were – still needed to know. Konoha’s leadership needed to know.

The point is. I was being carried against my wishes.

By Jiraiya….at least it’s not Orochimaru, right?

We have been running for almost three days now. It wasn't nonstop, but we rested every night for about four hours before waking up and continuing. It wasn’t easy, and more so with Jiraiya being…himself. He wasn't pervy to a four-year-old…but was still…too happy.

“–You say that now, but–” He was still talking as we ran through the trees with him giving me a piggyback ride.

“No,” I refused again. He had been trying to convince me to tell him about my storage seals—the ones I used to store the stuff at my house while they were Uzumaki standard; they were different from the Konoha ones. He wanted me to go through them with him, or at least give him one to study.

He deflated at my rejection. “Come on, Kid. I will get you some candy when we get to the village.”

“No”

His students were amused at his antics. Tsunade was exasperated on her face. And Orochimaru looked like he wanted to be anywhere but with us.

Which was how I felt too. After the initial grief passed – I was still grieving, but can compartmentalize it now – I began to focus on another thing. The group I was with now for one. Two people will die. Two whom I didn’t know their fate. One who will go rogue. And one who will grieve them and take the Hokage position.

I just failed to keep the future from playing out with my clan. And I was in a group of people I knew about their future. And I wanted it to end. I didn’t want to see their dead bodies. Once a story now felt too real. It scared me.

I pushed the feeling down though. I had more things to worry about right now.

For instance, I was heading into the living, breathing plot with no plot armor. I knew this was real life, not the story I had once read growing up. But it was still a possible future filled with too many deaths—too many chances of dying. And in my current life, I was already tired of death.

I continued to refuse Jiraiya as we ran through the trees.

It was weird seeing all the trees as we ran. I was used to the ocean, the beaches, the rain, the humidity. Not the warm weather, trees, or forests.

“we’re almost there, kid,” Jiraiya told me and I nodded. “Konoha should come into sights soon”

The Gates were massive. I could vaguely remember that from the story. But seeing was something else, I could barely see the top – I had to strain my neck to look –. I stared in wonder.

No wonder it took a giant summon to bring them down.

Uzushiogakure didn’t have walls—an oversight now—but we had been so confident in the cliffs, the natural whirlpools, and our seals until they weren’t enough.

I pushed it down. Compartmentalize, I need to focus on the now.

Back on topics it was massive. We landed at the gates, Jiraiya with me on his back. Tsunade and Orochimaru beside him. Minato, Dekai, and Shinji after them. I jumped down from Jiraiya’s back.

Tsunade had walked to the gate booth to talk with them – sign in maybe? – while the rest waited. I used the chance to look around from the gates. The village was so different from Uzu. Instead of stone roads, it had dirt ones. The architecture was so different too – I didn’t know the various styles, but it looked different with how the houses were, the roofs, and such – and what stood out in the distance was the massive headstones carved into the mountainside. Only three of them now – The future fourth was chatting with his friends behind me; assuming nothing changes in the future –.

The streets had people walking around not too many near the gates, but you could see in the roads themselves, and as I closed my eyes I could sense the chakras walking around. It was a sight I hadn’t seen since before the attack, people walking around peacefully, some families or couples together, enjoying the quiet day. It was weird how something as simple as that made me want to cry again.

Thankfully, Tsunade walked back to us. “We should be good to go for now.”

Jiraiya turned to his students “Okay, you three are free to go while we go over to make our report.”

“Kikyō,” I looked as Tsunade said my name. She smiled gently at me. “I’ll take you to the Senju residence for now. Currently, I live there with Granny Mito and Kushina.” I nodded, adjusting my pouch with the storage scrolls in it out of nervousness.

After that, everyone split up, Minato waved and gave me an encouraging smile, and the other two waved before I followed Tsunade through the village.

The village I noticed was lively, with people of all ages walking down the streets, and some shinobi jumping on the rooftops. Some stalls are open selling food. We broke through what seemed to be the market area as we continued walking through the street. It was filled with many stalls and stores, people buying and haggling.

Some waved and smiled at Tsunade, and some called to her with a greeting. She replied politely and waved at them.

“You’re popular,” I note to her and she sighs

“It’s just a reputation and Lineage thing” She mutters

“I mean even in Uzushio we heard of the legendary Sanin you know,” I told her “Especially you, I mean it’s legendary how you modernized Konoha’s Medical system both in the village and on the battlefield”

It was true. My mom had taught me known history, which included some of Konoha's history, including the last war. The legendary Sanin were…well... legendary. While all three were known for combat power, Tsunade was known for more. No one had thought of the medical field. Heck, no one had thought of putting medics on teams. Konoha managed the last war because of Tsunade’s efforts.

So, she wasn’t just Tsunade-hime, the Senju princess. She was a warrior and a healer. She had gone past what her bloodline gave her.

“You know a lot for a four-year-old,” She said and I could hear the amusement in her voice – or was she disguising wariness? I didn’t know – “So they used to talk about us even there?”

I nodded as we continued walking. We were out of the market area now. “I mean, mo–mom,” my voice hitched. “She used to teach me history and all kinds of things.” I realized now that it wasn’t just shinobi training. They were probably preparing me for the position of clan heir eventually after Sensei.

The village was something; it would take time to get used to it, especially with all I knew.

“Um…How is Kushina-san And Mito-sama like?” I ask as I play with the hem of my top. I wondered how they’d react to me.

Tsunade looked ahead. “Kushina is loud and brash, but she has a good heart. Granny Mito…she’s a kind person, a wise one too.” She glanced at me, “They’ll like you.”

I swallowed nervously. Would they? I didn’t want to be a burden...I could probably live alone, but I would need money until I could become a shinobi or find work. Would I be even allowed to become a shinobi? I mean I Was technically being trained for another village. A village that’s gone now.

We reached a quieter part of the village. The houses here were more…refined. They were probably clan houses or compounds. We eventually reached a house that looked majestic. It was large, if only one floor, with a front garden that had a few trees.

Tsunade led us inside through the front door. I could already sense a few chakras around the place – not in plain sight – and three chakras inside.

Anbu, maybe? I shouldn’t focus too much unless I want to announce to everyone that I can sense Anbu…

I also didn’t want to sense Kurama. I wasn’t about to test just how much tolerance I have for tailed beasts. I mean peoples’ chakra used to give me a headache. A tailed beast might just make me lose my mind.

We took our shoes off at the front door. There were no slippers my size though.

“um–”

Tsunade scratched her cheek before sighing “We don’t usually get small guests anymore.” She was pretty amused as she looked around, and I wanted to facepalm. I just hated being this small, even if I was just four. “We can probably get Kushina’s old ones out of storage”

“I can walk in a big one” I assured Tsunade crossing my arms. I could use chakra to stick it to my feet.

“You’ll probably fall on your face.” She put the smallest pair available – Still four or five sizes too big – in front of me. I put it on and used chakra to stick it to my feet as I tried walking in it and it seemed to be holding.

“Well, you can already manipulate chakra to your feet. And your chakra control isn’t bad either. How old did you say you are?”

I fidget, I haven’t known other kids my age, so I wasn’t sure how much I could show while still falling within the normal for my age.

“Four…I should be five next August.”

She hummed before standing up. “Come on this way.” She started leading the way through the halls. It was the type of house that showed its heritage. It had wooden floors, and some simple décor, and most doors were shoji type. We eventually reached a room, the door opened as soon as we reached it.

“Tsunade-sama,” the woman greeted, bowing her head slightly. Mito-sama and Kushina are waiting inside.” The woman glanced at me; her face didn’t drop the smile. But in her chakra, I could feel her wondering. “I was about to go prepare a fresh pot of tea.”

I wonder how they realized we were here? We hadn’t made any sounds with our steps as we walked. Wait…I think it was mentioned Mito had been a sensor, right?

“Thank you, Amariko” Tsunade told her.

Amariko moved out of the way, for us to enter while she walked down the hall.

I followed Tsunade inside.

The first thing I noticed was the chakra in the room, the tense air that surrounded it, and the chakra of the room’s two occupants. Under it though. One was loud, bright, and so alive it was almost overwhelming. My eyes darted to the source: a girl with flaming red hair much like my own, and violet eyes, lighter than my purple ones. Her forehead protector was tied on her forehead, and she was wearing a simple practical kimono top and shorts under it and thigh highs. Kushina Uzumaki I recognized her.

She was on her feet immediately “What happened in Uzu? How is everyone?!” She was shouting

“Kushina,” the other woman in the room called. “Calm down, give Tsunade a chance to answer.” She was an old lady—I knew she was probably older than she looked—with maroon hair tied up into two buns with some left loose. She was wearing a simple, loose-fitting kimono.

 

It seems she knew what Tsunade was going to say, almost like she was resigned to it.

“I am sorry…Uzushiogakure is no more.”

“No…” Kushina fell to her knees shocked.

I hugged myself looking away, as the teen started to sob.

A tired sigh came from Mito “It’s the worse outcome it seems. Child,”

I thought she was talking to Kushina till Tsunade patted my head making me look up again, it seemed Kushina also noticed me now for the first time.

I bowed politely “I’m Kikyō Uzumaki, Mito-sama” My voice came smaller than I wanted as I still choked back emotions.

“She’s…the only one we found there,” Tsunade told them

Alive went unsaid.

“There should be others…Some were to evacuate off the island, but I don’t know if they’ll come here.” I said my voice almost a whisper, fidgeting with the hem of my shirt.

“Protocols hadn’t changed much since my time there it seems.” Mito said sighing “To think the Uzumaki clan would be gone with most scattered among the nations like this”

“We found bodies from Kiri, Kumo, and Iwa.” Tsunade continued “To think the one time they’d work together would be for this.”

I had only combated against Kiri and Iwa with sensei. Three villages…all to take down one clan.

Kushina was crying while hitting the ground.

“Come here, Kushina,” Mito told her when Kushina went to her she was hugged by Mito. “It’s okay child.”

I was standing awkwardly there. It felt like I was intruding…and also some resentment the two of them had been here safe, they hadn’t seen it, the destruction, the attack…all of it. I just looked away crossing my arms, staying quiet.

“Kushina calm yourself down, child.”

The teen redhead sniffles as she wipes her tears. “Now, Tsunade-chan can you take Kushina and leave me and Kikyō-chan?”

I stood straight at that, looking at Tsunade who gave me a reassuring look before she led Kushina out of the room. Kushina herself gave me a weird look before they closed the shoji door leaving the two of us. I was standing awkwardly there with Mito smiling.

“Come sit, Kikyō-chan. I believe we have much to talk about.” She gestures to the seating cushion opposite to her. I sit in seiza. “I know you probably suffered much but we do have important points to discuss, don’t we?”  

She was giving me a knowing look that made me more nervous. I was checking all around me for the anbu from before, but I only sensed a hum of chakra like a bubble around the room.

“Privacy seals?” I ask and she smiles

“Quite perceptive, I am guessing you didn’t tell Tsunade-chan?” I shake my head “One Uzumaki sensor to another, your chakra gives you away; the way it moves.”

“Mito-sama…how much do you sense?”

“hmm…I mean my range is almost the entire of the land of fire.”

My eyes widened, Satoshi-sensei’s range covered about the entire of Uzushio and that had been impressive. The entire land of fire? Mine is just about 20 km!

“You...Mito-sama, you know about the seal then?”

She nods “Indeed. I have to say though I am surprised I didn’t expect Takumi to entrust that duty to such a young child.” She was pretty amused like she knew already everything there is to know about me.

I fidgeted under her gaze. It was obvious she was waiting for me to tell her if I knew the reason or to share what I knew.

“My teacher…was Satoshi Uzumaki. Takumi-sama’s son.” I shared

“Satoshi-kun…I see…He was a wonderful child, it was sad he lost Kana-chan. To lose our beloved, something we Uzumaki suffer greatly for. He would have never chosen another after her.” She said melancholy “Come in, Amariko,” She said after moving her hand on the table disabling the privacy seals.

The woman from earlier, Amariko opened the shoji before bringing in a tray with tea pot and tea cups. She placed it on the table before bowing and leaving closing the door behind her. Mito activated the seals with a chakra pulse again.

She reached for the pot pouring the tea, her hands were steady. As old as she was, she was still a shinobi.

“Thank you” I thanked her for the tea cup she handed over before she poured her on.

“Such a polite child.” She commented, “Was it Takumi, or Satoshi-kun that chose you then?”

“I think it was…Takumi-sama, Satoshi-sensei didn’t want a student from what I know” I smiled sadly as I remembered our interactions. “He made sure to push me though. He was my teacher for almost two years before…” I clenched my fists as my voice faded.

“If the attack hadn’t happened or had the village survived, you’d have come here in due time just like Satoshi-kun had when he was younger, and his older brother before him. It was a tradition that the next head of Uzushiogakure would form a relationship with Konohagakure. But fate led you here much earlier and in a worse way than what should have been.” She drank her tea and so did I. “As for your seal, I will teach you how to handle it and how to use it. But for now, keep it a secret even from Kushina-chan and Tsunade-chan.

What you have now is a treasure trove. You already will be a target like Kushina-chan for just being an Uzumaki. But that Information, if it gets out will put an even bigger target.”

I nod following along. “I understand, Mito-sama.”

She put her cup down “Come here, child.” She gestured for me to come closer. I got up and moved around the table to her before she pulled me into a hug. “You’ve lost so much for someone so young. Fate might have handed you a bad hand but it will get better.” She rubbed my back

“I’m fine Mito-sama.”

“I assume you’ve cried quite a lot, but that doesn’t erase the sadness I sense in you, child.”

Right…Kurama lets them sense negative emotions.

“I will be fine, Mito-sama.”

“Yes, you’re a strong child. I can also feel that in you. It may take some time but you’ll make your own place here eventually.”

I liked it, she felt warm, and my eyes already closing.

“You must be exhausted from the travel, child. Rest for now. This is your home now too.”

I couldn’t resist as my eyes closed and I fell into a deep slumber.

><><><><><><>< 

I eventually woke up on a bed in a new room. It took me a minute to remember where I was and what had happened.

I shouldn’t have slept like that.

I sighed as I got up. My pouch was on the desk in the room. The clock on the wall showed that it was almost three in the morning.

The room was very simple. It had a single bed beside the window, and a bedside table beside it. A desk on the other wall, a wardrobe at the foot of the bed, and a simple rug. It also had another regular door, I opened it to find a small attached bathroom with a bathtub too.

I was glad to make this discovery, I dug instantly through the storage scrolls in my pouch, getting the one I got some of my undamaged clothes back when I emptied my home.

It took me a few minutes to find it and get my clothes out before I went into the bathroom and filled the bath.

It was my first bath since the attack. The first kind of normalcy I felt, as I soaked in. “Konoha…” I was at the center of the world events now. The place where all my possible future knowledge would happen.

I also met Minato, Jiraiya, Tsunade…even Orochimaru. I met Kushina even though we hadn’t talked yet. And Mito Uzumaki…She’s going to die soon, isn’t she? She will transfer Kurama to Kushina.

“I wonder if that will change with me here” I mutter quietly sinking into the water further.

In my old life, I was a normal kid. I went to school, graduated, and joined the workforce. I was a civilian nerd, nobody. Not a soldier, or even anyone important. Knowing the future or a possible one scared me more than not knowing in my old life because I knew now I would blame myself for everything, like Uzushiogakure. I couldn’t live a quiet life; I was denied that the moment I remembered anything.

Even if I was mentally older. This life was new to me in a lot of ways, and the responsibilities in it were far more. I was scared.

After the bath, and getting dressed, I put my dirty clothes in a storage scroll - I wasn’t comfortable leaving it out in a room that wasn’t mine - then went to bed to rest till actually morning.

I didn’t sleep, just like a light meditation or just closing my eyes. When a knock finally came on the room’s door, it was around nine in the morning.

“Kikyō-san, breakfast is ready.” It was Amariko.

I opened the door “Good morning, Amariko-san”

“Good morning, Kikyō-san. Mito-sama asked me to get you for breakfast.” She was smiling

Amariko was an older woman, she looked to be in her forties, with black hair and black eyes to match. Her clothes didn’t carry any clan insignia from what I can see.

I nod “Can you show me the way please?”

“Of course”

We walked through the house and I tried to memorize the way we took till we reached a room like yesterday’s with a short-legged table. Tsunade, Kushina, and Mito were already there and the food was already served on the table.
“Good morning” I greeted them.

“Good morning, Kikyō-chan” Mito greeted me “Come sit here beside Kushina-chan”

Mito sat at the head, Tsunade on one side, Kushina on the other. I sat beside Kushina and Tsunade greeted me, while Kushina was quiet.

With an itadakimasu, we all started eating. “Third-sama sent a messenger earlier, he’ll be visiting us later.”

There was probably a lot to be digested here, for one he was obliged to with the last three known Uzumaki being here, with me being here - a new face he didn’t know - and probably to discuss what Konoha would do with what happened with Uzushiogakure.

“Jiraiya did say sensei said that yesterday.” Tsunade mentioned, “We thought this could be a reason to start another war.” She said understandably tired. Another war so soon after the last one.

“There’s probably also the matter of Kikyō’s enrollment.” Mito switched the topic to me

“My enrollment?” I was a little confused

“The Academy usually holds its entry exams in February before the term starts in April,” Mito explained.

It was March. I had missed the time to register for the Academy.

“Which means any late entries needed special approval from the Hokage.” Mito continued to explain “Don’t worry much, Kikyō-chan. Hiruzen would be going senile if he didn’t let you in.”

“Granny!” Tsunade objected groaning much to the amusement of the older woman “You can’t just disrespect the Hokage.”

“Ease up Tsuna-chan,” Mito chuckled “If I didn’t use Hashirama’s status to make fun of any Hokage that followed, life wouldn’t be as fun.”

Tsunade just sighs “I need a drink.” She gets up heading out of the room.

Kushina put her chopsticks down soon after “I am going to train in the back.” She gave me a look, her chakra screamed with suspicion and annoyance before she left.

“Did I do something?” I asked Mito once it was just the two of us.

“Not quite you, Kushina was curious about our conversation yesterday and wouldn’t accept that I wouldn’t tell her.” She continued eating “Now, don’t be too nervous with Hiruzen he’s a good man. Also…Don’t be surprised if they decide not to engage in retaliation for Uzushiogakure.”

My head turned sharply at that “What?!”

“Hiruzen much like my late husband is a man of peace, perhaps too much. With Uzushiogakure gone, not many will support entering another war.”

I hated this, I really did, what’s worse is that I understood. War was too much risk, too much loss, and blind revenge wouldn’t help anyone.

It still sucked and hurt. I would be expected to not only become a shinobi of Konoha but to have my loyalty to it when my home wasn’t avenged.

I clenched my fists and tried to calm myself down.

“You know, Kikyō-chan. Most kids your age wouldn’t be this calm or have this much control over their emotions.”

I stayed quiet at that point. There were Anbu hidden in the room - two by my count - I wasn’t going to give them anything at this point.

“I can see now why Takumi would have chosen you, an old soul such as yourself.” She wondered as she placed her chopsticks down.

I glanced at her and she chuckled.

“Child, I have been alive long enough to know such things. Yes, you’ll adjust eventually to this as well, whether that’s a good or bad thing…well, you’ll always find truth to both sides.”

Yes, that was true, adjusting to things quickly can be both a good and bad thing. I didn’t have much choice though. I mean…I have to be a shinobi and even if Konoha didn’t avenge my clan or take a stand for them, it was better than going to one of the villages that caused the tragedy. Or a small village where I’d only probably be used for my Uzumaki blood…and the people I lost…

“…will…will they at least hold a funeral or ceremony?” I asked hesitantly

“They will, it was my home village, Kikyō-chan. Trust that I will at least demand that. Now tomorrow, I will ask Tsunade to take you out. You’re probably in need of clothes, that are more suitable to the land of fire climate.”

My current clothes were the lightest I had but even those would probably end up being too warm in the land of fire’s summer eventually…but these were the last things I had of home.

“Don’t worry child, you will still get the clan insignia on them and you can keep those for winter.”

I smiled “Thank you, Mito-sama.”

I didn’t know how things would turn out…well, I did to an extent…I just didn’t know how they would change. If things can be changed by the flutter of a butterfly’s wings, then my presence might make waves. Whether I wanted it or not.

 

Chapter 7: Konohagakure

Notes:

Sorry this is late. Real life got to me at work and in my personal life, I barely had time to sit down and write anything until this week. Hope you enjoy this chapter everyone!!

The Third Hokage arrived in the afternoon. Tsunade had long left, saying something about needing to drink away from the political mess. Meanwhile, Kushina still hadn't said a word to me—to be fair, I hadn't tried to engage her either.

I had more immediate concerns, like the upcoming meeting with the Hokage. Also, Mito mentioned we could start my training on how to use the seal on me soon after that meeting.

Speaking of which, I was waiting in the same room as before with Mito and Kushina when Hiruzen Sarutobi arrived, led by Amariko. He wasn't what I expected—which was an oversight on my part—he wasn't the old grandfather figure from the story I remembered. This was a man in his early forties, still with brown hair and not as many wrinkles. He was dressed in the full Hokage garb.

"Mito-sama," he bowed his head. "Kushina-chan... and this must be Kikyō-chan."

"Hiruzen, have a seat. Amariko, the tea, please," Mito invited him, and he followed. "And indeed, this is our new arrival, Kikyō."

I bowed my head.

He was giving me a studying look. I didn't know what he was expecting; his chakra was pretty controlled too, showing the barest of emotions that I could actually read. This was a Kage-level person.

If I were in his position, I might expect a crying mess, especially if Jiraiya, Orochimaru, and the rest told him how I was during the time after they found me. I had already managed to get a handle on my emotions—for now, at least.

I might not be completely over it—if I ever will be—but I wasn't a crying mess right now, at least.

"How have you been feeling, Kikyō-chan?" he asked me. I could already see why he was so trusted. Just his tone made it seem like he cared, like it was an innocent question out of concern.

"Uh... fine... Hokage-sama," I said, hesitating a little, which hadn't been intentional. But even with him giving a grandfatherly front, his chakra... he was a force. I was staring at a man who could kill me with one move if he wished.

Hiruzen nodded. "That's good, child. I hope Konoha will grow to become a second home for you with time, then."

Amariko returned with the tea and started pouring it for everyone before bowing and heading outside. This was probably the time for a serious conversation.

"Mito-sama, Kushina-chan, and Kikyō-chan. I am truly sorry for your loss, but as it stands now, Konoha can't afford to start another war, especially with three nations at once." I didn't react, knowing this was coming. I also guessed Mito-sama had told Kushina, as she told me, so when Kushina stood abruptly, I was surprised.

"YOU CAN'T!" she bellowed. "THAT..." She seemed to remember she was talking to the Hokage. "That was our home! You can't just let the people who destroyed it go!" She was looking at me for support, it seemed, so she definitely had already been warned by Mito.

"Kushina. Sit down," Mito told her, and the teen sat down, crossing her arms, fuming. "Apologies, Hiruzen, but emotions are expected to run high after what happened."

He shook his head before taking a sip of his tea. "No, it's quite expected, Mito-sama. No apologies are needed. Kikyō-chan, any input on your side? It's better to let it out instead of letting it fester."

I shook my head. What I thought didn't matter, and if said aloud, might get me in trouble. I mean, he had mentioned going to war with three nations. I remember seeing only people from Kiri and Iwa.

"You seem to be a smart child," he said, focusing on me, and I mentally cursed. I was probably not hiding my reactions well.

"No, you're right. The village can't afford to go to war for a fallen nation; it's not beneficial except as revenge, perhaps," I said diplomatically, even with Kushina gritting her teeth at my words.

He waited as if expecting me to say something else, but I stayed quiet.

Did I hate it? Yes. Did I understand why? Also, yes. The world wasn't kind or fair—whether this one or my old one. Revenge wouldn't bring anything back, though—just more hurt. And his valuing the lives of those alive over those gone was understandable.

Hiruzen regarded me with an unreadable expression, tapping his fingers against the porcelain of his teacup. Mito sipped her tea in silence, her golden eyes briefly flicking to Kushina, who was still fuming but holding herself back.

"You understand the situation well," he finally said, his voice even. "War is not something we enter lightly, no matter how justified the cause may seem."

He took another measured sip before continuing. "Uzushio was a valued ally, and its loss weighs heavily on us. However, the truth remains: Konoha is still recovering from our last war. We have enemies watching for any sign of weakness. If we were to act recklessly, we would be inviting disaster."

Kushina huffed, her hands clenching into fists on her lap. "So that's it? We just let them get away with it?" Her voice was tight with frustration.

Hiruzen set his cup down and met her glare with the steady patience of someone who had been questioned like this before. "Justice is not always served in the way we wish. But that does not mean it is forgotten."

His words carried weight, and even Kushina's anger seemed to waver. He wasn't saying that there would never be consequences—just that they wouldn't be immediate.

Mito placed her cup down, the quiet click against the tray drawing attention. "Hiruzen, what will happen to Kikyō now?"

He exhaled, his posture shifting slightly as his gaze slid to me. "I recommend we start integrating you into Konoha, and if you wish, you may get assessed to join the upcoming academy class."

I gripped my teacup, wondering. I didn't have much of a choice. I was a four-year-old, and I wasn't stupid enough to consider my memories of another life or my training so far were enough to help me survive on my own.

As a known Uzumaki, my life was already on the line—if we consider those after an Uzumaki, someone trying to finish the job from Uzushio, or even if Danzo was operating in the same way I knew from the story in real life now.

And also, it wasn't just my life...

"If another Uzumaki survivor shows up... what will happen to them?"

Hiruzen's gaze sharpened slightly at my question, though his expression remained unreadable. He set his teacup down with deliberate precision, taking a moment before answering.

"That would depend on the circumstances of their arrival," he said finally. "If another Uzumaki survivor were to appear at our gates, we would, of course, offer them shelter and protection."

His words were calm, reassuring even, but they weren't a promise. I narrowed my eyes slightly, waiting for him to continue.

"However," he went on, fingers interlacing as he rested his hands on his lap, "it would also depend on their affiliations, their intentions, and their history. Not all survivors are the same. Not all would wish to integrate into Konoha as you will."

A careful answer. A political answer. He wasn't lying, but he wasn't saying everything either.

He already assumed I'm staying, I thought as I went over his last sentence. He knows I have no other options.

Mito hummed, swirling her tea before taking a sip. "And if such a survivor wished to live here as a citizen?"

Hiruzen nodded. "Then we would welcome them, provided they had no ties that might endanger the village."

That was the key phrase. Provided they had no ties that might endanger the village.

If someone like me—or even an older, stronger Uzumaki—came knocking, he would weigh the risk against the benefit.

Kushina scowled, gripping her teacup tightly. "You mean you'd decide whether they're useful."

Hiruzen sighed, as if accustomed to such challenges. "I mean that Konoha must protect itself, Kushina-chan. Just as Uzushio once did. A village does not survive by offering blind trust."

It was quiet again, or as quiet as it could be with a fuming Kushina.

"...What will it include? Me integrating into Konoha, that is," I asked, focusing on him, but Mito was the one who replied.

"I assume Academy training, getting familiarized with the village. You can stay here, of course, or, if you wish, another home in the village," she listed, as if she wasn't giving another choice to the Hokage.

She had been the first Hokage's wife, a powerful kunoichi in her own right, and right now, that showed in her no-nonsense attitude.

Hiruzen regarded Mito carefully before exhaling through his nose, his fingers tapping lightly against his knee. "That would be a reasonable approach," he conceded. "Adjusting to life here will take time, and having stability is important."

His gaze slid back to me. "You are free to remain with Mito-sama if that is your wish. However, should you desire another arrangement, accommodations can be made."

It was a diplomatic answer, but I knew the truth—he wasn't really giving me a choice. If I stayed with Mito, he kept me under watch, surrounded by people he trusted. If I went elsewhere, it would still be within the village, where they could keep an eye on me. Either way, I wasn't going anywhere.

I glanced at Mito, who remained composed, sipping her tea as if she had already known what his response would be.

"Alright," I said finally. "I'll stay here."

"Very well. I will send word when the academy is ready for your assessment. And your paperwork will be finalized at that time as well," he stated, and I realized I was a completely unknown entity. I don’t have a birth certificate or any paperwork now. "You will start receiving a stipend as well, like all Academy students, when the term starts."

"Kikyō shall also become the official Uzumaki clan head when she's of age or reaches Chūnin," Mito added. Kushina frowned and looked between me and Mito, as did Hiruzen.

A clan of two—me and Kushina. It was ridiculous, but the Uzumaki name still carried weight regardless.

"Alright," Hiruzen agreed. He glanced at me one last time as he stood up. "I will send word when the Academy is ready for your assessment. Until then, Mito-sama, Kushina-chan—Kikyō-chan." He gave a final nod before turning to leave.

The moment he stepped out, the tension in the room shifted. Kushina turned to Mito, crossing her arms. "You didn't tell me about that."

"There was no need," Mito replied calmly, taking another sip of tea.

"No need?" Kushina scoffed. "You just made her clan head! Shouldn't we have talked about it first?"

Mito exhaled through her nose, setting her cup down with a quiet clink. "Kikyō is the clan heir, Kushina. I confirmed this yesterday with her."

"And you just believed her?!" Kushina scowled, and I shifted uncomfortably. I wasn't sure how I felt about what Mito was saying.

"It was not just a matter of belief, Kushina. I have seen evidence of it. And it's not for you to know," she added the last sentence as the teen opened her mouth before closing it again, gritting her teeth.

I held my breath, even if I wanted to sigh, to explain, to do something.

Kushina's fists clenched and unclenched, her jaw set. She stormed out of the room after giving me a glare, as if I had personally ruined her life.

I turned to Mito. "I am sorry..." I didn't know what I was even apologizing for... it just felt like it was my fault.

She shook her head. "She'll understand with time. However, what do you think of it?"

I looked down at my tea. What did I think about it? I only found out about what I was being trained for as... everything was about to... My hands tightened around my teacup.

"I... don't want to be a clan leader... I am not..." I had always hated it—being thrown into leadership roles, being the one responsible for people. And this time, I was four... and I would be responsible for lives. "I am just a kid. No one ever told me till I was facing that seal and being told..".

"You're not ready. You probably won't be ready for years," she told me bluntly. "I won't have a lot of time to prepare you for leadership. I will teach you what I can; it won't be easy. But I will trust you to manage. You're young, but the shinobi world isn't so kind as to care for age, even inside the village."

She didn't have time. She was probably going from Kurama to Kushina soon.

"Now, Tsunade is on her way back. She'll take you shopping and walk you around the village. I know it's not going to be easy. But Konoha is going to be your home now," she informed me, drinking her tea slowly. I finished my own tea and waited. Tsunade wasn't in my sensing range right now, so I didn't know how far out she was.

I didn't sense Tsunade until she was down the street from the house. It was about five minutes later when she reached the house and entered the tea room.

"I am assuming, with no Kushina here, it ended with a screaming match?" she asked as she entered.

Mito nodded, sighing tiredly. "Indeed."

Tsunade turned to me. "Ready to go, brat?"

I nodded, standing up, and didn't comment on the "brat" part.

"Try to enjoy yourselves," Mito told us as we headed out. I didn't know if I could after today, but I'd try.

---

Konoha was different. It was... peaceful... happy. In a way, a reminder of Uzushio before... everything that happened. It was still going to take me a bit to get used to the different architecture, the roads, and the weather. It was... too different.

"Don't stare too hard," Tsunade muttered as we walked through the streets, hands behind her head. "They'll stare back eventually."

"I am just trying to get used to it," I replied.

A few children who looked older than me ran past us, laughing, wooden kunai in hand. Shopkeepers arranged their wares, some calling their prices or bargaining with customers. Shinobi passed by in green flak jackets, chatting or heading down the street—I even noticed a few carrying the Uchiha clan mark and a different type of waist sash. A few glanced our way—Tsunade was hard to miss—but they didn't stop.

"Those are the Military Police; the Uchiha clan controls that. They're our form of local law enforcement. I assume you know about the Uchiha clan?" Tsunade explained as she saw me staring.

I nodded. "Yeah... I know about most of the larger clans... it was part of my... studies."

"Are you hungry?" she asked as we passed a dango stand. "I haven't eaten since this morning."

"I... could eat," I admitted.

She led me into the dango stand. It was a small shop with only a couple of tables, tucked between a bookshop and an herbal shop. It was clean and bright and smelled like grilled meat and sweet soy.

Inside, a man with a younger child was already seated, eating skewers of dango—the man enjoying it more than the child, weirdly enough. But what grabbed my attention more was the silver hair and the mask covering the lower half of the kid's face. I had to blink twice and try to school my expression.

Tsunade confirmed my suspicions when she waved at the man. "Sakumo, this is the brat I mentioned last night. Kikyō. This is Sakumo Hatake."

I wondered why I was mentioned at all and if us being here now was planned. Sakumo smiled at me, while Kakashi didn't even look my way beyond a small glance before going back to chewing.

How does he keep getting the dango past the mask so fast?

"You don't look like trouble, like Tsunade said," Sakumo remarked, the corners of his eyes crinkling slightly.

"I am not." I crossed my arms, shifting awkwardly, as I shot Tsunade a look. She just grinned back, uncaring.

Kakashi didn't even look up, just kept chewing with what I could only describe as... faint disinterest. "This is my son, Kakashi. Don't mind him," Sakumo gestured toward him. "He's shy."

"I am not shy," Kakashi said without looking up.

"See? Not shy, just rude," Sakumo added with a grin.

Tsunade chuckled and slid into a seat next to Sakumo. I hesitated before taking the only empty seat beside Kakashi.

I was sure now she had partially planned this.

As expected, the waitress brought Tsunade a small white bottle, which I assumed held sake, before turning to me. "Sweetie, what do you want?"

Being treated as a kid... was a little jarring, especially since the people I had met so far had treated me more... like a normal person.

"Order what you want, brat. I got it," Tsunade told me. I just nodded.

"If you have some... red-bean dango?" I asked quietly, and the waitress nodded, grinning, before assuring me they had it and going to get it.

To say it was awkward... well, it wasn't. Tsunade and Sakumo were whispering between themselves, while Kakashi focused on his dango, and I just watched the passing people through the flaps of the dango stand.

The waitress came back with my dango quickly—skewers lined neatly, steaming, and drizzled with sweet glaze. I took one, letting the warmth soak into my fingers before biting into it slowly.

Comfort food. Sweet, soft, and a little chewy. It reminded me of a festival back home. The last one before—

I pushed the thought aside.

From beside me, Kakashi had polished off a second stick and was working on a third. He still hadn't said much. I wasn't sure if I should, either. But the silence between us wasn't heavy, just... cautious.

I might be older in soul, but I was still four, sometimes just blurting out what was on my mind. I watched him for a moment before blurting out softly, "How do you eat through the mask?"

The moment I said it, I realized how childish it sounded. Kakashi paused. He turned his head just slightly, his eye landing on me. "Secret jutsu."

I blinked. "What?"

"I'd have to kill you if I told you."

I stared at him, unsure if he was being serious. Then, slowly, he turned back to his dango.

"...You're kidding."

He didn't reply, but I caught the slight lift of his shoulder—the tiniest shrug—and a twitch at the edge of his eye that might've been a smile. Maybe.

We fell quiet again after that.

Tsunade and Sakumo were still deep in quiet conversation, something low and serious, judging by the way her brow kept twitching and his smile had faded.

I looked down at the last of my dango as I ate slowly.

Eventually, Sakumo stood up, brushing his hands on his pants. "Come on, Kakashi. Let's head home."

After they left, Tsunade stretched her arms behind her back again. "Not bad. Didn't even get into a fight."

"Was I supposed to?"

"Would've been funny," she muttered with a grin, taking a sip of her sake.

"So, you really brought us here on purpose," I deadpanned at her, and she grinned unapologetically.

She shrugged, taking another sip of her sake. "Sakumo mentioned his kid wasn't making friends, and you looked like you needed friends. That and Kakashi should be in your class at the academy. What did sensei tell you about that, anyway?"

"He said something about an assessment for the academy and that I would be staying in the Senju house for now."

Tsunade nodded. "And this is the point where you actually share how much training you've had before."

I avoided her gaze. I mean, how hard would the assessment actually be? If they accepted civilian-born, it meant they wouldn't test jutsu knowledge—maybe basic writing and reading, a little math... maybe a physical test?

"Come on, brat. Any half-decent shinobi can see you've had some training."

I sighed, looking up. "I did..." I replied hesitantly.

"In?" she prompted.

"Basics... Water Style... sealing... summoning..." I listed some of the topics, and she blinked, her eyebrow twitching as she muttered something about prodigies.

She stood up, putting Ryo on the table. "Let's go, brat. We'll get you gear and clothes, then we're hitting the training ground."

She laughed, seeing my face lose color and my eyes widen. I am so dead.

---

The shopping wasn't bad. It was almost even fun.

The shop we went to was obviously made for shinobi. The clothes there were practical, with a whole section for mission gear and training gear. It smelled like metal. Rows of shinobi gear lined the walls—pouches, kunai, chakra paper, blank scrolls, weighted wristbands, and even a few old flak jackets hung behind the counter, faded and patched. The old man running the place clearly knew her, judging by the way he waved her in with a half-smile and a sigh.

"You finally got a student, Tsunade-hime?" he asked.

Tsunade glanced at me. "Nope. But I do need to get her set up. From gear to regular clothes."

"Ah... new Academy kid, then," he commented. "They keep getting tinier and tinier."

I tried not to bristle at that. I was tiny. But still.

I went around looking, and by the end, I had an assortment of things: tops, bottoms, and a pair of sandals. Also, not just clothes—we got empty scrolls and notebooks. Then training weapons, which basically amounted to kunai, shuriken, and a tanto on the duller side. The shinobi equivalent of safety scissors.

Tsunade paid for it. When I tried to return some items, she assured me it was Mito's orders and that it was Mito's money. With everything packed into storage scrolls, we headed out.

Then we were walking through the village again.

Konoha was different from Uzushio in weird ways. Uzushio had been built like its namesake, in the formation of a whirlpool—it was circular, with the central area rising.

Konoha... had a central area too, which we passed through, but it didn't follow a circular design. It had three main roads that extended from each of its three gates, all of them leading to the Hokage building right under the Hokage Mountain. It was different.

Tsunade was an excellent guide for this. She showed me the main hubs in the village as we passed them, then the academy, which was just beside the Hokage building. Then we continued to the training grounds.

Which, unsurprisingly, most of them weren't in the village proper. While some small ones were, the bigger ones—and, according to Tsunade, the ones used by actual shinobi—were accessed through the west gate. She mentioned there was one on top of the Hokage mountain and one beyond as well. But usually, you would need to head to the ones from the west gate. And they were fenced too and covered by the occasional patrol, so completely safe.

The training ground we stopped at was in a clearing with trees surrounding it and a small river passing through. A training post stood in it, with some targets hanging from trees.

“Okay, brat.” Tsunade started and led me to the middle of the training ground. “Show me what you've got.”

I sensed her chakra before I saw her. I yelped as I barely dodged her fist, and she hit the ground, destroying it in one go under me. I had to jump back again as the ground cracked and a crater formed.

“What the hell?!” I shouted.

She smirked and cracked her knuckles. “Come on, kid, I’m even holding back.” She lunged at me again.

I reacted this time; three chains came out of my back, forming a pseudo shield to block her punch. Was I surprised when she broke right through it? Yes…

“Holding back my ass,” I mutter as I again barely dodge. I could barely see her; I had to rely on my chakra sensing more than my sight to even keep up with her. I was completely on the defensive.

And she was speeding up… “Shit,” I cursed as she started going faster and faster. Even with my chakra sensing…my body couldn’t keep up… At least she can heal me up after.

Her fist connected with my stomach, the air left my chest, and then I was thrown back. I was too winded to react physically, but I guess on reflex my chains formed again, as they shielded me from the plethora of trees I hit on my way before I ended up on the ground.

I just lay on the ground, winded and groaning in pain. It was probably seconds later—though it felt like hours—that she stood over me. “Not bad, brat. Good reflexes at least. Your taijutsu sucks, though.”

I just groaned back at her. Leaving the curses inside my head.

She put one hand glowing green to my chest, and I felt my pain retreat to soreness.

“Stand up; we’re not done yet.” She smirked, pulling my arm and picking me up like a rag doll. “Let’s continue; ninjutsu is next. I saw your chains; they make a good defense against a normal person, but if you can always dodge, don’t block. You never know from the first hit how much power the other person is coming at you with.” I nodded as she continued.

“Now, show me first what else those chains can do, then we’ll switch to water ninjutsu that you said you knew.”

She carried me back to the clearing in the training ground again. I stumbled a little as she dropped me before I regained my footing.

She crossed her arms and waited for me. I breathed in…one…two…

Three chains formed from my back again, and I had them shoot at some of the fallen tree debris… I threw a tree at her with the chains.

It took effort, I won’t lie; did I think that would hit her? Probably not, but I am very annoyed right now.

The tree was going straight for her; she didn’t move, she just punched the tree, and it broke into pieces. I had to cover my face as the splinters flew past me. When it settled down, I looked at her, my eyebrow twitching.

She nodded. “Okay, those aren’t bad either. Now water-style brat.”

This is where I messed up badly… It wasn’t that I didn’t perform the jutsu even…

I formed the hand signs “Water Release: Wild Water Wave!” I shot the water at her, the water released from my mouth like a high tide wave, not that it fazed her at all—it did get a raised eyebrow—before she sliced the water with her palm like nothing.

“Just let me hit you!” If anyone asks if I stomped like a child here, I will deny it, kill them, and seal their body away.

She smirked, amused, before she asked the question that made me realize how I messed up. “So, you can use water release without using an actual water source.” It wasn’t a question; it was stated like a fact by her.

I froze.

Water release was unique in that it needed a nearby water source to perform strong jutsu; hell, even most users struggled with performing basic ones. That’s something Satoshi-sensei had told me.

It wasn’t even a chakra reserve issue, because a lot of Uzumaki still used to struggle with it. It was skill; few water-natured shinobi can use the release to its full potential without a water source nearby.

“Brat, we already know you’re probably a prodigy. Granny Mito has a sharp eye for those things, and she let me know ahead of time. And you’re not that good at hiding it.” She said, amused. “Well, now let’s move on; we still have a lot to cover.”

I was grateful she didn’t linger on it.

After that we continued; she tested my basic ninjutsu—transformation, substitution, and clone—and we moved on to shurikenjutsu, as she had me throw kunai at different targets. Finally, there was genjutsu, where she admitted she only knew a few basic ones, and she tested my ability to get out of them.

By the end I was tired; my chakra and stamina might be Uzumaki, but her title as Sanin hadn’t been a joke. The taijutsu at the start alone had been too much for little me…

She picked me up over her shoulder, and I didn’t have the energy to protest, so I just groaned; she laughed when I did.

“Well, kid, you definitely will get into the academy…” She told me before her voice quieted down as I barely heard the next part, “And hopefully don’t get sent out too quickly after.”

 

Chapter 8: The lessons start

Notes:

Hello everyone, It seems everytime I sit down to write Work or life gets in the way somehow. Hope you like the chapter. Also because this was asked a few times, here's a list of current ages: - it's currently march of that year -
Kikyo/Kakashi/Rin: four year old (Should be turning five in this year)
Obito: Five Year old
Minato: Fourteen
Kushina: Thirteen (Should be turning fourteen in this year)
Jiraiya/ Tsunade/ Orochimaru: twenty-eight (Should be turning twenty-nine in this year)
Sakumo: Thirty
Hiruzen: Fourty-seven
Mito: sixty-seven

I was completely exhausted after the training – aka. one-sided beating – with Tsunade. I just fell asleep while she carried me back to the Senju house.

I woke up around midnight, though. I was lying in the bedroom the same as the last two days, my body still sore from that training, but at least it didn’t hurt as much as earlier. I closed my eyes, focusing on the different chakra signatures in the house. Amariko wasn’t in the house. Mito and Kushina were asleep, each in their own rooms. Tsunade was awake, but from how her chakra fluctuated, she was in the process of drinking.

I sighed and got up, heading to the small desk where my storage scrolls lay, along with my pouch. I got the shopping from this morning and started putting everything away.

It was a mindless task as I put the clothes and gear away; I put the weapons in pouches and bags. All while thinking about everything that happened. I wasn’t sure what to expect with the academy, the future…or the version I knew of.

Tsunade, Kushina, and Mito; Sakumo and Kakashi; Minato, Jiraiya, and Orochimaru; and the Third Hokage.

People that had been once on paper now were living and breathing. Uzushio hadn’t appeared in the story; it had been something mentioned, so it wasn’t as much as seeing actual people that were once just drawings.

Even if they were still younger than they had been in the story. They hadn’t seen a lot yet.

Minato and Kushina are still chunin, still young teens. They haven’t seen the war yet, or the pain that comes with it.

Tsunade… I didn’t know if Dan or Nawaki was alive or dead. I hadn’t seen either of them around, but it can be as simple as they’re away on a mission, and with her wearing her Jōnin uniform so far, I hadn’t noticed if she was wearing the first Hokage’s necklace.

Did they die when Tsunade was in her thirties or earlier? I didn’t remember the details around that part.

Mito was still alive, and there was nothing I could do about it. Immortality was beyond me, and she would definitely decide to pass Kurama to Kushina and pass away soon after. Maybe this is what causes Tsunade to leave; if Dan and Nawaki are already gone, then she also loses the last blood relative she has?

Orochimaru was still a Konoha shinobi and would be for years if everything followed what I know, but would he be involved with Danzo by now? And Jiraiya, did he come back from his travels already? Or had he not gone yet?

Sakumo was still alive, Kakashi hadn’t lost him, and hadn’t become rule-obsessed yet. Can I actually do something about that? Stop a man from…

I sigh and move to the bed and sit down, hugging my knees. I was going to put that off for now. I should just go back to sleep for now.

The next day, I sat through the breakfast Amariko had made. Kushina on my left, Tsunade sitting across with what seemed to be a hangover, and Mito at the head of the table. It wasn’t tense or awkward, just quiet. Or at least it was till Mito broke the silence.

“After breakfast, we’ll hold our fūinjutsu lessons, Kushina. Kikyō, you’ll be joining as well.”

“We’re holding back on the lessons?” Kushina asked, frowning.

“No. I am sure Kikyō can keep up. Right, Kikyō?” Mito replied as she continued to eat. Kushina just looked ticked.

I got people dealt with their grief differently, but a teen taking it out by being angry at a four-year-old didn’t seem healthy to me.

“Yeah, I was already past the basics.” I replied, and Mito nodded, and the quiet resumed—though the tension now lingered a little longer.

By the end of breakfast, Tsunade left, while we moved into a side room for the lessons.  It wasn’t particularly large, but the walls were covered in scrolls, inkbrush racks, and paper tags. The scent of old parchment and fresh ink clung to the air, grounding and sharp. The table at the center had been wiped clean, with a set of brushes and chakra paper already laid out for each of us.

Despite her age, Mito moved gracefully; all her movements were so measured and didn’t show a sign of it. She took her seat at the table, then Kushina followed in front of her, and I moved to take a seat beside her.

“Let’s clear this: both of you will have a grouped lesson like this one, and then there will be one-on-one lessons, since each of you has a separate matter to learn.” Mito started

Aka. Kushina is going to have a chakra beast sealed inside her, and I have a library sealed inside me.

“Now today, I want to continue our lesson on containment seals, Kushina, while also establishing your skill level, Kikyō.” Mito continued as she pulled a scroll for us, spreading it on the table. “Last time, you struggled with chakra flow consistency for the layers, Kushina. Start with that.”

Kushina blushed, embarrassed, before pulling a chakra paper and starting to work on it.  Mito turned to me. “Kikyō, show me a base containment seal, and we’ll judge your skill level.” She told me, and I nodded as I pulled another chakra paper and started working on it.

The scroll and paper were familiar; I had spent the last two years doing this, practicing and working on Fūinjutsu. I pulled the brush and ink bottle as I started drawing the symbols. It was a whole different experience feeling the chakra flow through my brush as I wrote, feeling it click into place.

The symbols curved naturally beneath my strokes, the array slowly forming like I’d done it a hundred times before.

Containment seals, like the name, were a base form of Fūinjutsu. They could be as simple as storing chakra to be used by another seal or as complicated as sealing tailed beasts. I also knew with time, some Uzumaki would get a containment seal to enhance the Adamantine Chains. Another form of it was Tsunade’s famous Chakra Seal, which was a form of containment seal for storing chakra and Jutsu. It was probably layered with a healing seal. But I digress.

It was very important to understand the base containment seal because it was important for a lot of other seal branches. Some can even be used as one-time defense versus a genjutsu or jutsu, like an absorption seal. The applications were many, and it was important to have it down.

Kushina struggling with layers of chakra flow consistency was akin to leaving open lines in a circuit or short circuits, so it means you were losing chakra somewhere or somewhere was getting more chakra, making it unbalanced as a circuit. The layers part is when you start to make it into a single matrix, but with layers to handle different things.

I finished the seal and looked up. “Mito-sama, I’m done.” I passed her the chakra paper. She examined the seal, applied chakra to it first, increasing the amount of chakra gradually, and moved where she was applying the chakra from and then started applying and cutting the chakra application to it to test how it reacts.

Seal testing had been a whole lesson, especially after my screw-up when I was a toddler—a very long and painful lesson. Depending on the seal, your skill level, and the skill level of the person that made the seal, you took different preparation steps. This was a simple containment seal—it wasn’t even layered—the worst that could happen was the seal would burn out, or it would fizzle the chakra out.

She smiled and nodded approvingly. “This is good form,” she said after a moment, her gaze sharp but approving.  “The flow is controlled and optimized, and I don’t see any unintentional leaking outside of the expected.”

I exhaled, relieved.

Across the table, Kushina’s brow was furrowed in concentration. Her brush slipped a little—too much chakra in the wrong line. The containment loop wobbled, the ink reacting with a shimmer before the seal fizzled out completely.

“Ugh!” she groaned, throwing the brush down. “It keeps slipping!”

“Your chakra is fluctuating again,” Mito said. “Take a breath before each stroke. You’re not in a fight—there is no need to rush.”

Kushina didn’t answer, just stared hard at her half-finished seal. Her hands clenched in her lap.

“I am trying!” She shot back.

Mito sighed. “Kikyō, start working on a layered one. Kushina, start over again, and take it slow.” Her gaze was stern at the teen girl.

I pulled another paper and started working on my own seal. A layered containment seal means multiple single ones, but you need to layer and attach them in a way to still keep them balanced with each other. You need them harmonized, balanced, and fitting together like puzzle pieces, while also considering the chakra loss from each layer as it increases exponentially with the number of layers.  

Three layers were the standard; some can go into an extreme five. If you wanted to stand out, you could go into an even four, but that was less common.

I moved my brush, I preferred the five and four myself, but my chakra seemed to harmonize better with even numbers or multiples of five. Satoshi-sensei had mentioned that it was sometimes like that, and I should stick with what my instincts preferred.

I made the first layer then moved to the second balancing them with each other, which was the harder part, you had to make the two seals fit together and work together. I balanced the chakra by making the first layer a four-point seal with symmetrical anchor pairs, then the second layer was an eight-pint seal. You never put an even seal with an odd seal, that was very important. Most of the times they would just act against each other.

I continued on to the third and fourth layer, following a pattern of 4-8. The fifth layer I stopped with a four-point. When I was done I re-checked it again applying chakra and checking everything.

“I think I’m done, Mito-sama.” I said when and pushed my seal towards her. I felt Kushina’s chakra as she got annoyed again while working. Mito-sama started testing my seal like before.

“Good job, Kikyō.” She told me after she was done as she nodded approvingly “The seal is balanced, it has some issues, the chakra weakens at the outer layer, but it’s at good level for an intermediate level.”

I exhaled again, happy it worked. Most beginners would stick with three layers instead of five, easier to balance the calculations and chakra ratios, even if it was against your instincts.

“Alright, for the chakra loss at the outer layer you will need to fix this part…”

She started explaining to me that part, I had messed up the balance between the outer and inner layer.

“If you restructure the anchor on the fourth layer here,” she tapped the edge of the ring, “and reinforce it with a stabilizer array from the second layer mirrored at this point, the transfer will smooth out. Think of it like tightening the grip on a funnel—you’re guiding the chakra instead of letting it pool and leak.”

I nodded quickly, already committing it to memory. That part had always been tricky for me—balancing efficiency with flexibility. The more rigid the structure, the less adaptable the seal could be in fieldwork. But without enough structure, it would collapse under its own weight.

Kushina was still glaring at her third sheet of chakra paper. Her frustration spiked again, and I could feel it like static on my skin. Her chakra surged too quickly, her seal destabilizing before she even reached the halfway point.

“You’re forcing it again,” Mito said, and this time her voice had a thread of disappointment. “Kushina, you need to flow with the seal, not command it like a subordinate.”

“I know!” she snapped. “It’s not like I haven’t tried that!”

Mito didn’t raise her voice. She didn’t need to. “Then try again. Until you stop treating it like a fight.”

Kushina clenched her jaw but picked up the brush again. I could tell she was trying—not just to get the seal right, but to keep from storming out. It wasn’t easy being bested, especially by a four-year-old.

I kept my head down focusing on my own seal, fixing the parts Mito mentioned. By the time I was finished adjusting the last piece, Kushina let out a long breath. “There,” she muttered, and pushed her seal forward.

Mito took it, examined it closely, and nodded once. “Improved. The flow is more consistent, though you still have uneven layering. But it’s a step in the right direction.”

Kushina didn’t look at her. She just nodded tightly and folded her arms, refusing to meet my eyes.

Mito stood, her robes rustling gently. “That’s enough for today. You both did well, for different reasons. Kikyō, you’re ready to move to more advanced constructs. Kushina, you’ll repeat this practice every day until you master consistency.”

Kushina grumbled something under her breath but didn’t argue. I quietly nodded.

“Kushina stay for your lesson, Kikyō we’ll have our one on one lesson after dinner.” Mito told me “You are free to do what you want till then.”

“Okay” I replied quietly getting up, I bowed before heading out, leaving Kushina behind with Mito.

><><><><><><>< 

I didn’t feel like staying in the house after the lesson, so like a normal four-year-old in this world, I headed out into the village to explore.

I had seen some of the places with Tsunade, but I wanted to explore on my own. I walked around the streets. The villagers walked around, stopping to talk or greet each other sometimes; children darted around holding wooden kunai and playing around. Older than me, though, so I walked past them.

Something I noticed about the chunin walking around was their vests. I had seen it before on Tsunade and the others, but it wasn’t the one I knew from the story; this one was more faded out green without the chest pockets and without the Uzushiogakure symbol on the back.

That might get changed soon, probably. I still was reeling from the fact it was a little over a week since my home was gone. My family was gone.

I shook my head, focusing back on the village. I wasn’t going to depress myself again like this. I just walked around enjoying the village, getting myself familiar with the streets.

Somehow, I ended up at the playground, with a few kids playing kick the can. They did look my age. I knew they definitely were my age the moment I spotted Kakashi playing with them. The kids were all a group of five boys, including Kakashi, except for one girl who ran with them.

The girl had very distinct purple marks on her cheeks. Is that Rin? I wondered as I watched them. I hadn’t realized Kakashi knew Rin and Obito prior to the Academy starting. But here they were running around as they played.

I was about to keep walking, but Rin had seen me watching them and was now running towards me, calling. “Hey!” She called as she ran towards me smiling, “Are you new around here? Want to play with us?”

“Oh…I…” The boys had stopped playing and were watching us now.

“I am Rin. What’s your name?” She asked, smiling.

“Kikyō…Uzumaki,” I replied nervously; my hand twirled a hair lock as I stood.

No matter my mental age, I was a nervous mess. I hadn’t been very social in my old life, and this had carried over to here. To her credit, Rin pretended not to see it and took my hand. “Come play with us; it would be great having another girl around.”

I nod, and she pulls me along back to the group. “Everyone! This is Kikyō; she’s going to be playing with us too. This is Rimori…” She pointed to a kid with a band-aid on his nose. “…Tamaro…” She introduced the one with glasses, “...Shinzo.” He was the biggest of the kids, “... Obito…” Obito was as much as I remembered from my previous life, not the big villain that plunged the world into war, but the boy with orange goggles glaring slightly at Kakashi while giving me a look like sizing me up. “…and Kakashi.”

“We met.” Kakashi replied, and I nodded.

“Let’s get back to the game already.” Rimori said, “Obito, you were it.”

Obito grumbled and approached the can on the ground. “Fine, just run; I am the fastest around anyway, and I’ll catch all of you.”

We all ran to hide in the playground before he kicked the can. “Ready or not, here I come!”

Obito kicked the can and went to get it as we ran around; after bringing it back to place, he ran at us to try to get us. Obito was fast, not shinobi fast—yet—but fast for a five-year-old. The thing is, Kakashi and I were faster than the entire group; one second we were with the group, the next we were hidden from the group as Obito managed to catch everyone else.

“Come help us out!” Shinzo called as they were at the posts while Obito looked for Kakashi and me.

Obito was looking left and right as he searched for us; the playground had a few games—a slide, a swing, and some wooden poles—which was designated as the ‘prison’ area. I hid under the slide, and I can sense Kakashi in the trees at the side.

I was using a trick by adding chakra to my feet to make no sound when I walked. Kakashi was obviously doing that and also using something to increase his speed—maybe he was naturally fast?—one second, he was in the trees; the other, he was behind Obito, kicking the can and freeing everyone else.

That set the tone for that afternoon; I stayed hidden at that point—I got bored and sat on the ground, chin resting on my hand—Obito got everyone but Kakashi; Kakashi appeared and kicked the can and freed everyone. As the day progressed, Kakashi had offered multiple times to be ‘it,’ but Obito was stubborn.

As the sun started setting, the playground painted in its soft golden light, everyone stopped the game and sat down. Obito was chugging down water like there was no tomorrow. I got out from my hiding spot, and I saw him blinking twice. “You’re still here?” He asked, surprised.

I nodded, crossing my arms, “I was hiding.”

Rin laughed, “That was great; we didn’t even realize!”

I scratched my cheek nervously as I joined them. Rin turned to Obito. “You were ‘it’ the entire time, Obito!”

“He still couldn’t catch Kakashi and Kikyō-chan one time.” Rimori added laughing too.

Some adults arrived at the playground, and Rin smiled, getting up. “My mom’s here! I have to go now!”

“Me too,” Rimori said as he got up too.

“See you later!” Tamaro said as he ran with Rin and Rimori, Shinzo followed as he waved too.

It left me, Kakashi, and Obito after that.

“I should go too; I had fun.” I smiled. “It was nice meeting you, Obito-san, and seeing you again, Kakashi-san.”

I walked away after as I headed hom— to the Senju house.

It had been fun; I hadn’t gotten a chance to play like this since… I was in this life… The kids back home in Uzushio saw me as weird, and I was too busy training anyway. “Kikyō-chan,” I stopped as when Sakumo called me by the playground entrance, “You were playing with them today?”

I nodded, a small smile on my face. “Yeah, Hatake-san,” I replied, and the man smiled softly.

“Okay, wait up, and we’ll walk you home; wouldn’t want Tsunade-hime to get on my case.” He told me, and I shook my head.

“You don’t have to really; I went out alone anyway.” I answered back, but he crossed his arms.

“Yes, but it’s getting late, and a kid shouldn’t walk home alone; besides, it’s not out of our way.” He replied, “I am not taking no for an answer.”

“Dad!” Kakashi called happily as he came running. Sakumo instantly patted Kakashi’s head.

Kakashi grinned—or I assumed he did, the way his eyes crinkled happily—and leaned into his dad’s hand.

I felt something in my chest ache a little.

Still, I smiled, even as memories of my own father doing the same thing flickered in the back of my mind.

“Come on, Kikyō-chan,” Sakumo said, glancing down with a kind smile. “We’ll walk her home first, Kakashi.”

Kakashi nodded like it was a normal thing. We all fell into step as we started walking. “You two must be starving after all that running around.” Sakumo added casually.

"I didn’t do much running," I admitted. "I mostly hid.”

 Sakumo chuckled amused. “Smart. A good shinobi knows when to fight and when to disappear.”

Kakashi made a small noise of agreement, his hands tucked into his pockets.

“Kakashi was running around, though. You must have freed everyone, like…a hundred times or something,” The words tumbled out before I could stop them. “And you were pretty fast.”

Sakumo grinned. “Seems that you were the hero today, Kakashi.”

Kakashi shrugged, hands stuffed in his pockets. "It wasn't that hard," he muttered, but I caught the slight pink dusting his cheeks.

Sakumo laughed quietly, reaching over to ruffle Kakashi's hair again, making the boy duck away with an embarrassed scowl.

"Don’t let him fool you, Kikyō-chan. He trains more than most chunin I know."

I blinked. I believed it, honestly. Even as a kid, Kakashi was always ahead of everyone else.

"I guess that's why you’re so good already," I said, voice small but sincere. “You really were fast.”

Kakashi shot me a quick look — surprised, maybe — before huffing and looking away again. "You were good at hiding too," he mumbled. "I didn’t think anyone else noticed."

"I saw you," Kakashi said. "Under the slide," he added simply. "You stayed really still. It was good hiding."

I flushed a little, tucking a loose strand of hair behind my ear. "Thanks."

The village was quieter now, bathed in the warm, fading light of the sunset. Lanterns flickered to life along the streets.

I could hear the distant sounds of shops closing and parents calling their children in for the evening.

We walked a bit further in comfortable silence, Sakumo occasionally pointing out shortcuts or good places to get dango when the stand reopened.

He didn't talk at me the way adults sometimes did. It was nice.

By the time we reached the gate to the Senju house, I felt lighter somehow.

"Here we are," Sakumo said. "You’ll be alright from here?"

I nodded quickly. "Yes. Thank you, Hatake-san."

He smiled and gently nudged Kakashi forward. "Go on, say goodnight properly."

Kakashi looked reluctant for a split second but then muttered, "Goodnight, Kikyō-san."

I smiled wider. "Goodnight, Kakashi-san."

"Be safe," Sakumo added with a small wave, "and just Sakumo from now."

I watched them turn and head down the street before slipping inside the compound.
I still had my lesson with Mito after dinner.

><><><><><><>< 

Inside, I can sense Kushina wasn’t home, and neither was Tsunade. Amariko was in the garden, while Mito was in the study from earlier in the day. She pinged her chakra; I assumed she wanted me to join her then.

I changed my shinobi sandals for slippers before heading through the halls of the house.

There, Mito was sitting in seiza with some scrolls.

“Kikyō-chan, come sit,” She gestured to the space across from her.

I sat down there neatly, mirroring her posture.

“How was your walk?” She asked, and I could see the amusement in her eyes; she probably already knew what I had been up to just sensing my chakra all the way across the village.

“It was…fun,” I admitted, offering a small smile. “We played kick the can.”

She nodded, smiling. “I see…you know, I used to have a friend—Kimiko Yamanaka. She used to talk to me about what she saw in people after the first war…she came up with a theory. She said people grieve in five stages.”

I listened quietly as she continued.

“Denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance. Though I’ve found in our world… They don’t always arrive in order. And sometimes, they repeat. Sometimes you get stuck in one.”

Her voice wasn’t sad — just thoughtful, measured. Like someone who had spent a lifetime watching people break and put themselves back together again.

I looked down at my hands. I knew… I knew she was talking about me. “I don’t know which one I’m in.”

“You don’t have to name it, Kikyō-chan,” Mito replied softly. “It’s not a checklist. It’s a tide. Some days you’ll feel nothing at all. Other days, it might knock you off your feet.”

Her eyes met mine, steady and warm. “But it will get easier. Not because the loss is less, but because you will grow stronger. Your heart will make space for the pain, without being consumed by it.”

I swallowed, throat tight. “I thought… I was supposed to be over it by now.”

“No,” Mito said simply. “You’re supposed to survive it. That’s all. And surviving takes time. What I am trying to tell you is… it’s okay to be happy by now.”

I blinked, her words settling over me like a blanket I hadn’t realized I needed.

Happy.

She hadn’t said, Move on. she hadn’t suggested to forget, just… that I was allowed to be happy.

It was barely two weeks. Thirteen days since everything took place.

Was I? Was I allowed?

I was the only one here… I hadn’t even been strong enough to look at the bodies when we were there… Did I even deserve to be happy? To Survive?

Loss wasn’t foreign to me—I had died before, after all. I had lost an entire family… an entire life.

I had mourned it after I remembered, but I had continued. This time I wasn’t the one that had died; I was the one alive after.

A silence settled between us, not uncomfortable — just full. Then she reached across the low table, placing a small folded paper between us. She spread it and activated the seal on it.

I can see it was a privacy seal. One designed so no one outside can listen in.

“Now, time for us to start on that seal on your back.”

 

Chapter 9: Shinbunko

Notes:

I know it's been longer this time, but I ended up losing internet for close to three weeks, add having to work overtime, and even now the internet is barely up. I am very sorry and I hope you enjoy this chapter coming so late. a little longer this time to make up for it.

The seal on my back was a mystery to me; I barely remember the seal I saw on the ground that day before it was placed on me. I only knew it was used to store every piece of knowledge the Uzumaki had gathered over the centuries.

How was it made? I didn’t know.

How did it store it? I didn’t know.

It could go all the way from a storage seal to even more…

So, when Mito-sama was about to start the lesson, she had my full attention.

I sat straighter, breath quiet, heart steady. For once, I wasn’t afraid of what I didn’t know.

I was eager to learn.

“It’s called Shinbunko,” Mito-sama said as she unrolled a scroll and began writing in clean, deliberate strokes. The kanji stood out clearly on the page: Mind Archive.

“The seal was designed to be more than just a storage seal,” she continued. “It’s… well, how much do you know about mind palaces? The concept of the mental self? Or sealing techniques that interact with consciousness?”

“Uhh…nothing…” I admitted, already feeling lost. My brows furrowed as I tried to keep up, but Mito-sama merely nodded, not looking the least bit surprised.

“I expected as much,” she said calmly. “These are very advanced topics, and not even many among the Uzumaki delve into them.”

She unrolled several scrolls, each filled with diagrams and kanji about spirit, mind, and sealing techniques connected to consciousness.

“Alright,” she said, “we’ll start with a quick summary of Shinbunko and then go over each concept. Shinbunko—like I said before—isn’t a usual storage seal. It creates a mind palace—a space—you can visit in your mind that will now hold all the information that was stored into it initially. Think of it as a library in your mind.”

I nodded along as I tried to build a picture of what she was saying in my mind, to visualize it and store the information away.

“Now, mind palaces or spaces are like locations in your mind,” she started explaining. “It takes years of training to actually form an actual functioning one, or months to even have a start on using it. It’s usually a familiar location or environment.

People use them for memory and information recollection…or at least that was the initial use.”

She took a breath, and I used the chance to memorize all of that.

“People, as usual, expanded on that.” She continued, “You have clans like the Yamanaka that can force access to those spaces to get information from enemies, even if said enemies didn’t form one naturally.

Uzumaki were no different, of course. A chakra is, after all, one part mental energy and one part physical energy. Research into sealing part of mental energy or using mental spaces in sealing started. That’s where the mental sealing came into existence.”

“So, they started forming mental palaces using seals?” I asked, and she nodded.

“It was a convenient space,” she explained. “And Space-time seal masters wanted to branch out. Can you think of uses for such spaces? Or why even?”

I nod as I think it over. “Security for one, there are few clans or people capable of forcing open your mind, and…probably,” I hesitate, “sealing sentient minds into another living human.”

Her eyes twinkled like she expected me to come to that conclusion. “Indeed. I figured you knew, with your ability to sense chakra. But indeed, tailed beasts as semi-sentient beings fall into that category,” she confirmed. “The seals used on Jinchūriki followed the concepts from Mental Sealing.”

It made sense; Naruto could talk with Kurama in a mental space. He later met the rest of the tailed beasts in the same way.

“Of course,” Mito continued. “That also includes sealing parts of a human’s chakra into another human.”

I made again the link to when Minato and Kushina met Naruto through his seal. Another thought came to mind, though.

“Is it…possible for the sealed chakra to take over the host body?” I ask as I think it over.

Mito’s eyes twinkled. “Now, you’re thinking through… The reason research first started into this branch was in attempts to reach immortality. It was, of course, stopped after it… ventured into unsavory areas.”

And there it was; I had formed the association when I heard it. The cursed seal wasn’t invented by Orochimaru yet, but it matched a little the idea. Sealing a part of oneself into others.

“Chakra—as you probably know—is a mix of mental and physical energies,” she explained. I nodded along. “Physical energy comes from training your body and your stamina. Mental energy is more… Abstract. It comes from intelligence and also your soul. Mixing those two gives us chakra. Of course, not everyone has those in equal ratios, but that’s a topic for another time.”

She continued after.

“The sealing of the mental energy was how this branch started. A representation of the soul, a mental self. At the same time, it made seals that manipulated that energy to form mental spaces without the usual training needed.” She explained, “Now, any questions so far?” I shook my head.

“Good. For our lessons, we’ll focus on accessing and utilizing your seal so you can get access to the space with all the knowledge. As for mental seals, that’s a topic I will cover with both you and Kushina during our regular lessons.”

I was going to learn to get access to my version of a tailed beast. Just thankfully mine doesn’t have sentience.

“How do we begin?” I asked, determined. I couldn’t afford to fall behind again. I’d failed Uzushio. I knew more was coming, and I refused to be useless the next time.

“Meditation, for one, will rely completely on mastering your Yin Chakra and mental energy.” Mito smiled. “This should be easy, given you already have more mental energy than physical.”

Of course. She knew. Just like Satoshi-sensei had known.

I met her eyes and nodded once. She didn’t need to say it outright; I understood what she meant. I was a reincarnate.

“That was another topic that came up with Mental Sealing,” she explained. “People were trying to explain why it happened; you never have to talk about it unless you want to.”

I nodded again, silently grateful.

“So…meditation?” I focused back on training.

“Now,” she said briskly, “let’s begin. Sit comfortably. Your goal is to tune into your chakra, specifically your Yin chakra. Have you trained in genjutsu?”

I winced. “I can release them…”

She chuckled. “That’s perfectly fine. This training will not only help with genjutsu but also with medical ninjutsu, since it teaches you how to separate your chakra into Yin and Yang.”

I settled into a cross-legged position.

“Slow your breathing,” she instructed. “Focus inward. Ignore the chakra of the world outside.”

Meditation wasn’t something foreign; it had been a part of training my chakra sensing—minus the cold water. It was easy to do what she said; I counted each breath in sets of eight, steady and deliberate.

In. One, two, three, four...

Out. Five, six, seven, eight…

I focused on my chakra as it moved through my body, like a slow, pulsing river of heat and light.

Chakra, unlike how the anime had portrayed it, wasn’t always blue. It shimmered in color, different for each person. It wasn’t just visible when I sensed others; it appeared even when someone manifested their own.
Mine was a distinct, radiant purple.

My mom used to say it reminded her of the flower I was named after.

“Good,” Mito said softly. “I can feel your chakra flow matching your breath. Now... try to separate it. Focus on the part connected to your mind, not your body.”

In… one, two, three, four…
Out… five, six, seven, eight…

I reached inward again.

Yin and Yang chakra. Satoshi-sensei had explained them in broad strokes during our genjutsu lessons. Yin was mental: imagination, thought, and spirit. Yang was physical: vitality, strength, and life force. But we’d never gone deeper than that.

He wasn’t a genjutsu master or a medical-nin. Even sensing them as separate entities had been beyond our scope.

So, I searched. Felt.

Peeled away the warmth of the river flowing inside me, trying to distinguish the threads of myself, the parts born from mind instead of muscle.

And it blew in my face.

Not literally, but it felt like it.

One moment, everything was still. Balanced.

The next, something flared in the center of my mind—like someone had lit a firework behind my eyes.

It wasn’t light exactly. Not one I could see with my eyes open. But inside, it was blinding.

A rush of sharp pressure bloomed at the base of my skull, then spiked behind my temples. My breath faltered as the pounding started, like my own chakra had knocked on the walls of my mind too hard, and now it was echoing.

A headache. Of course.

I could hear the amusement in Mito’s voice as she spoke.

“Easy.” She tried to hide it. “Separating chakra goes against all of the basics shinobi are trained for; it will take time.”

A warning would have been nice. I thought grimly as I rubbed my temples.

She hummed, then continued. “Still, you made contact. That’s farther than most on their first attempt. You just… barged in like an Uzumaki.”

“I didn’t know there was a front door,” I muttered.

“Exactly. And instead of knocking, you headbutted the wall.”

I snorted despite myself. The pain was fading now, leaving behind a faint echo.

“Let’s try again,” Mito said gently. “Slower this time. Approach it like you would a skittish animal, not a locked room.”

I nodded and got into it again. This was going to be a long training.

><><><><><><><><><>< 

The training took forever, with little progress. We kept at it for about two hours until Mito-sama finally called it for the day. By the end, I was left with a dull, persistent headache that pulsed behind my eyes like a second heartbeat.

We made our way to the dining room in silence.

It was a serene space, the kind that demanded quiet just by existing. Tatami mats softened our steps, and the paper shoji screens bathed the room in a warm, gentle light. The low wooden table sat at the center like a quiet anchor, surrounded by neatly arranged zabuton cushions.

I sank onto one, grateful to be sitting. My limbs were heavy. My head is heavier.

Tsunade wasn’t here yet. Kushina was.

She gave me a sideways glance but said nothing. I returned the favor.

Not that I cared. My head was still recovering, my thoughts foggy from chakra strain and mental overuse. Even the savory aroma drifting in from the kitchen didn’t stir much interest in me. I just sat, spine loose, jaw tight, eyes half-lidded, as I let the quiet of the room soak into me.

Amariko came in with practiced ease, placing each dish with quiet precision. Miso soup, grilled fish, pickled vegetables, and a small bowl of rice. The comforting smells mingled with the warm air.

We ate quietly, the only real sound the faint clink of chopsticks—mostly from me and Kushina. Mito-sama was graceful and elegant in the way only someone raised with discipline and expectation could be. She barely made a sound. Eventually, she set her bowl down with a soft tap , dabbed her lips with a cloth, and rose. “Good night, Kikyō-chan, Kushina-chan,” she said.

And then it was just Kushina and me.

She didn’t say anything.

Neither did I.

I was too exhausted to be the bigger person, especially when she was technically a decade older than me. I didn’t have the energy for tension, not after meditating myself into a headache.

She kept eating, eyes on her bowl, her jaw tight with something unspoken. Maybe resentment. Maybe regret. I couldn’t tell, and I didn’t care enough to pry. Not tonight.

My chopsticks paused halfway to my mouth. I chewed slowly, methodically, more for the sake of routine than hunger. The rice was good, fluffy, and warm. The fish had a crisp edge. But everything tasted distant, like it was happening to someone else.

Still, we sat there, side by side, the silence between us growing heavier with each bite.

 

I didn’t expect her to talk.

Which is why it startled me when she did.

“…Your chakra’s purple,” Kushina said quietly, almost like it was an afterthought. Her voice wasn’t sharp like usual. Just… tired.

I glanced up, unsure how to respond. “Yeah… I didn’t know you were a sensor.”

She shrugged and just poked the rice with her chopsticks. “I am…not as good as Mito-sama.”

I swallowed, debating how to reply. “Yours is red… and it’s very warm.”

Kushina blinked, as if surprised I’d noticed. Then she huffed, not annoyed, not angry, more like she didn’t know what to do with the compliment. “Well, duh. I’m hot-blooded.” She forced a smirk, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes.

“Yeah…” I murmured. “It’s not just heat though. It feels like… like sunlight.” I didn’t know why I said that. Maybe because it was true. Maybe because I was too tired to keep everything locked down.

She went still.

Then, quietly, “That’s what she used to say too.”

I didn’t need to ask who "she" was. Mito-sama, of course.

Neither of us said anything for a moment. The air between us shifted, no longer heavy with tension, just fragile.

I swallowed hard and put my chopsticks down. “I didn’t…mean to take that from you.”

She sighed and shook her head. “No, that was… it’s not your fault,” she muttered. “You lost people. Just like I did.”

“We did…but you…” I swallow. I wasn’t supposed to know she was the future jinchūriki. She had been taken from her home. Our home. Long before we lost it. At least, I had been with them till the end.

Kushina’s lips pressed into a thin line. Her chopsticks stilled. Her gaze didn’t rise to meet mine, but I could feel the shift in her posture.

“I don’t even remember their faces anymore,” she admitted, voice low. “I try, sometimes. But all I get are colors. Voices. Heat. Laughter. Gone before I could hold onto any of it.”

That hit deep.

“I remember everything,” I said, just as quietly. “And I’d give anything to forget.”

We sat in the silence that followed, not hostile this time, just raw. Real. Two pieces of something shattered, different shapes of the same grief.

“You’re not taking anything from me,” she said at last. “I just… I was scared you were.”

“I was scared you hated me,” I confessed, letting the truth slip.

She huffed again, but this time it was softer. “You’re annoying. But hate? No. That takes too much energy.”

I gave her a crooked smile. “Lucky me.”

Kushina rolled her eyes, but she didn’t look away. “For what it’s worth… you’re not the only one who feels like she’s pretending to belong here.”

That landed somewhere in my chest, warm and painful all at once.

“We’re both just… trying, huh?”

“Trying and eating rice,” she said with a shrug, and picked up her chopsticks again. “One’s harder than the other.”

We both snorted at that. And then, for the first time since I’d arrived in Konoha, the silence between us felt… okay.

Not perfect. Not fixed.

But okay.

The next day started the same as the day before: breakfast—but without Tsunade—followed by a sealing lesson. We continued on the lesson from the day before. Both of us are doing much better.

Then the hour came when Kushina was called for her private lesson. Mito gave me a quiet nod and a rare smile before they disappeared deeper into the house.

I was left alone.

Free time, she said.

Time to do what I wanted.

And that was the problem; I wasn’t sure what that even meant anymore.

Before, my day was always occupied with training with Satoshi-sensei, lessons with Mom, helping around the house, talking with Dad, or retreating to my room to read a book.

Now, I was free to do what I wanted, but nothing felt worth doing. I could go on another ‘Explore Konoha’ walk like yesterday.

I was still wondering when Tsunade came into the room. “Hey kiddo. Come on, you’re coming with me.”

She didn’t wait for me and started walking. I scrambled getting up and following her. “Where are we going? You’re not making me new friends again, are you?” I asked as I caught up to her.

She snorted. “No, kiddo. We’re going to the hospital to finish your paperwork,” she explained as we left the house and walked through the streets. “I had immigration send the paperwork to my office, and also we can do your physical and mental checkups for academy applications.”

My eyebrows furrowed; everything she said was fine except…for the mental checkup.

“Mental?” I questioned

“It’s mandatory; all the kids have to go through it during their application. It’s better to know what to expect from applicants.”

Tsunade glanced at me from the corner of her eye, as if gauging how I’d take it. “It’s not an interrogation,” she added, “just a one-on-one talk with a professional. They ask a few questions and make sure you’re not harboring bloodlust or undiagnosed trauma that might explode during shuriken practice.”

I looked ahead, swallowing thickly.

Too late for that, I thought grimly.

“I’m fine,” I muttered. “You don’t need to worry.”

“Mm,” she replied noncommittally, like she didn’t believe me but also wasn’t going to push. “Still mandatory.”

I realized now, no one so far had asked me what happened in Uzushio. Not in details, not in general. It was…weird? I mean, for a shinobi village, wouldn’t they want an account of what happened?

Guess this was probably the time for them to ask those questions.

Tsunade was quiet as we walked, while I was busy with my thoughts.

No one had asked.

Not Mito-sama. Not Tsunade. Not Kushina. Not even the Hokage.

Were they just being careful with the possibly fragile, traumatized four-year-old? Or was it something else?

I had no way to know… I had been here for barely a few days now. I barely knew those people or how they thought. Thinking about it, it was scary how quick everything changed.

“Kid?” Tsunade asked, snapping me out of my thoughts, and I realized that we had reached the hospital.

“Yeah?”

She crossed her arms, and she gave a look before turning. “Come on, my office is this way.”

I followed through the hallways; the nurses and medics bowed in respect as she passed, some greeting her, and she would greet them back. A few gave me curious looks before they continued on; some went to whispering with the person next to them instead.

Tsunade’s office was very large; it had a few bookshelves covering the walls, full of medical textbooks and a few scrolls; there was a shelf with some sake bottles—and maybe medicine?—and then a couch in the middle with a desk at the back.

The room smelled faintly of antiseptic and paper, with a sharper undertone of ink that reminded me of home.

Tsunade gestured toward the couch. “Sit. I’ll get your file, and we’ll start filling it out.”

I did as told, legs swinging a little off the edge. The couch was soft, but the quiet hum of chakra from the building around me made it hard to relax. Hospitals always felt too loud in a way no one else seemed to notice.

Too many people, too many emotions.

Tsunade rummaged through the files on her desk, muttering a few things before finally pulling a file out, flicking it open, scanning it, and then looking at me.

“Name, clan, age, birthday. For the record.”

“Kikyō Uzumaki, four years old, 19th of August,” I replied automatically.

She hummed, marking it down.

“Alright, first is the physical checkup,” she said, rolling up her sleeves. “Standard. Height, weight, chakra network, any injuries.”

I nodded.

“Good.” She clapped her hands. “Let’s get this over with. Shirt off, stand here.”

I slipped off my top layer, standing in the middle of the room as she moved around me, poking, prodding, checking the alignment of my spine, and measuring my arms and legs. Her chakra was precise as it flowed over me, examining my network.

“A little underweight, you need to eat more.” She noted, almost disapproving. “You’ve got strong coils, a little overactive, but that’s typical Uzumaki.”

I didn’t reply, focusing on the floor pattern beneath my feet.

When she was done, she stepped back, scribbling notes, while I dressed again. “Alright. No injuries, a little malnutrition, a stable chakra network, and healthy coils. I am marking you down as a Ninjutsu type initially given your chakra levels and physical,” she said, tapping the file. “Now, I won’t be the one doing the psych eval. That’s not my specialty, but I am handing you off to someone I trust.”

“Who?” I asked, trying to keep my voice steady.

Tsunade closed the file with a soft thunk , looking at me with her sharp brown eyes. “Inoshige Yamanaka. He’s the head of his clan and specializes in mental health assessments and mind arts.”

Of course. Yamanaka. It made sense, but it didn’t stop the cold knot in my chest.

Seeing my expression, Tsunade sighed, rubbing the bridge of her nose. “Kikyō, it’s just routine. You’re applying to the Academy, and it’s standard for all shinobi candidates. He’s not going to pry into things unless you want him to.”

I swallowed, glancing away. “Okay.”

She studied me for a moment longer, her chakra brushing against mine like a warm hand on the shoulder, grounding. “It’s your choice how much you tell him, but… it might help, kid.”

I didn’t respond.

She let out another sigh, softer this time, and gestured toward the door. “Come on, he’s waiting.”

We left her office, walking down quieter halls now, the scent of antiseptic and warm herbs mixing as we passed different wings. Nurses and medics still greeted her, but she didn’t stop, her stride long and sure, a steady presence I clung to for grounding.

Eventually, we stopped in front of a plain door with a small plaque: Inoshige Yamanaka, Psychological Services .

Tsunade knocked once before opening it, ushering me in.

“Hey, Inoshige,” she greeted as she stepped in after me.

The man sitting behind the low desk looked up with a calm, welcoming expression. He looked to be in his thirties, tall even while seated, with the distinct Yamanaka features: long pale-blond hair tied back in a neat ponytail, sharp cheekbones, and those striking pupil-less green eyes—well, eye .

A scar, jagged and pale against his skin, cut across his left eye, leaving it milky white and clearly blind. It didn’t seem to bother him, though; the remaining eye was sharp, steady, and watchful, the kind that seemed to see more than what was in front of it.

He wore a dark blue kimono layered with a cream vest, simple but clean, giving off the quiet professionalism that made the room feel calmer somehow.

When he smiled, it was a small, easy curve of his mouth that didn’t feel forced, even if it didn’t quite reach the scarred side of his face.

His chakra was blue, soft, and calm, like a summer breeze drifting through the room. But beneath that softness, there was something else—focused, controlled, sharp. It felt like the quiet before a storm or the stillness of a blade held steady before it struck.

I found myself instinctively straightening under that calm weight, the way I did around Mito-sama, except this was different. Her chakra was warmth and strength; his was quiet precision, like he could peel you apart without you even noticing.

He didn’t say anything at first, just studied me with that single sharp eye, the calm of his chakra matching the small, polite smile on his face.

“Hello Tsunade-hime,” he greeted her, but his eye stayed on me, “and you must be Kikyō-chan.”

I nodded, bowing politely. “Kikyō Uzumaki, Inoshige-san.”

A small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Welcome to Konoha.” His voice was smooth and quiet, carrying that same breeze-like calm as his chakra.

“Thanks,” I murmured, unsure what else to say.

Tsunade clapped a hand on my shoulder, making me jolt slightly. “She’s all yours for the eval. Be nice, Inoshige.” She dropped the file on his desk.

“I’m always nice,” he replied mildly, raising an eyebrow at her before turning back to me. “Come on, Kikyō-chan. Let’s get started.”

Tsunade left, and Inoshige gestured for me to sit down across from him at the desk. “Have a seat.”

I took the chair across from his desk, hands folded in my lap. His chakra felt steady in the air, like it was watching me without pressing in.

He studied me for a moment before pulling out a file and opening it with practiced ease. “This isn’t an interrogation, Kikyō-chan. We’re just going to talk, alright?”

I nodded, silent.

He gave a small, understanding hum, flipping through a few pages before meeting my eyes again. “We’ll start simple. How are you sleeping?”

“Okay, I guess…” I replied slowly.

His single green eye watched me, unblinking. “Nightmares?”

I hesitated, fingers curling in my lap. “…Surprisingly, no.”

Inoshige’s eyebrow lifted slightly, but he didn’t look surprised, only thoughtful. “That’s not uncommon,” he said gently. “Sometimes the mind is too tired for dreams. Or it keeps them away until it feels safe enough to let them surface.”

I didn’t know if that made me feel better or worse.

His gaze softened, the scar over his blind eye pulling slightly as he tilted his head. “Do you get scared when you’re awake?”

I blinked, staring at the floor for a moment before looking back at him. “No… I don’t think so. Not really.”

Another soft hum as he noted something down. “What about sadness?”

That one was harder.

“…I don’t know,” I admitted, voice quiet. “Sometimes, it feels like there’s something heavy in my chest, but… It doesn’t come out. It just… sits there.”

Inoshige nodded, patient, like he had heard this a hundred times before. “That’s grief, Kikyō-chan. It doesn’t always look like crying.”

I didn’t say anything, just stared at my hands in my lap.

“It’s not wrong to feel it,” he continued, his voice calm, steady like the breeze of his chakra. “And it’s not wrong to feel okay sometimes, either.”

I swallowed, throat tight, but managed a small nod.

“…but it’s only been…two weeks; I shouldn’t be moving on so fast.”

My voice sounded small, like I was trying to convince myself more than him.

Inoshige was quiet for a moment, the soft scratch of his pen pausing before he set it down, folding his hands on top of the folder.

“Kikyō-chan,” he said, voice low and even, “grief doesn’t follow a clock. It doesn’t have a schedule.”

His single green eye met mine, steady and clear. “You’re not moving on. You’re surviving. And that’s exactly what you’re supposed to do.”

I looked down, fingers picking at the hem of my sleeve. The heavy feeling in my chest didn’t leave, but it shifted, just a little, like it was making space for something else.

“And,” he continued, softer now, “it’s alright to feel okay, even if it’s only sometimes. It doesn’t mean you’ve forgotten them.”

The silence that followed wasn’t heavy or uncomfortable, just… there.

“…okay,” I whispered.

“Do you want to talk about what happened that day?” He asked.

I stayed quiet.

 It had been just another day…or it had started that way.

The memory pressed at the edges of my mind, sharp and heavy, but I let it come, piece by piece.

“It was cloudy,” I said finally, my voice barely above a breath. “But that wasn’t unusual for that time of year. Dad made breakfast that morning. He’d been doing that since we found out Mom was…”

My voice caught, a sharp ache tightening my chest. I swallowed, forcing it down, steadying my breath.

“…was pregnant,” I managed. “She was three months along.”

The room felt too quiet, the weight of the words hanging heavy in the air. Inoshige didn’t interrupt, his gaze steady and calm, letting me speak at my own pace.

I looked down at my hands. “She was so happy. They both were. It was going to be a boy. Dad wanted to name him Arata.”

I breathed in, then out.

“After breakfast, I went to train with Satoshi-sensei at the beach. We were working on the summoning jutsu. I was so excited to get it right…”

My fingers curled in my lap.

“Then… there was an explosion.”

The word fell heavy in the room, like the first blast that shook the ground under my feet.

“Satoshi-sensei yelled at me to snap out of it, and I… I don’t know how, but I did. My chains came out before I even realized it. grabbing one of the enemies.”

I swallowed hard, remembering the smoke, the screams, and the burn of chakra in the air.

“He threw smoke bombs; we could still sense them. I could feel the one I caught… I pulled, and it—”

I pressed my lips together, breathing through the sting in my eyes.

“I killed them. I didn’t even think. I just… I didn’t want to die.”

I could still feel it, the way the chakra disappeared, like a light going out.

“We kept fighting. Then we ran, back toward the village. There were explosions, people screaming, buildings on fire…”

My voice shook. “I tried to find Mom and Dad with my chakra sensing. It was… so bright, so loud in my head. Everything was chaos.”

My shoulders hunched, like I could fold into myself and hide from the memory.

“I found them. They were alive. Mom was moving toward the shelters. Dad was fighting. But I couldn’t go to them. Sensei said there was no time, and we went to the library.”

I paused, clutching the fabric of my clothes.

“I didn’t want to leave them. But I listened. Because… because that’s what shinobi do.”

Silence settled, thick and heavy.

“I didn’t want to die,” I whispered again, softer. “And I didn’t want them to die either.”

And then it hit me—like cold water down my spine.

“I… I killed,” I breathed, my eyes widening as the memory snapped fully into focus, clear and sharp and awful. “I killed someone that day.”

My breath caught, a sharp, painful hiccup in my chest.

“How… how hadn’t I remembered that until now?” My voice was small, breaking around the edges. “I… I didn’t even think. I just… did it.”

The image was there, behind my eyelids. The smoke. The shouting. The tug of the chain. The way their chakra just vanished.

And the worst part was that part of me had felt relieved .

Relieved that it wasn’t me.

I pressed my hands over my eyes, squeezing them shut.

“I didn’t want to,” I whispered. “I didn’t want to, but I… I didn’t want to die either.”

Inoshige was quiet for a moment, his chakra as calm as his voice when he finally spoke.

“You did what you had to do,” he said softly. “You survived.”

His words were simple, but they didn’t sound like judgment or praise. Just a fact.

“That doesn’t make it easy,” he continued, his gaze steady on mine. “It doesn’t mean it won’t hurt, or that you’ll stop thinking about it. But it was war, Kikyō-chan. You were in danger, and you acted to protect yourself.”

I stared at my hands, my fingers curling and uncurling.

“But I’m just a kid…” I mumbled, the words tasting bitter in my mouth.

“Yes,” Inoshige agreed quietly. “You are. And it should never have been something you had to do.”

He let the silence settle, letting me breathe, letting the tears well up without pushing them away.

“But you did survive,” he said again, gentle but firm, like he was anchoring me. “And you’re here now. That’s what your parents would have wanted, Kikyō-chan.”

My throat tightened, and I pressed my lips together, swallowing hard.

I didn’t know if it made it better. It still hurt—the memory, the guilt, the fear.

I was training to be a shinobi; I knew I was going to have to kill eventually.

But it had happened before I had even become one.

“I thought… I thought I’d be ready when it happened,” I whispered, voice shaking. “That it would mean I was protecting people, that it would be… heroic, or something.”

My hands clenched tighter.

“But it wasn’t like that. It was just… messy. Fast. And then they were gone.”

Inoshige’s gaze softened, a deep, quiet understanding in his single green eye.

“It almost never is,” he said softly. “Even for adults, even for experienced shinobi. It’s never clean, or easy, or heroic, Kikyō-chan.”

He leaned forward slightly, resting his forearms on his knees.

“But it doesn’t mean you’re a bad person. It doesn’t mean you’re broken.”

I drew in a slow, shaky breath, letting it out just as slowly.

It still hurt. It would probably hurt for a long time.

“Can we talk about something else?” I asked, wanting to stop thinking about it, about the screams and the blood, about the way the chakra had vanished from that person when the chain struck.

Inoshige didn’t push and didn’t try to keep me on the topic. He simply nodded, closing the file in his lap gently.

“Of course,” he said. “Do you want to talk about your training? Or maybe about something you like to do when you’re not training?”

I blinked, a little surprised, but grateful. I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding, my shoulders loosening a little.

“I… I like reading,” I said softly, almost unsure, as if it was something that didn’t matter after everything else.

His mouth quirked into a small smile. “Reading, huh? What kind of books?”

“Stories were nice,” I said, a small, tired smile tugging at my lips. “I like the ones about myths and legends. I also liked reading Fūinjutsu scrolls.”

Inoshige raised an eyebrow, his lone green eye brightening with mild amusement. “Ah, a true Uzumaki,” he said, a gentle teasing in his tone. “Myths, legends, and Fūinjutsu. Quite the combination.”

I nodded. “They were… very exciting. To dream of things that weren’t in this world.”

Whether this world or my last, fantasy existed. Legends of yōkai, of princes and princesses, of warriors and gods. Things that were similar enough to feel real but different enough to be exciting.

Inoshige’s expression softened, a hint of warmth in the calm blue of his chakra. “Escaping into stories is something even adults do, you know,” he said gently.

“Maybe,” I murmured, “but I liked them better when they ended happy.”

He hummed, glancing down at his clipboard, flipping a page. “Don’t we all?”

“Well.” He wrote a few notes in the file, then closed it with a soft snap . “It has been a pleasure meeting you, Kikyō-chan.”

I nodded, sliding off the chair as he stood. My legs felt a little unsteady, like I had run a long distance without moving at all.

“Thank you,” I said, voice small but steady.

His calm, single eye met mine, and he gave a gentle nod. “You’re doing well, you know. It doesn’t feel like it, but you are.”

I didn’t know what to say to that, so I just bowed politely.

Tsunade was waiting outside, arms crossed, pretending she hadn’t been leaning close to the door. She gave Inoshige a nod before glancing down at me.

“Done?” she asked.

I nodded.

“Alright, kiddo. Let’s go home.”

And that was that.

><><><><><><><><><>< 

Tsunade’s Interlude

It was later that night that she sat on the engawa at the back of the house, a sake bottle in her hand as she drank. A couple of bottles are already empty beside her, and a couple more are still full.

The garden was quiet, the moonlight turning the gravel and stepping stones pale silver. A soft breeze rustled the leaves, carrying the faint scent of summer grass.

She tilted the bottle, letting the liquid burn its way down. It wasn’t enough to drown out the memories, but it was enough to dull the edges.

“Drinking again, Tsuna?”

She barely turned to look as the older woman lowered herself carefully onto the engawa beside her. Mito moved with the deliberate care of age and pain, but her presence was as steady as ever.

Tsunade snorted, swirling the sake in her bottle. “Always.”

Mito didn’t comment, her gaze drifting toward the moonlit garden, the faint rustle of wind in the trees filling the silence between them.

They sat like that for a while, the world quiet, the scent of grass and the faint perfume of Mito’s robes grounding Tsunade more than the alcohol could.

“I finished the immigration papers,” Tsunade said, taking another swig of her bottle, “and she passed both the physical and psych. She’ll still have to take the academy assessment, but that thing is a joke.”

“As expected.” Mito replied.

“Sensei also said they’ll hold a ceremony for the Uzumaki clan at the end of the week,” she informed her. “It’s a way to respect the loss of the clan, and they’re changing the village vest to include the Uzumaki clan symbol, a way to honor them from now on.”

Mito closed her eyes for a moment, the lines around them deepening. “A small kindness,” she murmured. “And a necessary one.”

Tsunade’s fingers tightened around the neck of the bottle. “It’s not enough.”

“No,” Mito agreed softly. “But it is something.”

The breeze stirred again, brushing against them, carrying the faint scent of the earth cooling under the night air. Somewhere in the distance, a nightingale called, its song clear in the quiet.

“You know, Tsunade, I hate to ask this of you, but,” Mito started, “you know my days in this world are limited. Eventually I will have to pass the nine-tails to Kushina.”

Tsunade took another swig, letting the burn settle before she replied. “You say that like it’s just another errand to run.”

Mito hummed, looking up at the moon. “Perhaps it is. Or perhaps it’s the last duty I have left.”

Tsunade’s jaw tightened, her grip on the bottle whitening her knuckles.

“You have lost much, my dear girl,” Mito said softly, reaching out to pat her head. The gesture was light, but it landed heavy on Tsunade’s shoulders.

“I know you hurt. But being a shinobi is about enduring.”

Tsunade swallowed hard, the words scraping against old wounds.

“Hashirama’s dream never came to fruition, sadly,” Mito continued, eyes distant, looking somewhere Tsunade could not follow. “Children still fight. They still die. But at least now… we have connections beyond family to keep us grounded.”

Tsunade let out a slow breath, lowering the bottle to her lap. “It’s not enough.”

“No,” Mito agreed quietly, “it never is.”

The cicadas hummed around them, the night pressing close, warm and heavy.

“But it’s what we have,” Mito finished, her hand dropping from Tsunade’s hair to rest gently on her shoulder, steady and warm.

Tsunade closed her eyes, letting the weight of the promise she had just made settle into her bones.

They sat in silence, letting the night hold them, letting themselves grieve in the quiet, together.

“Both girls will be asked to move out of here and into the Uzumaki mansion when I’m gone,” Mito continued, her voice steady, as if she were discussing the weather. “Kushina is already a genin, and she has her friends, her team. She’ll find her way.”

She paused, her eyes softening as she looked at Tsunade.

“Kikyō, though… She will need someone to guide her.”

Tsunade’s fingers tightened around the neck of the bottle again, but she didn’t interrupt.

“I would like for you to do that,” Mito finished gently. “She’s young, Tsunade. She needs someone who understands the weight she carries, someone who can teach her how to live with it.”

Tsunade closed her eyes, the request sinking in, heavy and inevitable. Another responsibility. Another promise to keep. Another person she would have to protect in a world that devoured those she loved.

She let out a slow breath, her shoulders dropping as she looked up at the moon.

“I know it’s a lot to ask of you, Tsuna.” Mito’s gaze followed hers, the pale light etching her features in quiet strength. “You have lost many. But that’s the risk that comes with love.”

She folded her hands in her lap, her voice steady and calm.

“The more we love, the more we open ourselves to hurt. That is true,” she said. “And you, my girl, you care beyond many. That is not a weakness, Tsunade. It is your strength.”

Tsunade’s throat tightened, a bitter laugh caught somewhere in her chest. “Doesn’t feel like it.”

Mito’s hand reached over, resting lightly on hers. “I know. But it is. Love gives you the will to stand back up, even when it hurts. Even when you’re tired. It is what has kept me going all these years, even with the weight I carry.”

The wind stirred again, cool against their skin, brushing through the garden.

“Take it from your old granny,” Mito added, her voice warm with soft amusement, “it’s better to have loved and lost than to have never loved at all.”

Tsunade swallowed, blinking back the heat in her eyes. She turned her gaze back to the moon, its pale light reflecting in her amber eyes.

“I’ll try to remember that,” she whispered, voice rough.

Mito gave her hand a gentle squeeze before letting go, folding her hands back into her lap as she, too, turned her gaze upward.

They sat together, in silence, letting the breeze rustle the leaves and the cicadas hum softly, the quiet a promise that even in the weight of grief, they would carry forward.

Chapter 10: Uzumaki Legacy

Notes:

So I might have gotten a little excited and wrote this over the weekend. Hope you like it and let me know what you think. Also we reached 50k words!!!

At breakfast, we were informed about the Hokage’s plans. A ceremony—a funeral, really—would be held for the Uzumaki clan. A way for the village to mourn, to acknowledge the loss of a people who had been allies for generations.

They also planned to add the Uzumaki clan symbol to the back of the Konoha flak jackets from now on, the red spiral. A way to honor the clan, they said.

Kushina had gone quiet, staring down at her rice, chopsticks stilling in her hand. I couldn’t read her face, not really, but the silence spoke enough. I didn’t say anything either, just chewed slowly, the taste of miso suddenly bland on my tongue.

Honor was nice, I guessed. But it didn’t change anything.

They were still gone.

“It will be at the end of the week,” Tsunade continued, her tone carefully even as she sipped her tea. “Sensei thought it would be better coming from me than him.”

I swallowed, forcing the rice down, the warmth of it sitting heavy in my stomach.

Kushina’s chopsticks moved again, picking at her food, but she didn’t look up. “Tch. They should’ve done it sooner,” she muttered, so low it was almost lost under the sound of the wind outside.

Tsunade didn’t argue, just set her cup down quietly. “Maybe. But it’s happening now.”

“Another news,” Mito’s voice cut through the silence, calm but firm. “You’re going to have your Academy exam today, Kikyō-chan.”

I choked on my rice, coughing so hard my eyes watered, the taste of miso and tea mixing unpleasantly on my tongue. Tsunade reached over, thumping my back with a little too much force.

“W-What?” I croaked, wiping my mouth with my sleeve.

Kushina snorted, the corner of her mouth twitching, but she still didn’t look up fully.

Mito’s eyes softened, but her tone didn’t waver. “You will need to attend the testing to place you into the Academy. It is only a formality, but it is necessary.”

“A…formality,” I echoed, stomach dropping. “Today?”

“Today.” Tsunade confirmed, leaning back with her cup of tea. “Relax, kid. It’s not a big deal. Just chakra control, basic taijutsu drills, and a written test to see where you stand.”

I stared at them, blinking. Chakra control? Taijutsu? Written test? All on the same day?

“And I couldn’t know about this yesterday?!” I asked, feeling anxiety rising; my stomach was turning, and I could feel sweat forming.

Tsunade snorted. “Come on, kiddo, you should be glad everything is expedited. The academy year starts in less than two weeks after all.”

The logical part of my brain understood. They were trying to finalize everything before the actual academy year started. It made sense.

But the other part of me was panicking.

I hated exams. Previous life, current life. I hated exams.

“Can’t I at least have a day to prepare?” I tried, voice tight, fingers curling around my chopsticks.

Mito raised an eyebrow. “Prepare? You have already been preparing your entire life, Kikyō-chan.”

“That’s not the same—” I protested, but my voice cracked.

Tsunade sighed, leaning her cheek on her hand as she watched me. “Kid, you’ll do fine. Honestly, with your chakra reserves alone, they’ll probably pass you without blinking.”

That wasn’t reassuring. That was worse. Even without doing anything, I already stood out.

I lowered my head, staring at the faint swirl of my reflection in the miso soup. My stomach was twisting itself into knots.

“Relax, dattebane, it’s just a test,” Kushina assured me, making Mito chuckle.

“I remember you panicking before every exam though, Kushina-chan.”

Kushina’s cheeks puffed out, a faint pink dusting them as she huffed, looking away. “That’s different! Those tests were dumb anyway.”

Mito’s chuckle turned into a soft, warm laugh. “All tests feel ‘dumb’ until you pass them, child.”

Kushina grumbled under her breath, poking aggressively at her rice.

I couldn’t help it; I let out a small, strangled laugh, the tension in my shoulders easing just a little. The knots in my stomach didn’t disappear, but they loosened.

Tsunade smirked, pointing her chopsticks at me. “See? You’ll live.”

I took a slow breath and nodded, even if the anxiety was still there, curling under my ribs like a restless cat. I would get through this. I had to.

After breakfast, we were on our way to the Academy. That is, me and Tsunade. Kushina had a mission with her team that day and went to meet with them.

The village was already awake by then. Shinobi walked alongside civilians in the streets or leapt across rooftops, the occasional flicker of a flak jacket or the soft sound of sandals landing on tile. Signs of spring were beginning to show as blossoms unfurled on some of the trees lining the roads, petals drifting in the breeze.

The Academy building loomed ahead, familiar from the outside after my walks, but now it felt different—heavier—knowing what I was walking into.

An exam.

A test that would decide if I was allowed to join the Academy properly, if I would start on time with the others, and if I could begin the path I was supposed to walk in this world.

Then our path was interrupted as a kid ran in front of us, shouting at the top of his lungs:

“I will get into the Academy!!”

I blinked, staring at him. He was…unique, to say the least. Wearing a sleeveless green jumpsuit, orange leg warmers, and a bright red scarf that trailed behind him like a banner. Bushy black hair framed his face, reaching his chin, and tied to his back was an actual banner that read:

‘If I complete 500 laps, let me into the Academy!’

Is that… Gai?

My eyebrows furrowed as both Tsunade and I watched him sprint past, determination blazing in his eyes as he ran circles around the training field.

“Well, the village has all kinds of people,” I muttered under my breath, still watching him go.

Tsunade hummed in agreement, a small amused smirk tugging at the corner of her lips. Then she turned, continuing down the path toward the Academy, and I followed.

Somehow, seeing Gai running like that—or who I thought was Gai—made my nerves ease, just a little.

Test or not, I had been training to be a shinobi since I was two years old. If I couldn’t pass a simple entrance exam, it would be an insult to Satoshi-sensei’s efforts, to my mom’s lessons, and to every hour I spent bruising my shins and scraping my hands while learning to land properly.

I took a slow breath, letting it settle in my chest.

I can do this.

When we reached the Academy building, it was quiet. The courtyard was empty, with no groups of children laughing and chasing each other, no parents fussing over them, and no chatter echoing across the training fields.

The new school year wouldn’t start for another two weeks.

For now, the Academy felt like a hollow shell, waiting.

Tsunade led me inside, her sandals tapping against the wooden floors, echoing in the wide hallways. Here and there, teachers walked by carrying clipboards, nodding politely to Tsunade, giving me curious glances before moving on.

It made every step feel loud, reminding me that I was here alone to take an exam that would decide whether I would join the other children when the year began.

My hands curled slightly at my sides as we stopped outside one of the classrooms. I could feel chakra around me—teachers, staff, the quiet hum of seals in the building—but it was all faint, like background noise to the pounding of my heart.

Tsunade glanced down at me, her arms crossing loosely. “You’ll do fine, kiddo.”

I looked up, meeting her warm brown eyes, and nodded.

I can do this.

Tsunade opened the classroom door, and we stepped inside.

A lone Chūnin sat behind the main desk, papers neatly stacked in front of him, a pencil resting between his fingers. He looked up when we entered, blinking before standing quickly.

“Tsunade-sama.” He bowed respectfully, hands at his sides.

He looked to be in his thirties, with long black hair tied in a low ponytail and the beginnings of a beard along his jaw, the kind that looked like he kept meaning to shave but never quite did. He was of average height, wearing the standard Konoha flak jacket over his dark uniform, a kunai pouch strapped securely at his thigh.

His chakra was calm and steady, like the quiet hum of a lantern in a dark room. Not forceful or heavy, just there, stable. Though I could feel a hint of nervousness in it, probably from meeting Tsunade.

“This is Kikyō Uzumaki,” Tsunade introduced, placing a hand on my shoulder briefly. “She’s here for her academy assessment.”

The Chūnin nodded, his expression professional but not unfriendly. “Welcome, Kikyō-chan. I’m Higata; I’ll be proctoring your test today.”

I bowed. “Thank you, Higata-san.”

“Alright, I will be going then,” Tsunade told me before turning to leave.

After, he gestured to one of the lecture desks in the classroom, and I went to sit there, the chair cool against my legs as I adjusted my posture.

Higata moved with quiet efficiency, pulling a clipboard from the stack of papers and glancing over it before looking back at me. “We’ll start with the written portion first, Kikyō-chan. Don’t worry, the test is to determine your level; from what I was told, it shouldn’t be hard to pass.”

He placed a multi-page test in front of me along with a pencil. The papers were yellowed at the edges, faintly smelling of ink and chalk, and the handwriting was neat, each kanji carefully printed.

“Take your time, but don’t overthink it. Let me know when you’re done,” he instructed, stepping back to give me space. “You do have an hour though; answer as much as you can. You don’t have to finish the entire exam.”

I nodded, taking a slow breath as I picked up the pencil, feeling the wood press against my fingers. My chakra pulsed softly under my skin, calm but ready, helping me steady my focus.

The questions started simple: write your name, the kanji for tree and fire, the name of the Hokage, and the number of chakra natures. Then they shifted to math and geography, growing more complex with each page: trigonometry, chakra theory, and critical thinking questions about the Will of Fire.

It wasn’t hard. I had spent a lifetime before this one studying and years in this one training for the life of a shinobi, even if I wasn’t officially one yet. My pencil moved steadily, the room quiet except for the soft scratch of lead on paper and the occasional creak of Higata shifting at his desk.

When the essay questions came, I paused.

What does it mean to protect your comrades?

It means standing beside them, even when you’re scared. It means trying, even when you know you might fail. It means not leaving them behind.

Why is chakra control important?

Because it saves lives. Because it’s the difference between a shinobi and a child with chakra.

Write about a time you learned something important.

I wrote about moving even when I was afraid. About fighting because if you don’t, you lose everything. About how it’s okay to cry later, but you have to move now.

My chest tightened, but I kept writing until the last word was down.

I set the pencil aside, the silence pressing in for a moment before I looked up at Higata.

“I’m done,” I announced, standing up and walking over to him as I handed him the test.

His eyes widened, clearly surprised by how quickly I finished, but he took the papers carefully, glancing over the filled pages.

I didn’t even need to sense his chakra to know he couldn’t believe it; it was obvious on his face.

“You’re thorough,” he commented, flipping through to check I hadn’t skipped anything. “Most kids your age can’t even finish half of it.”

I didn’t know what to say to that, so I just stood there, hands folded in front of me, waiting.

After a moment, he set the papers aside and stood, stretching his shoulders slightly before giving me a nod. “Alright, Kikyō-chan, let’s move on to the chakra control and taijutsu portion.”

He gestured for me to follow him, and I did, the weight of the exam lifting from my shoulders, only to be replaced with the quiet tension of what came next.

We headed out into the academy courtyard.

“We’ll start with chakra control,” Higata explained as we walked. “The purpose is to see if you’re capable of using ninjutsu and genjutsu.”

The courtyard was quiet, the morning light slanting across the training dummies and target posts. I could hear birds in the trees, the faint rustle of leaves in the breeze, and the distant sounds of Konoha waking up beyond the academy walls.

I nodded, rolling my shoulders back as I prepared myself, the chakra under my skin already humming in quiet readiness.

That sounded easy enough. While I didn’t know any genjutsu yet, I knew I could learn them. Ninjutsu, though, was something I already excelled at.

“Alright, Kikyō-chan,” Higata began, positioning himself in front of me. “All you need to do is try to perform the jutsu I’m about to demonstrate. It’s the Clone Jutsu.”

“Um… Higata-san,” I interrupted, raising my hand slightly, “I already know how to do that.”

There it was again: shock and disbelief.

Before he could respond, I formed the hand seal, letting my chakra flow steadily, and in the next moment, a perfect clone appeared at my side.

I heard him mutter under his breath, something like, “Another prodigy… What are they feeding kids these days?”

Higata cleared his throat, trying to regain his composure as he eyed the clone, then me. “Well… that’s… excellent, Kikyō-chan.” He scratched his cheek. “I guess we can mark that off.”

I let the clone disperse with a puff of smoke, folding my hands behind my back.

He flipped through his clipboard, looking a bit lost for a moment before nodding firmly. “Alright, next is taijutsu. We’ll do a short spar so I can evaluate your fundamentals: stance, movement, and striking.”

My stomach tightened a little, but I nodded. “Okay.”

He led me to the center of the courtyard, adjusting his stance into a low guard, one foot forward, his weight evenly distributed. The spring breeze brushed past us, carrying the faint scent of cherry blossoms from a nearby tree.

“Attack when ready,” he instructed calmly, eyes focused, chakra steady.

I took a slow breath, grounding myself. This wasn’t life or death, just a test, but the motion came naturally as I lowered my stance, letting my chakra settle into my limbs for stability. Then I moved.

On the other hand, why did he have so many openings? Was it intentional? No… I could sense it in his chakra; he didn’t intend for the openings.

The Uzumaki taijutsu style was a brawling style, but Satoshi-sensei had taught me his variant of it as well, a more graceful style that relied on speed more than strength. A precursor to his bukijutsu style that I never got the chance to learn.

A quick step forward, a feint for a punch, but then I went low, sweeping my leg out in a clean arc. He reacted at the last moment, chakra flaring in surprise, and my leg made contact, a sharp thump against his shin as he stumbled back, managing to avoid a fall by a hair.

He blinked, eyes wide, before a grin tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Fast,” he muttered, adjusting his stance quickly, feet shifting as he prepared for my next move.

I didn’t give him much time to recover. I pressed forward, another strike aimed at his midsection, my other hand guarding, feet moving in a light shuffle as I followed through, not overextending. He blocked, but it was sloppy, and I could sense the faint spike of his frustration in his chakra.

Satoshi-sensei’s voice echoed in my mind, “If you can see an opening, take it. But don’t be reckless.”

I pivoted, moving behind him with a light step, aiming a tap toward his back. He twisted just in time to block, but it forced him off balance again, and I felt a small spark of pride in my chest as I stepped back, ready, waiting.

“Enough,” he called, breathless, holding up a hand, his chakra spiking before settling again.

I lowered my stance, taking a step back, breathing evenly, letting the tension bleed out of my shoulders as I stood straight.

His eyes met mine, and for a moment he just stared, a mix of disbelief and amusement crossing his face. Then he huffed out a small laugh, rubbing the back of his neck.

“You’re… something else, Kikyō-chan,” he said finally. “Not many academy hopefuls can land a clean hit on me, let alone almost trip me. Well, another of your classmates was much the same, though.”

I wasn’t sure what to say to that, so I settled for a small nod, folding my hands behind my back, letting the breeze carry the falling petals across the courtyard.

Kakashi was probably the other one. It just made sense. I could almost picture his bored face as he swept someone off their feet without trying.

Higata chuckled softly, shaking his head as he stretched his shoulders, the tension easing from his chakra. “You kids are going to give us old folks gray hair,” he muttered, though there was a warm pride behind his words.

I didn’t respond, just let the breeze ruffle my hair, the petals catching on the red strands before drifting away. The courtyard was quiet now, the faint calls of birds in the trees mixing with the rustle of leaves, the smell of earth and spring heavy in the air.

My arms relaxed at my sides, and I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding. It was over. The test was done. I had done well; I knew I had.

All that was left was to wait.

Higata glanced back at me, giving a small nod. “You can sit under the tree if you want while you wait. You’ve earned a rest.”

“Thank you, Higata-san,” I replied, bowing politely before moving to sit under the sakura tree, tucking my knees to my chest as I leaned back against the trunk.

Above me, the blossoms swayed in the breeze, little pink fragments falling and catching the sunlight. I reached out, letting a petal land in my palm, studying the soft veins, the pale color against the calluses on my hand.

Somewhere, I could feel the faint buzz of chakra, Tsunade’s, strong and warm, making her way toward the academy.

It was about fifteen minutes later when Higata came back calling me; I got up and headed to him.

“Congratulations, Kikyō-chan.” He smiled. “I will be looking forward to seeing you when the term starts in two weeks.”

I smiled and bowed. “Thank you, Higata-sensei.”

He ruffled my hair lightly, careful not to mess it too much, before stepping back with a warm chuckle. “Go on, Tsunade-sama is waiting for you.”

I turned, spotting Tsunade leaning against the academy gate, arms crossed, a small, satisfied smirk on her face. Her chakra was calm and steady, like a steady river beneath the sun.

I jogged over, the last few petals still clinging to my hair, and she pushed herself off the gate, giving me a once-over.

“So,” she drawled, eyebrow raised, “survived your first Konoha exam, huh?”

I nodded, trying not to let the grin break across my face, but it slipped through anyway, small and quiet. “Yeah.”

“Good.” She ruffled my hair, this time not caring that it got messy. “C’mon, kiddo. Let’s go home.”

We walked down the academy steps, back onto the main road. The village was alive with movement, the warmth of spring hanging in the air, carrying scents of fresh earth and distant food stalls. I let my shoulders drop, the tension that had been curling under my ribs finally loosening as the breeze tugged at my clothes.

I had done it.

I was going to be a student at the Konoha Academy. I was on my way to becoming an official shinobi.

><><><><><><><>< 

Tsunade had some work at the hospital, so she dropped me off at home before heading there. It was just me and Mito that evening.

I sat across from her at the low table, legs tucked under me, as I told her about the exam and the testing, about Higata-sensei and the courtyard with the blossoms, about the written questions and the taijutsu spar, about the way the pencil felt in my hand, and how the air smelled like spring.

Mito just smiled, listening patiently as I rattled on and on, her eyes warm, her chakra a calm, steady hum that made the small kitchen feel safe.

When I finally stopped to breathe, cheeks warm, she poured me another cup of tea, the steam curling between us.

“You’ve done well, Kikyō-chan,” she said softly, the edges of her eyes crinkling as she smiled. “Your mother would have been proud of you. Your father too.”

My chest tightened, but in a way that didn’t hurt as much this time. I wrapped my hands around the teacup, letting its warmth soak into my palms.

“Thank you, Mito-sama.”

She chuckled lightly, shaking her head. “You’re Uzumaki. You will always find a way forward.”

There was a light rain shower as the wind rustled the garden outside, carrying the scent of rain-wet earth and early blossoms, and for a moment, the world felt quiet and soft around us.

“I plan on informing Kushina when she comes back, but I got word some things are progressing faster than expected,” Mito started, her voice steady but touched with weariness. “As it stands, some are objecting to the two Uzumaki living in the Senju compound, disregarding that I had been one before.”

She sighed, the sound soft, almost like she was tired of the constant political nuisances, the endless tug-of-war of clan pride and village politics.

“The Uzumaki owned a mansion—well, more like a one-house compound—on the western edge of the village,” she continued, her eyes distant with memory. “It even has the Uzumaki Clan’s Mask Storage Temple in its vicinity.”

I felt the words settle in the small room, heavy in the air between us.

“We’re moving out?” I asked, swallowing, my voice smaller than I wanted it to be. “Kushina and me?”

Mito’s eyes softened as she looked at me.

I had only been here for a few days, but I didn’t want to leave. I just wanted to be here, in this house that smelled of old wood and tea, with Mito’s steady chakra in the background and the soft light on the engawa in the mornings.

I just wanted to stay.

“I wish things were better, but as it stands, our world isn’t so kind,” Mito continued, her gaze shifting toward the rain-dappled garden, the lantern light flickering against the paper screens. “There will be some people working in the mansion, of course. It’s too big for the two of you to manage alone, especially with your ages.”

She paused, folding her hands in her lap, the silence settling again, filled with the soft rhythm of rain against the roof.

“It’s not a punishment, Kikyō-chan,” she added gently, turning her eyes back to me. “It’s your clan’s home, and it’s your right to live there. You won’t be alone.”

“It feels like one, though,” I replied, my voice small, eyes dropping to the tea in front of me. My reflection wavered with the ripples, red hair and purple eyes blurring in the dark surface.

Mito didn’t say anything to that, and I didn’t try to fill the silence either.

We just sat there, listening to the soft patter of rain against the engawa, watching the droplets slide down the garden stones, letting the quiet hold us for a little while.

><><><><><><><><><><>< 

The next few days passed quietly.

I had started packing up the things I had only just unpacked, folding clothes, and wrapping a few new scrolls and ninja tools carefully in cloth. It was strange how quickly a place could start to feel like home and how quickly you had to leave it behind.

When Kushina came back from her mission, she reacted exactly as I expected when Mito informed her about the upcoming move.

There was a lot of yelling and shouting. Mito had simply sighed, then taken Kushina with her somewhere.

When they came back later, Kushina was quiet. She didn’t say much, but her face had settled into something like reluctant acceptance, even if her eyes still burned.

Another surprise came when we were told Mito wouldn’t be joining us for the funeral and ceremony. She was too tired that day to leave the house, her health keeping her confined despite her wishes. I could see it in her eyes that morning, how much she wanted to go, but she only smiled softly and told us to be strong for her.

When the day came, we dressed in our funeral clothes: black tops and skirts, black sandals, and hair tied back. It was just myself, Kushina, and Tsunade standing together before we left, the quiet of the house pressing around us as we prepared to step out into the village.

The village felt different.

Even if it actually wasn’t.

Tsunade led the way to the Konoha graveyard. People had already gathered there, dressed in black and gray, their voices hushed, the air thick with the scent of incense and damp earth. She led us to the front, where a space had been cleared for us, for the last Uzumaki.

I recognized some of the faces in the crowd: Kakashi, small and quiet beside his father, Sakumo, who stood like a steady pillar. Jiraiya and Orochimaru stood near Tsunade when we arrived, both unusually silent, their eyes serious in a way that felt heavy. Inoshige was there as well, and of course, the Third Hokage, Sarutobi Hiruzen, standing near the front, the wind stirring the edges of his white robes.

Tsunade and Mito had told us it would be mostly other clan heads and heirs, high-ranking shinobi, the Hokage, and the village elders.

They were all here for the Uzumaki. To honor them. To mourn them.

The banners with the red swirl were placed beside the rows of memorial stones at the front, fluttering softly with the breeze, a reminder of what had been lost, of what could not be brought back.

I stood beside Kushina, who was silent, her hands fisted at her sides, her eyes locked forward, her chakra tense like a storm that had nowhere to go. I didn’t say anything to her. I didn’t know what to say.

I kept my chakra sense as dampened as possible; I didn’t want to feel what others were feeling right now.

The Hokage stepped forward, lifting his gaze to look over the crowd, his eyes pausing on us for a moment before he began to speak.

“Today, we gather to honor the Uzumaki clan, who have long been allies, friends, and family to the Hidden Leaf. We honor their memory, their strength, and their unyielding will.”

His voice carried through the graveyard, through the branches of the trees overhead, and through the quiet breaths of the people gathered.

“They were people who believed in protecting others, who believed in life even in the harshest of times. We, the people of Konoha, will carry that belief with us, in every mission, in every breath, in every step forward.”

The words were kind. They were true, maybe, in a way. But they didn’t bring anyone back.

They didn’t change what had happened.

My fingers curled around the fabric of my sleeve, grounding myself in the feel of it, in the way the breeze caught the edge of my hair, and in the warmth of the sun on my face.

Because that was all I could do.

When the Hokage finished, there was a moment of silence, the wind whispering through the leaves, the incense smoke curling around us.

And then, one by one, people stepped forward, bowing, paying respects, and whispering quiet words meant for the dead, meant for us.

Kushina didn’t move, her eyes bright, her jaw set. I didn’t move either, just stood there, letting the moment sink in, letting it settle in my bones.

It was supposed to be a funeral.

But it was also a promise.

That we would keep living.

That we would endure.

That the Uzumaki would not be forgotten.

The ceremony didn’t last long after that. People came forward, one by one, bowing, placing flowers, and offering quiet prayers. A small stone marker with the Uzumaki symbol was placed at the front of the memorial row, incense burning in a thin, wavering line of smoke.

Then the political niceties started.

Kushina was already a known figure in the village, loud and brash, a genin who people knew had potential, who some suspected would be the next Jinchūriki, even if no one said it out loud. They offered her respectful nods, words of encouragement, and careful praise.

I, on the other hand, was a new entity, something they hadn’t yet decided how to handle.

The Third Hokage came to speak to us personally, kind words in that careful voice of his, eyes sharp but warm as he welcomed us again, speaking of the village being our home now, of family, of belonging.

Other shinobi came by, offering small smiles or measured curiosity—some with genuine warmth, others with the sort of distance that made it clear they were trying to place who I was, what I would become, and what I might mean to the village.

Tsunade stood close, a hand on my shoulder at times, grounding me, reminding them whose student, whose family, I was.

Kushina’s chakra felt like a storm beside me, contained but swirling, while mine was quiet, settled, just watching.

I bowed politely, answered questions when asked, and accepted the quiet condolences and the cautious welcome. I said the words I needed to say and let them see what they needed to see.

All the while, a part of me just wanted to go back to the Senju compound, to sit on the engawa with Mito and listen to the rain again, where it was quiet, where it didn’t feel like everyone was watching.

When Danzo approached us—and yes, I recognized him right away; not many people walked with a cane, a bandage over one eye, and a presence that screamed scheming—I started my chakra sensing again, and I regretted it instantly.

This man was the word calculating on two feet. His chakra was sharp, cold, and dark, like a blade pressed just close enough to draw a drop of blood.

“Danzo, this is Kikyō Uzumaki, and I think you and Kushina-chan have met before,” the Third Hokage introduced, voice steady but with a tension beneath it, like he was already bracing for something.

I felt Tsunade’s hand tense on my shoulder, fingers pressing down just enough to ground me.

“Indeed.” Danzo’s visible eye flicked to me, dark and heavy, weighing, measuring. “I have heard a great deal already about the younger Uzumaki.”

His gaze felt like cold iron, and I had to fight the urge to squirm under it.

“Her academy scores are already making the rounds,” he continued, his tone smooth and polite but with something oily beneath it. “Everyone is wondering just how strong the next generation will be, between her and the young Hatake heir.”

His eye shifted, glancing across the courtyard where Kakashi stood beside his father, talking quietly with Jiraiya, the three of them looking more at ease than anyone near Danzo could ever hope to feel.

Kushina’s chakra spiked, a quick flare of irritation that settled as she folded her arms, scowling at Danzo with open distrust. Tsunade’s grip on my shoulder remained firm.

I bowed, just slightly, the polite gesture I had practiced for these kinds of moments, forcing my voice to remain even.

“It is an honor to meet you, Danzo-sama,” I said, even though every instinct screamed that this man was not someone I wanted to meet, let alone be near.

His visible eye narrowed faintly, and for a moment, I felt the cold edge of interest brush against my chakra, like a predator tasting the air.

“Indeed,” he repeated softly, before turning his attention back to Hiruzen, his cane tapping once against the stone as they began to speak of something else, something political, something I was too young, too small, to be included in.

But I felt it.

The way he looked at me.

The way he thought about me.

And for the first time that day, I felt a sliver of fear that had nothing to do with being watched and everything to do with being noticed.

I felt a hand land on my head, ruffling my hair with no mercy, pulling me out of the cold weight of Danzo’s gaze.

“Oi! Jiraiya-sama!” I complained, swatting at the offending hand as he laughed, the rich, boasting sound echoing across the quiet that Danzo had left in his wake.

“Lighten up, kid!” Jiraiya grinned down at me, his wild hair and even wilder grin almost too big for the somber setting. “You’ll get wrinkles if you keep making that face!”

I puffed my cheeks, glaring, reaching up to fix my hair as best I could while he kept laughing like it was the funniest thing he had seen all day.

It was then I realized I had missed Sakumo and Kakashi approaching with him. Sakumo was speaking quietly with the Hokage, and Kakashi was standing a little behind, his dark eyes watching everything with that sharp, almost tired look.

Kakashi tilted his head, eyeing me, and I stuck my tongue out at him without thinking, earning a blink of surprise before his mouth twitched, the faintest ghost of a smirk under his mask.

How was he so expressive with half his face covered up?

Jiraiya’s laughter boomed again as he leaned closer, giving my hair one last ruffle for good measure.

“There, that’s better,” he said, eyes softening for just a moment. “You’ve got a big day ahead, kid. Don’t let old men like Danzo ruin it for you, yeah?”

I blinked, startled, but nodded slowly.

“Good!” He straightened up, looking far too large and bright in the middle of a funeral, throwing an arm around Sakumo’s shoulders as he called out something teasing that made Sakumo sigh but smile.

I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding, brushing a stray petal from my sleeve, the fear that had crawled up my spine from Danzo’s gaze slowly easing away.

And just like that, the weight of being noticed was replaced with the warmth of being seen.

People trickled away, the quiet settling back over the graveyard as the last petals fell. One by one, the shinobi and villagers turned to leave, until it was just us standing there, the memorial stone still new, the spiral of the Uzumaki symbol catching the light.

We turned to head home, the path ahead quiet, the weight of the day lingering on our shoulders.

Chapter 11: The Academy

Notes:

Kishimoto's ability to timeline is very questionable XD so I have to take some liberties with when things happen and with some ages as well. There will be a note at the end of the chapter with the ages of everyone ^^ hope you enjoy the chapter :D

We moved out a few days after the ceremony. By then, the house had been cleaned and renovated, ready for us to step into our new lives.

Of course, before we left, we got an intense lecture from Tsunade.

“Come to me if you need anything. Anything,” she repeated, her golden-brown eyes pinning us in place. “And you need to be careful with money. Even if you’re not paying rent, you still need to handle utilities, food, and supplies.”

Kushina nodded along, arms crossed, her chakra buzzing with tension, the stubborn tilt of her jaw saying, I can take care of it. I just swallowed and nodded too, clutching the scroll of documents and the small bag of money Tsunade gave us for the first month’s expenses.

The house—or mansion, depending on how you looked at it—was tucked away on a quiet road in the west of the village. It was a large, traditional one-story building, with long wooden hallways, a spacious garden, and a smaller secondary house within its grounds. It was the kind of place that felt too big, too quiet, for just two people.

It was impressive.

When we arrived, we explored every hallway, every sliding door, and every creaking floorboard. Kushina picked a room near the main areas, declaring she wanted to be “where the action is, dattebane.” I chose a room that opened onto the back engawa, where the garden met the edge of the house, a place where I could sit and watch the dawn or the rain.

There was still an emptiness to it, the kind that echoed when you walked too fast or spoke too loudly, but for now, it was ours.

We met the housekeeper, Hiyama Omoshi, a woman in her forties with kind eyes and steady hands. She was hired to help manage the house for Kushina and me, but her chakra told another story: calm, sharp, vigilant. Shinobi, definitely. Probably one of the guards placed to watch over Kushina.

She explained we would have rotating staff for cooking, gardening, and cleaning, and that she would manage the hires and supplies, leaving us to focus on our training and school.

The first few days, neither Kushina nor I slept much.

It was weird. Too quiet. Too… empty in a way I couldn’t name, like the house was holding its breath around us, waiting for something to fill it.

It somehow always ended up the same: one of us getting up in the middle of the night, padding down the dark hallway to the living room we’d claimed as ours, only to find the other already there, sitting on a cushion or curled up on the tatami, clutching a blanket.

We’d just sit there, talking about nothing and everything—about the garden, about training, about how weird it was to have a whole house to ourselves. We’d talk until our eyes drooped and the words slurred, until exhaustion finally pulled us under, and we fell asleep there, the soft hush of the night around us.

Somehow, it made it easier to breathe.

We grew closer in those days.

One such night, as the end of the month approached—and with it, the start of the Academy—we found ourselves in that room again, sitting on the floor with blankets wrapped around our shoulders. The lantern light cast soft shadows on the walls, and the hush of the house made every whisper feel louder.

“I know you’ll start getting a stipend soon, but…” Kushina began, her voice hesitant in a way it rarely was. She was picking at the edge of her blanket, her chakra flickering with restless energy.

“I think I still need to pick up a few more missions,” she continued, glancing at me. “Maybe I can convince sensei to take us on a C-rank. It’d pay more, and—”

“You don’t have to push yourself, you know,” I interrupted softly.

She clicked her tongue, looking away. “It’s not about that, dattebane. I want to. We’ve got this whole house now, and… and I don’t want you worrying about stuff like food and scroll money, okay?”

I looked down at my hands, thumbs pressing into the calluses on my palms. I wanted to argue. To tell her I’d find a way to help too, that I didn’t want her to carry everything. But I also knew Kushina. Knew that stubbornness was her way of protecting people she cared about.

I swallowed, then nodded. “How does it work, by the way? Like… shinobi income and all that?”

Kushina blinked, then rubbed the back of her neck, her red hair shifting over her shoulder. “Oh, uh, well… We get paid per mission, you know? D-ranks pay the least, but they’re easy, like catching cats or helping farmers. C-ranks are better, but they’re a bit more dangerous, like escort missions or dealing with bandits.”

She glanced at me, gauging if I was following, then continued. “The pay depends on the mission rank, and you get bonuses if you complete missions quickly or take on extra work.”

Her lips twitched into a grin. “And if you’re a super cool shinobi like me, dattebane, you get extra missions because everyone knows how awesome you are.”

I snorted, rolling my eyes, but I couldn’t stop the small smile that slipped out. “Right, right, ‘super cool.’”

She stuck her tongue out at me before her grin softened. “But really, you don’t need to worry about it too much. Just focus on your training, Kikyō. I’ll handle the missions and the money until you graduate.”

I shook my head. “We’ll manage it together; don’t push yourself too much.”

“Kikyō, I’m the older one here, I have—”

“You’re thirteen,” I cut in, crossing my arms. “You’re only relatively older, Kushina-nee-san.”

Her mouth dropped open, then snapped shut, her cheeks puffing out like an angry cat as she glared at me. “T-thirteen is still older, dattebane! I am your big sister here!”

She hadn’t even commented on me calling her nee-san; she just took to it.

I snorted, a small laugh slipping out despite the heavy topic. “Only by eight years.”

“Eight years is a lot!” she shot back, jabbing a finger at me.

We glared at each other for a moment before the tension broke, both of us giggling, the sound echoing softly in the big, empty house. Her laughter was loud and bright, and I felt the knot in my chest loosen a little more.

When we calmed down, she ruffled my hair roughly. “Still, let your big sister handle it for now, okay?”

I huffed, smoothing down my hair, but I nodded. “Fine. But I’m still helping when I can.”

Her grin softened again, and she nudged my shoulder. “Deal.”

We sat there a little longer, the quiet settling around us, softer now, not so heavy. Outside, the night air was cool, carrying the scent of damp earth through the open shoji doors.

For now, it was enough.

As the first day of the Academy approached, I made sure to keep up with my training—at least with Shinbunko.

It hit me one morning as I was sitting on the engawa, staring out at the garden while the wind rustled the leaves. I hadn’t really trained since… Uzushio.

I’d practiced, sure. I’d kept up my chakra control, tried to access Shinbunko, and even practiced sealing. But it wasn’t the same. It wasn’t the same as getting up before dawn to train with Satoshi-sensei, wasn’t the same as sparring with Dad, and wasn’t the same as hearing Mom’s voice correcting me.

My fists curled in my lap, the calluses brushing together, a reminder that I wasn’t just a child playing pretend anymore.

I was a shinobi. Or I would be. Soon.

So I stood up, brushed off my training clothes, and stepped out into the garden.

That was how Kushina came home one day to find our garden littered with targets made from straw and old laundry poles, kunai and shuriken embedded in them at careful, precise angles.

I had spent the day moving, letting my body remember what it felt like to train, not just to practice. Running drills until sweat dripped down my back, cycling through the katas Satoshi-sensei had drilled into me until they were as familiar as breathing, before finally moving on to the kunai.

Thud. Thud. Thunk.

The weight of the weapons in my hands, the pull of chakra to steady my grip, the rhythm of breathing in, aiming, and letting go—it calmed me in a way the quiet never did.

“Whoa!” Kushina’s voice cut through the afternoon air as she dropped her mission pack by the engawa, blinking at the pincushion remains of the targets. “You really went all out, dattebane.”

I lowered my arm, the last kunai still in my grip, and turned to her, breathing a little heavily but feeling alive. “I needed to get back into it.”

She stared at me for a moment, then grinned, bright and sharp. “Good. That’s how a kunoichi should be, you know.” She tossed me a water bottle she’d grabbed from the kitchen, her chakra warm with approval.

I caught it, uncapping it with one hand, and took a long drink, the cool water washing away the dryness in my throat.

For a moment, the garden was quiet except for the rustle of leaves, the scent of warm grass rising around us, and the kunai glinting in the late afternoon sun.

“I’m leaving on a mission,” Kushina said, breaking the silence. “I finally convinced Sensei and the Hokage to let us take a C-rank.” Her grin was quick but didn’t quite reach her eyes before she frowned. “But that means I won’t be there for your academy entrance ceremony. I’m sorry.”

I felt something small twist in my chest, but I pushed it down. I couldn’t tell her I was upset—not when I knew she was doing this for us, for me, for the home we were building together. She didn’t owe me anything, and she was already doing more than enough.

“It’s okay,” I said, forcing a small smile as I set another kunai down. “It’s not a big deal anyway. I’ll be perfectly fine.”

She stared at me for a long moment, her chakra flickering with something like guilt, before she ruffled my hair roughly, her grin returning, brighter this time.

“You’re too mature for your age, Kikyō, dattebane.”

I laughed, swatting at her hand. “Says the thirteen-year-old trying to be an adult.”

She stuck out her tongue, and for a moment, the knot in my chest loosened again, replaced by warmth as the wind carried the scent of grass between us.

Kushina left on her mission the next day.

That night, the house felt too big again. Too quiet.

I sat on the engawa for a while, listening to the rustle of the wind in the garden, the distant sounds of the village winding down, and the soft hum of the night insects. But the quiet wasn’t comforting tonight; it pressed around me, heavy in a way that made my chest tight.

So I summoned Kaze.

The little sparrow appeared in a puff of chakra smoke, feathers ruffled and blinking sleepily at me. He wasn’t as small as when I first met him a few weeks ago, but he was still small enough to hop onto my shoulder, then onto my head, where he promptly curled up without complaint.

“Really?” I whispered, reaching up to gently stroke his feathers.

Kaze let out a sleepy chirp in response, tucking his head under his wing. Within moments, he was fast asleep, a tiny, warm weight against the cool stillness of the night.

I sat there, watching the moonlight slide across the floorboards, the quiet now a little less heavy with Kaze’s soft breathing above me.

Then, finally, April 1st came.

The first day of the Academy.

I dressed carefully that morning, smoothing down the fabric to settle the nervous energy in my hands. Black shorts and a sleeveless dark-red kimono-styled short dress tied with a thin sash. Simple, practical, but still me.

Kaze fluttered around as I tied my hair back, his small chirps filling the room, cutting through the quiet that still clung to the house without Kushina there. I glanced at my reflection, at the red hair, the purple eyes, and the Uzumaki face I wore in this life, and took a slow breath.

I was going to the Academy.

I was finally starting.

“Okay, I can do this,” I muttered to myself, turning to Kaze. “You should head home now. I can’t take you with me.”

He chirped once, feathers ruffling, before disappearing in a puff of smoke.

I took a deep breath, tightening the strap on the kunai holster around my thigh and adjusting the small pouch at my waist. Here, kids didn’t carry backpacks to the Academy. They wore pouches and holsters early, getting used to the weight, the feel, and the reminder that even as children, we were shinobi.

When I stepped out of my room, the house was quiet, morning light pooling across the floorboards.

“Good morning, Hiyama-san,” I greeted as I stepped into the kitchen.

“Good morning, Kikyō-sama,” she replied, bowing her head politely, her voice calm and precise as always. I was still getting used to that.

“Just Kikyō, please, Hiyama-san. You’re the older one here,” I tried again, offering a small smile as I sat at the table for breakfast.

She paused, her hands stilling over the teapot for a fraction of a second before resuming.

“Kikyō-sama, you need to realize your position as a clan head.”

There it was, the lecture tone, calm but firm, like I was a child who forgot to mind her manners. Technically, I was a child, but that wasn’t the point.

I sighed, poking at the rice in my bowl. The clan head of a nonexistent clan shouldn’t count.

“Clan head of two people, you mean,” I muttered under my breath, not quite softly enough.

Her eyes flicked to me, one brow raising ever so slightly, but she said nothing, returning her attention to the teapot as if she hadn’t heard.

I felt heat rise to my cheeks and quickly scooped a bite of rice into my mouth to avoid saying anything else. The quiet settled between us again, punctuated only by the distant calls of birds outside and the low bubbling of the kettle.

I ate quietly but quickly, the taste of rice and pickled vegetables barely registering as I focused on the day ahead. When I was done, I set my chopsticks down with a small clack.

Hiyama-san turned, walking over with a wrapped bento box, the fabric a deep blue with a white swirl pattern.

“For your lunch, Kikyō-sama,” she said, holding it out with both hands.

I took it carefully, feeling the warmth through the cloth. “Thank you, Hiyama-san.”

She nodded once, stepping back. “Eat well. You will need your strength for your first day.”

I tucked the small bento into my pouch—I should probably do a storage seal or something on my pouch soon—adjusted the straps, and then stood. The house felt large behind me as I stepped toward the door, sliding it open to the morning air, cool and bright, the scent of dew and earth rising to meet me.

><><><><><><><><>< 

The walk to the academy was quiet, the kind of quiet that pressed against your ears and made your heartbeat sound louder than it should. I let my chakra sense spread out around me as I walked, the gentle hum of signatures flickering in the edges of my awareness—civilians with their soft, calm waves, shinobi flickering by with sharp, controlled flows. It kept my mind busy, so I didn’t think too hard about the nervous energy churning in my stomach.

There was excitement in the village, an undercurrent that even I could feel, like the faint thrum before a storm. Kids were starting at the academy, parents walking with them, and proud voices and laughter were echoing in the morning streets. A few shopkeepers were out, calling greetings, while other kids were ahead with their parents, bouncing on the balls of their feet with shiny new pouches strapped to their hips.

“Kikyō!” a voice called.

I turned, blinking as Rin came running up, her short hair bouncing, a bright, cheerful grin on her face.

“Good morning!” She beamed, a little breathless but happy.

I offered a small smile back, shifting my bento in my hand. “Good morning.”

She fell into step beside me, humming softly as she walked, her chakra warm and lively, like a small flame in the morning air. It made the nervousness settle just a bit; there was something grounding about having someone walk with me, even if we didn’t talk much.

“We’re really starting today,” she said, glancing over with that excited, determined light in her eyes.

“Yeah,” I replied softly. “We are.”

“I hope Obito makes it on time,” Rin said as we reached the Academy building, her brows pinching with mild worry. “He has a tendency to be late to everything.”

I tilted my head, considering it as I glanced at the large wooden gates ahead, the polished Konoha emblem catching the morning light. “I mean, it’s the first day. He wouldn’t miss this… would he?” I asked, genuinely curious. “If he misses today, he’d miss registration.”

Rin sighed, puffing out her cheeks. “That’s exactly what I’m worried about. He says he wants to be Hokage someday, but he’s always late to everything.”

I huffed a small laugh despite myself, shifting my pouch. “The Academy entry exam allowed entry, but showing up on the first day is kind of important.”

“It’s the official start,” Rin nodded firmly, her sandals scuffing lightly against the walkway. “And he needs to be here to get assigned to a classroom.”

“Guess we’ll find out,” I murmured, glancing around as we joined the trickle of children and parents moving toward the open doors.

The Academy loomed ahead, tall and familiar, but today it felt different, humming with the sharp, eager chakra of dozens of children gathered for the same purpose. It was a start, I told myself, forcing my hands to relax as we waited in the courtyard, where the morning sun caught on headbands and polished sandals, the air filled with nervous chatter and parents’ soft encouragements.

“Rin-chan, you left your old man behind like that.”

We turned as an older man approached, brown hair pulled back, the same purple markings on his face as Rin. His chakra felt steady and warm, tinged with a quiet pride that clung to him like an aura. He was wearing a standard chunin uniform.

“Papa!” Rin puffed out her cheeks, crossing her arms. “You walk too slow!”

He chuckled, rubbing the back of his head with a sheepish grin. “I just wanted to see you off properly, you know.”

“You already did at home,” Rin mumbled, but her shoulders relaxed, a small, embarrassed smile creeping onto her face.

His gaze shifted to me, warm but assessing in the way adults often were. “Ah, and who’s your friend, Rin-chan?”

I straightened, bowing politely. “Good morning. I’m Kikyō Uzumaki.”

“Good morning,” he replied, eyes crinkling with a gentle smile. “Nice to meet you, Kikyō-chan. I’m Hiteru, Rin’s dad. Take care of my Rin, okay?”

“Papa!” Rin’s face went bright red.

I blinked, surprised, before nodding. “I will try, Hiteru-san.”

“Good.” His eyes swept over the courtyard, his smile softening into something like nostalgia as he took in the rows of children in their best clothes, kunai pouches bouncing against small hips, sandals polished for the first day. “The first day at the Academy is always a special one. Make the most of it.”

“Papa, you’re embarrassing me,” Rin huffed, tugging at his sleeve.

He chuckled, ruffling her hair before stepping back. “Alright, alright. I’ll leave right after the entrance ceremony.”

“Oh, there’s Kakashi!” Rin, she said suddenly, her eyes lighting up as she grabbed my hand and pulled me along.

Kakashi stood a little ways off with his father, the silver of his hair bright even in the morning light. Sakumo was speaking with a few other shinobi, their conversation easy, quiet laughter rising above the hum of families gathered in the courtyard.

“Good morning, Kakashi-kun!” Rin greeted us, her voice bright with excitement as we approached.

Her father drifted toward Sakumo, slipping easily into the conversation, leaving Rin and me standing before Kakashi.

Kakashi glanced at us, eyes sharp and unreadable, hands tucked into his pockets. For a moment, I wondered if he’d ignore us, but then he gave a small nod.

“Morning,” he replied, his voice flat, but it wasn’t unfriendly.

“Good morning.” I greeted him as well.

Rin didn’t seem to mind the lack of enthusiasm, rocking on her heels, grinning at him. “I can’t believe we’re finally starting, can you? I was so excited I couldn’t sleep!”

Kakashi blinked, tilting his head slightly. “It’s just the Academy.”

Rin pouted. “You could at least pretend to be excited.”

He was excited; I could sense it in his chakra even if he was pretending otherwise. He was just trying to act cool.

“Wonder if all of us will be in the same classroom,” I wondered as I looked around.

“More than likely, Dad mentioned that we’ll probably have 1 or 2 classrooms maximum this year.” Kakashi mentioned

The number seemed a little low considering everything.

The number seemed a little low considering everything. Back home, back in Uzushio, the Academy had been bustling with children, classrooms filled with chatter, and the scrape of sandals on wood.

I glanced around at the gathered families, the knots of children clutching kunai pouches, and the parents with proud or anxious smiles. Konoha was bigger than Uzushio had been, so why…?

“War,” Kakashi said, as if reading my mind.

Rin glanced between us, her smile faltering slightly.

“My dad said a lot of people are waiting to send their kids in,” Kakashi continued, looking away, “or they’re keeping them home to help around the house until they’re older.”

“But we’re not at war, are we?” Rin hesitated.

I swallowed, folding my hands behind my back, letting the morning breeze ruffle the ends of my hair.

“Technically not… but things are very tense right now, so our generation might end up in one by the time we graduate.” I replied.

“Still,” Rin said, pushing the moment away with her stubborn optimism, “we’re here, so let’s do our best, okay? All of us.”

Her smile was bright, the kind that refused to let the heaviness stay.

I met her eyes and nodded. “Yeah.”

Kakashi hummed.

“Sure,” he said, stuffing his hands deeper into his pockets as the Hokage walked on the small stage in the courtyard, calling for attention.

Hiruzen’s presence was quiet but absolute, the low murmur of the courtyard dying instantly as he stepped forward. His robes caught the morning light.

“Welcome,” he began, his voice carrying easily across the courtyard, warm and clear, “to the first day of your journey as shinobi of the Hidden Leaf.”

Around me, children straightened, parents’ faces softened with pride or worry, and the air was thick with hope and fear and dreams.

“This path will not be easy,” Hiruzen continued, eyes sweeping over us, pausing on each small face. “But it is one worth walking. You will learn to protect yourselves, your comrades, and this village. You will learn what it means to carry the Will of Fire.”

I felt something tighten in my chest at those words. The Will of Fire. Protecting others, protecting the village. I thought of Mom. Of Satoshi-sensei. Of everything I’d lost. I closed my eyes briefly, breathing in the crisp morning air.

I will protect what I have left.

Hiruzen finished his speech, simple and short, before stepping back, letting the instructors take over. Chūnin instructors with clipboards began calling names, splitting us into lines for registration and classroom assignments.

“Kakashi Hatake.”

Kakashi stepped forward, shoulders straight and calm, as Sakumo gave him a small nod from where he stood with the other parents.

“Rin Nohara.”

“Coming!” Rin chirped, throwing me a quick grin before jogging forward, hair bouncing.

“Kikyō Uzumaki.”

I took a slow breath before stepping out of line, the eyes of others flicking toward me, some curious, some whispering. The Uzumaki girl. The one of three remaining of the clan.

I ignored them, moving toward the instructor, letting the morning sun warm my back, letting the quiet hum of chakra around me steady my pulse.

I was handed a file with all the registration paperwork and guided to join the line with the rest.

A few names were called; some I recognized, many I didn’t. A few of the names I recognized were Kurenai, Asuma, Gai, Ibiki, Genma, Shizune, and Ebisu.

When Obito was called, he still wasn’t here. Rin walked forward and got his papers for him before coming back to the line.

In the end, we ended up with one class of 27 students.

The courtyard slowly emptied as parents said their goodbyes, lingering at the edges, eyes bright or worried, before they finally trickled away. The instructors herded us into a line, checking papers, collecting signatures.

When Obito finally arrived, breathless and with hair sticking up in every direction, Rin scolded him so hard he nearly fell over, shoving his paperwork into his hands with a huff. He just scratched the back of his head, muttering excuses, but his grin was bright and sheepish, and it made Rin’s scolding soften, even if she tried to keep her glare.

In the end, the twenty-seven of us stood together, a messy, fidgeting group, some looking excited, others already bored, and a few looking terrified as we were led into the building, down a hallway that smelled of old wood and chalk dust, and into Classroom 1-A.

Three rows of wooden lecture-like desks filled the room, the light from the windows catching on polished surfaces, casting warm lines across the floor. A blackboard took up the front wall, a single phrase written in careful brush strokes:

“A shinobi endures.”

I found a seat near the window, letting the light fall on my desk. Kakashi sat a row behind me, arms crossed, eyes half-lidded but sharp. Rin plopped down beside me, still fussing about Obito, who tumbled into the seat next to her with a loud thud that made the whole row jump.

Outside, cherry blossoms swayed gently, petals drifting down like quiet reminders of spring.

At the front, the instructor—a chūnin with a tired but kind face—called for silence.

The chatter slowly died as the instructor’s presence settled over the room, his chakra steady but not imposing, like a calm current beneath the surface.

“My name is Shibata-sensei,” he introduced himself, rolling a piece of chalk between his fingers. “Welcome to your first day at the Konoha Ninja Academy.”

He looked young, maybe in his twenties, with brown hair tied in a low ponytail and sharp black eyes that missed nothing as they swept over us. His chakra was calm but firm, like someone who could be kind until you gave him a reason not to be.

A hush settled over the classroom, the quiet only broken by the creak of desks as some kids shifted, fidgeting with kunai pouches or glancing at each other nervously.

Shibata-sensei turned to the blackboard and tapped the phrase on it with the chalk. “This will be the first and most important lesson you learn here. The life of a shinobi is not easy, and it is not fair, but you will learn to endure, to adapt, and to grow stronger.”

Beside me, Rin straightened, her eyes bright with determination, while Obito slouched in his seat, arms crossed, trying to look uninterested but failing miserably. Behind me, Kakashi barely moved, but I could feel his focus, sharp and unwavering.

I glanced out the window, watching a petal drift past, and took a slow breath. I could do this.

Shibata-sensei set the chalk down. “Today will be simple. We will go over your schedule, classroom rules, and what will be expected of you during your time here. Tomorrow, your training will begin.”

A few groans rippled across the room, but most kids sat up straighter, eager despite themselves.

“You will be learning writing, ninjutsu theory, chakra control, taijutsu, basic weapon training, village history, tactics, and mathematics,” he continued, his tone brisk but not unkind. “You will be tested on all of these. Your attendance and participation will matter. If you wish to become shinobi, you will need to prove you can endure even the boring parts.”

He let the words sink in before giving a small, wry smile. “Any questions?”

A hand shot up in the back. “When do we get to learn cool jutsu?”

A ripple of laughter moved through the class, even as Shibata-sensei’s smile widened. “When you prove you have the discipline to handle them.”

Obito groaned loudly beside Rin, dropping his head to the desk. Rin giggled softly, and I felt a small smile pull at my lips.

“I will be handling most of your lessons,” Shibata-sensei continued, tapping the chalk against the board lightly. “However, the girls will attend kunoichi classes with Sakura-sensei. Those will be every other Tuesday.”

A few of the girls around the room exchanged glances, some excited, some groaning. I tilted my head. Right, kunoichi classes. Etiquette, infiltration skills, poisons, disguise. Not just flower arranging like some would think…or so I hoped that’s how Konoha did it too.

“Kunoichi classes,” Obito muttered under his breath, lifting his head just enough to glance at us. “Lucky, you get extra days off.”

Rin elbowed him. “It’s not a day off, baka; it’s more training.”

Obito slumped again, defeated. “Still sounds better than more math.”

Kakashi hummed behind me, unimpressed, arms still crossed as he stared out the window.

Shibata-sensei moved on, outlining the daily schedule—lectures in the morning, physical training and practical skills after lunch, finishing with review or quiet study before dismissal. He emphasized teamwork, discipline, and punctuality, pausing to give Obito a pointed look when he said the last word.

Looks like Obito had himself already marked as a troublemaker because of his tardiness.

“We’ll start today with simple writing lessons,” Shibata-sensei continued, turning to the blackboard and quickly sketching out rows of hiragana and katakana, followed by a few basic kanji. “I know some of you already have these memorized, but we need everyone at the same level before we can move forward.”

He lifted a thick stack of papers from the podium and moved to the front row. “Take one and pass the rest back.”

I took a sheet when it reached me, the paper still warm from the stack, and glanced down. Basic character tracing, a few simple words, and a line at the bottom asking us to write our names in both kana and kanji.

I pulled out my pencil, letting it settle in my hand, and glanced out the window once before bending over my work. Outside, the breeze caught another flurry of cherry blossoms, scattering them across the training field.

Inside, the quiet scratch of pencils against paper filled the room, mingling with the occasional sigh or the soft muttering of a student struggling to remember a stroke order.

A few of us finished quickly—me, Kakashi, and five others whose names I remembered from the entrance ceremony: Asuma, Kurenai, Genma, Saya, and Shizune.

Kakashi leaned back in his seat, arms crossed, gaze flicking toward the window like he was already bored. Asuma had his head propped on his hand, twirling his pencil. Kurenai and Shizune were quietly checking their work, erasing a stroke here or there, while Genma and Saya were whispering about something, with Genma smirking like they already shared a secret.

I set down my pencil, glancing over my page once to double-check before folding my hands on the desk. The instructor noticed, giving a small nod of acknowledgment, but said nothing as the rest of the class continued their work.

The room felt warm with the late morning sun filtering in, the scent of chalk dust and wood mingling with the faint breeze coming through the open windows. For a moment, I let myself breathe, letting the hum of chakra around me settle.

 

 

Notes:

Alright, so I chose to make so Aoba and Raidou are in the year above them instead for the ages to make sense but for everyone else here are the current ages, some might be just a few months from their birthdays though.
Gai 5
Obito 5
Ebisu 8
Ibiki 6
Kurenai 5
Genma 8
Kikyō 4
Kakashi 4
Asuma 5
Rin 4
Shizune 5

Chapter 12: The Academy Days Begin

Notes:

Sorry for late update, this took much longer then I thought to write.

Shibata-sensei patiently helped the kids through the writing worksheets, going over the same kanji again and again until even the slowest of them could manage to copy the strokes correctly.

For me—and, I suspected, for the handful of us who finished within the first few minutes—it was mind-numbingly boring. My pencil tapped against the desk as I forced myself to sit still, eyes drifting to the window where the breeze stirred the branches, pink petals floating lazily across the training field.

Every so often, I glanced around the room. Rin was helping Obito, whispering encouragement as he scowled at his paper. Kakashi looked half-asleep, chin propped in his hand, but his chakra was steady, sharp, and ready. Shizune and Saya were quietly reviewing their work, while Asuma had his feet tapping under the desk, clearly ready for this part of the day to end.

At last, Shibata-sensei clapped his hands once. “Good work, everyone. We’ll move on to mathematics now.”

A groan rose from the back of the room, but the worksheets were passed down again, and we bent over our desks as the quiet scratch of pencils filled the air.

Math was another repeat of earlier.

Is this how my next few years are going to be?!

I swallowed, staring down at the neat columns of numbers, my pencil tapping against the corner of the desk. I needed to find something to keep me occupied, something to challenge me, because there was no way I was going to endure years of this mind-numbing repetition.

But I didn’t realize these classes weren’t the worst part of the day until we were finally let out for lunch.

What’s worse than sitting through lessons you’re not learning anything new from?

Socializing.

The classroom emptied into the courtyard, the air filling with chatter and laughter as kids grouped up, pulling out bento boxes or running off to the edges of the field to play. I stayed near the door for a moment, clutching my own lunch, the knot in my chest tightening as I scanned the sea of faces.

They were all strangers. Or, well, not all. Rin was waving at me, already dragging Obito toward a spot under one of the trees, and Kakashi was trailing behind them, hands in his pockets, pretending he wasn’t with them.

I took a breath, forcing my feet to move. This was part of it, too. If I was going to survive the Academy, I had to learn how to exist here, even if it felt like every step toward that tree was heavier than the last.

It was different here. There were no TVs and no chatter about the latest shows or games. Kids didn’t talk about current news; I doubted many of them even read novels—maybe Kakashi, but he didn’t count.

So what did you even talk about with kids your age in this world?

I had no idea where to start.

When I reached them, Rin beamed up at me, patting the spot next to her on the grass. Obito was already halfway through his lunch, crumbs on his cheeks, while Kakashi sat on the other side, opening his bento with deliberate, quiet motions, eyes flicking to me and then away.

“Come sit, Kikyō!” Rin said brightly, like it was the easiest thing in the world.

I hesitated only a second before lowering myself to the grass, before I placed my bento on my lap. The spring breeze ruffled the blossoms overhead, petals drifting down around us.

“So,” Rin started, unwrapping her onigiri, “are you excited to start shuriken practice? My dad said it’s what they usually teach first!”

It said a lot that they went from teaching letters and math to handing weapons to kids.

Obito’s eyes lit up immediately. “Really? I’m going to be the best at it!”

Kakashi snorted, not looking up. “Doubt it.”

“Hey!” Obito shot back, scowling. “You want to bet on it, huh, Kakashi?!”

Their bickering pulled a small, involuntary smile from me.

“It’s going to be interesting,” I replied as I opened my bento.

Inside, the fluffy white rice was topped with a bright red umeboshi in the center, like a small target. A few pieces of tamagoyaki sat neatly rolled beside two golden-brown karaage pieces, edges still crisp. Steamed broccoli and carrot coins added a splash of color, and a small cup of potato salad was tucked into the corner, its creamy surface sprinkled with black sesame.

It smelled warm and comforting, like home.

“Whoa, that looks good,” Rin said, leaning over to peek into my bento with wide eyes.

Obito paused mid-bite, eyes flicking to my lunch before glancing down at his own messily packed onigiri. “Hey, want to trade?” He joked, though the way his gaze lingered on the karaage made me suspect he was at least half-serious.

Kakashi made a quiet, amused sound, shaking his head as he lifted a piece of pickled radish to his mouth, eyes flicking out across the training fields beyond us.

I shook my head lightly, a small smile tugging at my lips. “Maybe next time.”

The breeze shifted, carrying the scent of warm grass and distant dango stalls, and for a moment, the world felt almost simple as we ate beneath the drifting cherry blossoms.

“Why did you think it would be interesting?” Rin asked, circling back to our earlier conversation as she picked at her rice.

I swallowed a bite of karaage, considering. “Well, we have people of different ages in our class, but a few are already way ahead of the rest,” I said, glancing around the courtyard where other groups of kids were eating under the trees. “Some kids are already looking at others… sizing them up.”

Rin tilted her head, blinking. “S-sizing them up? For what?”

“For competition, probably,” Kakashi answered quietly, not looking up from his lunch. “This is a shinobi academy, not a normal school.”

Rin’s brows furrowed, but she didn’t argue.

Obito huffed, popping the last of his onigiri into his mouth. “That’s dumb. We’re all in the same class; what’s there to compete about?”

Kakashi’s eyes flickered toward him, unreadable. “Everything.”

I let the silence settle, the distant laughter of other children mixing with the soft rustle of petals. Kakashi wasn’t wrong. Even now, I could sense it—flickers of chakra tension across the courtyard as some students watched others, trying to measure strength, skill, and potential.

“It will get more obvious during taijutsu and practical lessons,” I murmured, placing my chopsticks down. “When we start sparring, you’ll see.”

Rin shifted uncomfortably, hugging her knees closer. “I just want everyone to get along.”

Obito let out a bark of laughter, scratching the back of his head. “You’re too nice, Rin.”

Kakashi looked out toward the fields, eyes sharp despite the relaxed posture. “Wanting everyone to get along won’t change the fact that we’re training to be shinobi.”

I pressed my lips together, letting the moment settle. He was right. But it was Rin’s soft hope that made the air feel lighter, even if it was fleeting.

“Not everyone can make it to be a shinobi,” I continued, my voice quiet but factual. “People from clan backgrounds, or kids who are second-generation shinobi, already have a leg up on those born to civilians. Unless the civilian-born stand out somehow…”

I trailed off, watching a group of boys across the courtyard trying to balance on the fence while throwing pebbles at a tree. Their chakra was faint and scattered, like unformed clay waiting to be shaped.

Rin’s chopsticks paused, her gaze dropping. “That’s… kind of sad.”

Obito looked like he wanted to argue but didn’t have the words, his mouth opening and closing before he huffed and looked away. “Doesn’t mean they should just give up.”

“They shouldn’t,” Kakashi said, folding his bento box with precise movements, “but that’s the reality. If you can’t keep up, you fall behind. If you fall behind, you don’t make it.”

Rin’s hands tightened around her bento box, and I could see the stubborn spark in her chakra, refusing to accept that so easily.

“Then,” she said softly, “I’ll work even harder so no one gets left behind if I can help it.”

I blinked, surprised, then let out a small breath of a laugh. “You’re too nice, Rin.”

She pouted, cheeks puffing up. “You and Obito keep saying that!”

Kakashi looked at her for a long moment, something soft flickering in his eyes before he glanced away. “Just don’t slow yourself down trying.”

I let the quiet settle for a moment before glancing at Rin. I had been wondering… Nohara was a small clan, one I didn’t know much about. In the scrolls I’d studied with my mother back in Uzushio, I vaguely remembered that they were one of the first few clans to join the Uchiha-Senju alliance, but beyond that, there wasn’t much recorded.

“Ne, Rin… What does your dad specialize in?” I asked, curiosity tugging at my voice.

Rin blinked, chopsticks paused halfway to her mouth, before she tilted her head, smiling softly. “Papa? He’s a field medic. He’s not a doctor like the hospital medics, but he’s good with field first aid, and he can use some medical ninjutsu too.”

“Ah,” I nodded, filing that away. It made sense, explaining the steady calm he carried even in small moments, the kind I’d seen in shinobi who had been to war and returned.

“He says it’s important for shinobi to know how to take care of each other when missions go bad,” Rin continued, her eyes brightening as she spoke about him. “He taught me a little already—like how to clean cuts properly and how to check if someone has a fever.”

“That’s useful,” I acknowledged honestly.

Obito perked up, leaning forward. “Can you teach me too, Rin?”

She giggled, “Only if you promise not to fall asleep during it!”

“Oi!” Obito protested, but there was no bite in it, just a boyish whine that made Rin laugh again.

Kakashi hummed from beside us, looking uninterested on the surface, but I could tell he was listening, his sharp chakra never fully relaxing even as he leaned back against the tree.

I glanced between them, letting my chopsticks hover over my bento for a moment. I might have met Kakashi a few times now, but I was quietly grateful that Rin was including me so naturally, even though we’d only met once before in the park.

Honestly, it was a little surprising. From what I remembered of the story, Kakashi hadn’t exactly been close with them before the Academy. It was different, seeing them like this—Rin’s easy kindness, Obito’s loud energy, and Kakashi’s quiet acceptance forming something like the beginnings of a bond.

I took another bite of rice, letting the soft breeze carry away the tension coiled in my shoulders.

At least I didn’t have to socialize with people I’d never met before. Old life, new life—apparently, being socially awkward was something that followed you across lifetimes.

After lunch, we had shurikenjutsu class. Which made sense in that the Academy wanted kids to start building calluses as soon as possible and didn’t make sense in that they were about to hand actual weapons to children, some of whom probably hadn’t even held a kitchen knife before.

We were guided to another training field behind the academy, a fenced area lined with a few sturdy trees, each marked with targets. Another section had training posts set up with additional targets, the wood worn smooth from years of practice.

“Gather around and listen,” Shibata-sensei called, his voice carrying over the chatter as we shuffled into a loose semicircle. “Today, we’ll be going over the basics of handling weapons—specifically, shuriken.”

His gaze swept across us, sharp and unamused, making a few kids fidget under the weight of it.

“I’ll say this once.” His tone dropped, firm. “If you aim one of these at another student, this won’t just be your first day at the Academy. It will also be your last.”

A few kids gulped. Obito’s hand shot up. “Sensei, what if it’s by accident—”

“Then you will be cleaning the practice field for the next month.” Shibata-sensei’s deadpan reply made a ripple of nervous laughter pass through the group.

Obito’s hand dropped immediately.

“Now,” Shibata-sensei continued, holding up a shuriken between two fingers. The metal glinted in the afternoon sun, a four-pronged star with an open circle in the middle, roughly the size of his palm. “This is a basic shuriken. Shuriken come in different sizes and forms, and you’ll learn to handle the variations as you gain experience.”

He paused, letting us look, a few kids leaning forward to get a better view.

“Your goal today is not to hit the bullseye every time. Your goal is to learn how to hold it properly, throw it safely, and recover it without injuring yourself or others. Precision comes with practice. Discipline comes first.”

He demonstrated, gripping it between his thumb and forefinger, body turned slightly sideways, other hand lifted for balance. The shuriken flicked from his fingers with a sharp, clean motion, spinning before it thunked neatly into the center of the target.

A few impressed murmurs rose.

Shibata-sensei turned back, raising an eyebrow. “Simple enough?”

No one dared to answer, but Obito made a noise that might have been agreement or dread.

“All right. Line up, five at a time.”

We shuffled into lines, the grass soft under our sandals, the faint scent of earth mixing with the metallic tang of the weapons. I flexed my fingers, rolling my shoulders as the familiar itch of anticipation settled under my skin.

Throwing a shuriken was a skill, yes—but it was also instinct, muscle memory, and a rhythm of breath and release.

Shibata-sensei stood to the side, clipboard in hand, eyes sharp as the first five stepped forward. I matched some of the faces to names I remembered from the entrance ceremony.

Asuma Sarutobi went first. Olive skin, short spiky black hair, and brown eyes narrowing as he focused. He threw, the shuriken slicing through the air before embedding in the inner ring of the target, just shy of the center.

Next was Saya Shiroyo, her long purple braid swaying as she stepped forward, black eyes calm and unreadable. Her shuriken flew true, almost hitting the center, only to swerve at the last moment and land just outside it.

Genma Shiranui followed, brown shoulder-length hair tied back, light skin, and brown eyes glinting with quiet confidence. His throw was smooth and practiced, and the shuriken struck dead center with a crisp thunk, earning him a small, satisfied smirk as he stepped back.

Nakazo, one of the older boys, went next. Spiky brown hair, olive skin, and brown eyes fixed on the target with determined intensity. He drew back and threw—and missed completely, the shuriken clattering into the dirt. Shibata-sensei’s eyes narrowed, and Nakazo was forced to retrieve it, trying again under a quiet, pointed correction.

Yutaro Inaba stepped up last, dark green hair falling into equally green eyes, pale skin catching the morning sun. He yawned, not bothering to hide it, before lifting his arm lazily. His throw was casual, almost bored, and the shuriken hit the outer ring of the target with a dull thud.

Shibata-sensei made a note on his clipboard, face unreadable, before calling the next group forward.

Five more students stepped up, their throws varying—some hitting close to the center, others barely catching the target’s edge. Shibata-sensei marked down each result, offering nods or quiet corrections on grip and stance before looking up again.

I glanced at the line ahead, tuning out the chatter around me. Kakashi, Rin, Obito, and I would be up next, with Ebisu just behind us. My fingers brushed over the kunai holster at my thigh, grounding myself as the breeze carried the scent of grass and dust.

When Shibata-sensei finally turned to us, clipboard tucked under his arm, we stepped forward.

Ebisu went first, dark hair neat, sunglasses hiding his eyes, jaw tight with focus. His shuriken flew, hitting the target off-center but solidly.

Obito followed, black hair messy, his eyes narrowed with concentration as he threw. The shuriken wobbled slightly but struck the target, not close to the center, but it stuck.

Rin stepped up next, her brown hair bouncing slightly as she moved, her breath steady as she took aim. Her shuriken flew, hitting around the same area as Obito’s, earning a relieved smile from her.

Then Kakashi stepped forward, silver hair glinting in the light, his expression unreadable as he lined up his stance. He released the shuriken in a single, fluid motion, and it struck dead center with a sharp, satisfying thunk.

Finally, it was my turn.

I breathed out, centering myself as the weight of the shuriken settled in my hand. The breeze brushed past, cool against my skin as I focused, letting my chakra awareness fade to the background. Breathe, focus, release.

The shuriken flew, cutting through the air before embedding in the exact center of the target, the impact ringing clearly in the quiet training field.

Shibata-sensei’s eyes flickered between Kakashi’s target and mine before he nodded once, making a mark on his clipboard.

“Good. Next group.”

The next group walked forward.

Ibiki Morino led the group, tall for his age, with a shaved head and sharp, calculating dark eyes. His face was already set into a perpetual frown, as if annoyed by everything around him. He threw his shuriken with mechanical precision. It landed just inside the inner ring, not quite center.

Kurenai Yūhi followed. She had deep red eyes and black hair tied in a puffy ponytail, her face framed by her bangs. She stood still for a moment, centering herself with a slow breath. Her throw was swift and graceful, the shuriken flying in a smooth arc before embedding slightly left of the center. Her brows furrowed in disappointment, but Shibata-sensei gave a small approving nod.

Gai Might—it was the same kid I saw the day of the exam—bounced in place before stepping up, his thick eyebrows furrowed in dramatic focus, shin-shin-length hair catching the sunlight. He grinned, practically vibrating with energy as he took his stance. His throw was powerful—but wild. The shuriken hit the target with force, but near the outer edge, wobbling slightly on impact. He gave a sheepish thumbs-up anyway.

Shizune Katō was next. Quiet and composed, with short black hair and soft brown eyes. She hesitated for just a second, hands tightening around the shuriken, before exhaling and throwing. It landed in the middle ring. She didn’t react much; she just stepped back calmly.

Last was Chikara Ōnishi, a broad-shouldered boy with dusky skin and short, unruly gray hair. He had a stubborn look on his face, like he’d rather be doing anything else. His throw was rushed and not quite aligned, and it hit the lower part of the target, nearly missing. He clicked his tongue and looked away as Shibata-sensei marked something down.

“Next,” the instructor called, already looking at his clipboard.

“This is boring,” Obito muttered under his breath, leaning slightly toward Rin and me.

I glanced at him. “What?”

“It is,” he said, crossing his arms. “Throwing one shuriken is easy.”

Kakashi let out a quiet hum beside us, already pulling a small book from his pocket. “Maybe say that after you hit the center of the target.”

Obito scowled. “Tch. I was just off by a little!”

“A little,” Kakashi echoed, not even looking up. “Sure.”

Rin giggled quietly behind her hand. I smiled, rolling my shoulders again, the tension easing from my arms. Around us, the next group was stepping up, each one bracing themselves under Shibata-sensei’s sharp gaze. The soft thunk of shuriken hitting wood echoed again.

They finished with mixed results—some decent, some far off the mark.

Shibata-sensei turned to us, his eyes scanning over the class.

“Well done, everyone,” he said. “Kakashi, Kikyō—you two had the best form. Good job.”

Obito scowled, clearly annoyed at Kakashi being singled out again. Kakashi, for his part, looked both smug and impossibly nonchalant, as if the praise had been expected all along.

I guess their rivalry really did start before Rin ever started crushing on Kakashi.

I noted it quietly, more amused than anything. The compliment didn’t matter much to me. I was older—mentally, at least. Eventually, they’d all catch up. One day, they might even surpass me. That was just how time worked.

We continued shuriken practice for the next hour, the steady rhythm of metal hitting wood filling the training yard. At some point, I found myself standing beside Rin, watching as Kakashi and Obito took turns throwing at the targets.

That’s when I felt it—a presence behind me. I didn’t think much of it. We were just kids in a class, after all. No one would actually—

My thoughts cut off as a sharp tug yanked my head back.

Someone had pulled my hair.

I turned sharply, eyes narrowing, and came face-to-face with a smirking boy flanked by two of his friends. I recognized them from earlier—Tsuratan, Keyori Haratagi, and Hyonsei Amiyomi. They’d been part of the third group during shuriken practice—the group that had either missed entirely or barely grazed the target.

Tsuratan stood at the center, green hair tied back into a low tail, his dark silver eyes sharp and mocking. Beside him was Keyori, broader than the others, with cropped dark brown hair, tanned skin, and unreadable brown eyes. Hyonsei lingered just behind them, thin and wiry, his ash-grey hair hanging over his forehead and pale grey eyes watching, almost bored.

Their expressions made it clear; they thought this was funny.

“What was that for?” I asked, voice quiet, eyes narrowing.

Tsuratan shrugged with exaggerated innocence. “Oh, I thought I was grabbing some tomatoes,” he said, a smirk curling on his lips. “Then again… it looks more like a really red tanuki.”

His two friends chuckled behind him.

Rin, standing beside me, stepped forward with a glare. “Leave her alone, Tsuratan.”

Was I really about to deal with bullies? It seemed so.

Was I able to reply with something smart?

No.

Social anxiety, my old friend. You made it to my second life too, huh?

I felt the burn of irritation crawling up my spine—not at them, but at myself. My hands clenched at my sides. I’d faced down demons in my old world—well, metaphorical ones—but here I was, letting a snot-nosed brat tug my hair and get away with it.

Tsuratan laughed again, not even at anything in particular. Just loud, like he thought he was the main character. “What, cat got your tongue? You talk big when Sensei’s watching, but you’re quiet when we’re not.”

I was quiet because if I opened my mouth, I wasn’t sure what would come out. Rage? Snark? Tears? Ugh.

Before I could even think of a comeback, Rin stepped forward, shielding me a little. “Back off,” she said, her voice low. “Or I’ll tell sensei.”

That shut them up for a heartbeat.

Then—

“Oooh, scary,” Keyori mocked, though he took a half-step back. “Whatever. We’ll see how tough you are when we’re in a real mission.”

Hyonsei snorted. “If she even makes it to Genin. Doubt they let outsiders graduate.”

They walked off, still laughing like they’d won something. They hadn’t. Not really.

Rin turned to me, frowning. “Are you okay?”

I forced a smile and nodded. “Yeah… thanks.”

But inside, I was… angry? Upset? I didn’t know what to call it. Just that it sat heavy in my chest like a stone I couldn’t cough up. Something hot simmered behind my ribs—shame? Helplessness? No, it was the old feeling, the one I hated most: powerlessness.

“Ignore them,” Rin said, quieter this time. “They’re just jealous. You and Kakashi hit the target better than anyone.”

I nodded again. The lump in my throat didn’t move.

Was this what childhood really felt like? I'd forgotten. Or maybe I’d never known it in the first place. A world where everything was loud and unfair and confusing, and it didn’t matter how smart you were if your voice wouldn’t come out.

Later, I’d be able to laugh about it. Maybe. But for now, I was still standing in a schoolyard full of sun and shadows, wondering if I really belonged here—if I ever had.

Class continued. After Shurikenjutsu, we moved on to physical training. Shibata-sensei barked orders like he was running a platoon, not a class of six-year-olds.

"Ten laps!" he called. "Pace yourselves. No walking."

Groans rippled through the class, but no one dared argue. Not out loud, anyway.

I fell into a rhythm with the group, feet pounding against the packed dirt, the sun overhead already starting to make my skin prickle. Rin kept close, her expression focused. Kakashi ran ahead without looking back, as if the world didn’t exist behind him. Obito was already complaining under his breath.

"How is this ninja training?" he muttered, dragging his feet on lap three. "We’re not in a marathon."

Someone ahead laughed. It might’ve been Gai. Or maybe just the wind through the trees.

I didn’t answer. I just ran.

One foot in front of the other.

The ache in my legs helped distract me from the ache in my chest.

Every so often, I’d catch sight of Tsuratan and his little pack. They didn’t look at me. Not directly. But I could feel their glances, quick and smug and silent. That same heat returned—curling low in my belly, twisting up through my ribs.

But I didn’t lash out. I ran faster.

Shibata-sensei clapped once as we neared the end. “Last lap—push yourselves. Finish strong!”

I did.

I wasn’t the fastest. Not by a long shot. Gai practically flew, his face red with effort but determined as ever. Kakashi kept pace without even breaking a sweat. But I finished right after the two of them.

The school day ended after a few more exercises. Rin and Obito left together with Rin’s dad. I was standing with Kakashi quietly about to leave when his dad showed up.

I glanced up as I sensed Sakumo’s chakra. He approached us smiling. “Kakashi, Kikyō,” he greeted, smiling. “How was your first academy day?”

“Boring.” Kakashi replied with a blank look. “They taught us baby stuff.”

“Technically it wasn’t, baby, but yeah, it was a little boring.” I sighed.

Sakumo chuckled, the corners of his eyes crinkling. “I wouldn’t underestimate the basics. A strong foundation keeps you alive when flashy tricks fail.”

Kakashi didn’t reply, but I noticed the faint twitch of his lips—almost a smile.

“Still,” Sakumo continued, “it’s good to see you both starting this journey. The Academy years go by faster than you think.” His gaze shifted to me for a moment, steady but kind. “Mito-sama must be proud.”

I shrugged lightly. “She says I’ll be fine as long as I don’t cause trouble.”

“That sounds like her,” Sakumo said with a knowing nod. Then, looking back to Kakashi, he gestured toward the village road. “Come on, dinner’s waiting. Your mother’s expecting us.”

Kakashi gave a short nod. He glanced my way. “See you tomorrow, Kikyō.”

“Yeah. See you,” I replied. I was surprised, though. Kakashi’s mother was alive? She had never come up in the story before.

Instead of walking home to the Uzumaki compound, I started making my way to the Senju mansion to see Mito.

It didn’t take me long to walk through the village as the sky turned orange above. I didn’t have to knock before Amariko opened the front door, smiling.

“Kikyō-chan, how was your first day?” She asked me.

“It was okay, a little boring,” I replied, and she chuckled.

“First days usually are,” Amariko said with a soft laugh, stepping aside so I could enter. The scent of simmering broth drifted from the kitchen, warm and savory, wrapping around me like a blanket.

I slipped off my sandals and padded inside. “Is Mito-sama in the study?” I asked to confirm as I started looking for her chakra.

“She is, but she told me to send you to the garden when you arrived.” Amariko tilted her head toward the back of the house. “Said something about the light being just right this evening.”

The “light” she meant was probably the setting sun spilling through the wisteria trellis. Mito liked to sit there in the evenings, her tea steaming gently while she watched the koi swim lazy circles. I followed the polished wooden hallway toward the sliding doors at the back, the golden-orange glow deepening with each step.

When I slid them open, the first thing I saw was her—straight-backed, serene, her white-and-crimson robes catching the last light of day. A small lacquered table sat before her, two cups already waiting.

“You’re here,” she said, her voice calm but carrying that faint undertone that always made me straighten my posture. “Come. Sit. Tell me what you’ve learned.”

I took my place across from her, fingers curling around the warm teacup. “About the Academy, or… everything?”

Her eyes glimmered faintly in the fading light. “Everything.”

“I have been working on the Shinbunko, but I still haven’t made progress… I am training again though.” I started telling her. “The academy was boring though; it wasn’t anything new… just writing, math, basic shurikenjutsu, and running laps.”

“You’re bound to be advanced for your age,” she replied as she took a sip of her tea. “But the academy is for more than just learning shinobi skills. You also should use the time there to form bonds with others who will become your comrades in the future.”

Her words made me pause. Bonds. In my last life, “bonds” were something I read about in fiction or saw in shows like this world’s original story—but here, they were lifelines. The kind that could mean the difference between surviving a mission or not.

Then I remembered those kids that had pulled my hair. I was still an outsider right now; I had barely been in Konoha, and I barely looked like I fit in.

“I… guess,” I admitted, fiddling with the cup in my hands. “It’s hard to picture it, though.”

She smiled. “Yes, but so was the picture of several clans coming together and living and working together like this one day.” She took a sip of her tea. “It’s those that imagine what can’t be imagined normally that bring changes.”

“Now, for your Shinbunko,” she continued, “let’s practice together today.”

I smiled and nodded. “That would be great, thank you.”

Her eyes softened, but there was a certain sharpness in them now—an undercurrent of purpose that hadn’t been there a moment ago. She set her cup aside with a quiet clink and shifted slightly forward, the change in her posture telling me the conversation was over and the lesson was about to begin.

“Close your eyes,” she instructed, her voice calm but carrying the weight of command. “Breathe. Feel the world around you, not with your senses, but with your mind. The Shinbunko is not merely a seal—it is a doorway. You must learn how to open it without forcing it.”

I obeyed, inhaling slowly. The faint scent of tea leaves lingered in the air, but I pushed it aside, searching deeper. I could feel my own chakra pulsing, steady yet restless, like waves lapping against a shore.

“Good,” she murmured, and I felt the subtle brush of her chakra, precise and deliberate, brushing against mine. “Now, picture the archive. Not as it is, but as it should be. Order it. Shape it. Every seal needs structure. Focus on your chakra flow.”

I tried to imagine a library, a library with high-reaching shelves, endless corridors, scrolls, books, and the like stacked on the shelves.

It was sudden as images started forming, more than what I imagined: scrolls stacked in endless shelves, winding corridors of parchment and ink, and fragments of memories that weren’t mine shimmering at the edges. But the more I reached for them, the more they slipped through my fingers like mist.

I furrowed my brow. “It’s… hard to hold onto it.”

“That is because you’re still trying to own it all at once,” she said, her tone patient but firm. “You cannot claim the entire ocean in a single gulp. You take what you need and return to it again and again until it bends to you naturally.”

I nodded slightly, even as sweat prickled at the back of my neck. The challenge wasn’t just learning the seal—it was making it a part of me, as natural as breathing.

I nodded slightly, even as sweat prickled at the back of my neck. The challenge wasn’t just learning the seal—it was making it a part of me, as natural as breathing.

Her chakra receded, and I opened my eyes to find her watching me with that same knowing smile. “Again,” she said simply.

And so, we began.

><><><><><><><>< 

I had gone home that day; Kushina didn’t come back that night. The next day was much the same morning routine: I woke up, got ready, Hiyama readied breakfast and a bento for me, and I headed to the academy.

The walk to the Academy felt strangely calm that morning. The streets were just beginning to stir, shopkeepers setting out goods, and shinobi passing by on their way to missions. The scent of freshly baked bread from a nearby stall mingled with the crisp morning air.

By the time I reached the Academy gates, clusters of students were already gathering, their chatter buzzing with excitement and nerves. I spotted Rin waving at me from near the entrance.

“You’re early again,” she said with a teasing grin.

“I like being on time,” I replied as we headed inside. “Obito is late again?”

She nodded, chuckling, “I don’t think he’s ever going to be on time.”

We walked together to our classroom. Our teacher was already there, setting out more worksheets at each desk—mathematics today, judging by the numbers scribbled across the top page.

I took my seat near the middle row, placing my bag neatly beside the desk. Rin slid into the chair next to me, already pulling out her pencil. Kakashi was sitting behind us flipping through a book.

“Good morning, Kakashi.” Rin greeted him with a smile; he just nodded back.

The murmur of voices filled the room until the door banged open.

Obito stumbled in, hair a mess, breathing a little heavier than normal. “I’m here, I’m here!” he called, as if that somehow excused his tardiness.

Our teacher gave him a look that was equal parts exasperation and amusement before gesturing to the empty seat in the back. “Sit down, Obito. Quickly.”

The lesson began without further delay. The first few problems on the worksheet were easy—basic addition and subtraction—but they quickly turned into more complex division and word problems. At least, it seemed they weren’t going to go at a snail’s pace when it comes to these basics.

Rin breezed through hers, her pencil flying across the page. I paced myself, making sure each answer was correct. Numbers had a rhythm to them, and I found myself slipping into it like a steady heartbeat.

Halfway through, I noticed Obito staring blankly at his paper, pencil spinning loosely in his fingers. He caught me looking and mouthed, Help me.

I sighed and started helping him quietly as I tried to explain how to do it. Eventually we finished, and the sheets were handed back. It seemed it was going to be a quiet day like any other, when a knock came at the classroom door.

A messenger talked to Shibata-sensei; his face was blank as he turned to look at the classroom before his eyes turned to me. “Kikyō, gather your things; you need to head out.”

As I gathered my things, I heard some snickers from the back seats where Tsuratan, Keyori, and Hyonsei sat. I didn’t know what to expect as I walked to the front; the messenger was a stern man with hair gathered at the back of his head into a spiky ponytail.

“Kikyō, this is Shuro Nara; you should head with him. It will be okay.” Shibata-sensei told me with a pat on the head. But now I was very nervous.

Shibata-sensei’s chakra was confused and worried, while Shuro was very tense, like something very bad might happen. Not just that, I recognized his chakra; he was one of the ANBU that always guarded Mito.

I nodded and followed him as the classroom door closed behind us.

“We’ll head to the Senju compound for now; the Hokage will explain everything there.” He told me as he picked me up without warning, we moved extremely fast.

Body flicker, I was about to feel sick as the world blurred around us as we moved through the village. Eventually we stopped at the door for the Senju compound. ANBU were standing on tense guard. I couldn’t sense any other chakra in the vicinity either, like the area was cleared around the place. Inside Amariko, the Third Hokage, and Mito-sama were the only ones.

By the time Shuro carried me inside the Senju compound, the air felt… wrong.
Heavy.
Like the world was holding its breath.

The Nine-tails chakra I thought, as I swallowed hard, the chakra was leaking into the room, making it hard to breathe. If hate had a physical manifestation, this was it.

Shuro set me down gently, but my legs still felt unsteady from the sudden, dizzying travel.

The moment I stepped in, I saw Mito-sama lying on a futon. Her breathing was shallow, her skin pale. The seal on her stomach glowed faintly, flickering like a dying flame.

Hiruzen’s face was tight with urgency, but his eyes… they were worried in a way that made my stomach twist.

“You’re here,” Mito whispered, her voice barely more than air. “Good…”

I froze, my feet rooted to the tatami. I didn’t like the way she said that.

Shuro stood behind me, tense as a drawn bowstring.

“Mito-sama informed me you are a talented sensor,” Hiruzen started, “and that made you aware of what Mito-sama held inside her.” I nodded. “Kushina was first brought to the village to become the next person to carry this burden, but as the situation has it, she’s still on a mission, and she might not make it back in time.”

Mito’s eyes found mine, and there was something final in her gaze. “Kikyō… I don’t know how much longer I can hold him. If we delay, the beast will break free.”

The air around us seemed to pulse, a deep, hateful chakra leaking from the seal.

“You… want to put it in me?” My voice came out sharper than I intended.

“You’re the only one here who can withstand it,” Hiruzen said. “Your Uzumaki heritage, your chakra… you might be the only chance we have to keep the Nine-Tails contained.”

The room felt smaller. Louder. My heartbeat pounded in my ears.

Mito reached for my hand, her fingers surprisingly warm despite her frailty.
“I will help you… But you must be strong, Kikyō. Stronger than you’ve ever been.”

Before I could reply, the seal on her stomach cracked with a blinding flash.

The roar that followed wasn’t sound. It was fury made real, and it was coming straight for me.

 

Notes:

Will she be the one? will Kushina make it back in time? we'll see!!

Chapter 13: The Nine-Tails Jinchūriki

Notes:

Thank you everyone for so many comments on the last chapter <3 <3 I got pretty motivated and managed to finish this in the weekend, hope you enjoy ^_^

Jinchūriki?! They wanted me to be the freaking nine-tails’ Jinchūriki!

I was shocked; I could sense Mito trying to hold the nine-tails back, but her chakra was fading with her life force.

Kushina should be here. Why wasn’t she here?!

“Kushina should be here, not me. Why isn’t she?” My voice cracked as panic rose in my throat.

No one answered right away. Shuro stood like stone beside the Hokage, his hands clenched tight behind his back. Hiruzen’s jaw tightened, but his eyes… his eyes were the same kind of sorry I’d seen in people who’d already decided something awful.

“We already sent a squad to rush her back,” Hiruzen said, his chakra tense. “But we need to prepare in case of the worst scenario.”

The seal was leaking the nine-tails chakra, Mito-sama’s chakra was fading, and it was a ticking bomb.

What changed? This was never mentioned; this wasn’t… What the hell happened to make Kushina be gone at an important time like this?

“Why isn’t she here?” I demanded, the words snapping out before I could stop them. “If it was something like this, why was she sent out?”

“Now isn’t the time to discuss this,” Hiruzen said firmly. “The preparation is already underway; we’ll hold out for as long as possible on the resealing. In the worst situation, we’ll have to ask of you to become the village’s Jinchūriki.”

My stomach dropped. “Ask of me?” My voice was shaking now, but it wasn’t fear alone—it was anger. “You mean force me.”

Hiruzen didn’t flinch. He just stood there, the weight of the Hokage’s hat making him seem older than I’d ever seen him.

A sudden pulse of malevolent chakra rolled through the air; I could almost imagine Mito fighting to keep the nine-tails in his bonds.

I looked over at Mito; her breathing was shallow. Amariko was wiping her sweat away. Uzumaki didn’t show their age; they aged slower than most, so even in their 60s, they would look ten or twenty years younger, but in that moment, Mito showed all her years.

Her skin was pale, the lines around her eyes deepened, and for the first time, I saw the cracks in the unshakable image of the First Hokage’s wife, the last great pillar of Uzushio. Her hands trembled against the bedsheets, but her grip on the Nine-Tails’ chakra—gods, it was still unyielding.

“Mito-sama…” The word caught in my throat, half a plea, half an apology for even thinking of her as anything other than invincible.

Another surge of killing intent swept through the room, the Nine-Tails’ malice like boiling water under my skin. My instincts screamed to run, to get as far away from that chakra as possible.

Hiruzen’s voice pulled me back. “Kikyō. If Kushina arrives in time, this will not fall on you. But if she doesn’t…” He hesitated. The Hokage hesitated. “…the village cannot risk the Nine-Tails escaping.”

“Risk?” I snapped, turning toward him. “You mean sacrifice. You mean putting me in a cage with a monster I never agreed to hold!”

Shuro’s jaw tightened, but he said nothing. Amariko’s hands paused for just a moment before returning to tending Mito, her eyes not meeting mine.

The truth was in the silence.

I was probably out of my mind to be yelling at the leader of the village, but in that moment, I was too scared and too confused to think straight.

This wasn’t how it was supposed to be…

Hiruzen looked to Shuro with a nod before looking back to me. “Shuro will guide you to the other room while preparation takes place.”

Aka. They were keeping me under surveillance, so I didn’t try to run or something.

Like I could get far; I was four.

I didn’t want this. I wasn’t Naruto, I wasn’t Killer B, and I wouldn’t be able to do anything if I were a Jinchūriki.

Shuro moved forward, steady as stone, and for a second, I hated him for it—for obeying, for not saying anything, for just being calm when my world was falling apart. His hand rested on my shoulder, firm but not cruel. “Come,” he said, in the tone of someone who expected to be obeyed.

He guided me to the living room; I sat down at the table while he stood by the door like a statue, unmoving.

The silence pressed down on me harder than Shuro’s hand ever had. I swung my legs under the chair, the wood too big for me, my feet not touching the floor. Every scrape of my sandals against the chair rung loud in the stillness.

Shuro didn’t look at me. He didn’t have to. His chakra presence filled the room like a wall—solid, unshakable, immovable. Guard, warden, executioner… I didn’t know which role he was playing for me right now. Maybe all three.

I folded my arms on the table and pressed my face into them, wishing I could vanish into the wood. My mind kept looping back to the same thought, over and over.

If Kushina were here, none of this would be happening.

I bit down on my lip until it hurt. Why was she away? Why wasn’t she here when she was supposed to be?

A faint rumble shook through the house—the kind you felt in your bones, not your ears. Kurama again. I lifted my head. Even here, away from the main room, his chakra felt like hot air scraping across my skin.

I can sense the chakra of people moving around the Senju estate, sealing arrays being set up, probably for the sealing, and a barrier in case they needed to try to contain Kurama.

Kushina, please make it back.

I was praying; I was wishing, hoping with everything that Kushina made it back. Mito was probably too focused on containing Kurama to even track Kushina’s chakra, and my range wasn’t nearly big enough to track inside the village, let alone wherever she was.

There wasn’t even a guarantee I would survive having Kurama sealed into me. I swallowed hard; my chest was hurting, the panic rising in my throat.

I am barely thinking straight right now.

Another rumble—Kurama’s fury—rolled through the house. The light from the paper windows wavered, like the air itself was trembling. My prayers tangled with the vibrations, whispered promises I wasn’t sure anyone could hear.

Please. Please, let her walk through that door. Let her make it in time. Let this be a nightmare that ends when she arrives.

But the silence between the shakes stretched long, and Shuro’s stillness felt heavier than stone. He knew. They all knew.

And in that silence, the truth pressed itself against my heart like a blade:

No one was expecting her to come.

><><><><><><><><>< 

A few hours passed; it was the afternoon now. Kurama’s chakra filled every part of the Senju estate now.

Even the non-sensors could feel it. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t block the chakra out. I was lost in a headache from it. The tailed beast chakra was potent, worse than nature chakra, worse than any negative emotion I have ever felt.

It crawled under my skin and burned my lungs with every breath. Every inhale was fire, every exhale ash.

I pressed my palms against my temples, squeezing my eyes shut. Block it out. Block it out. Don’t let it in.

But it was everywhere. The floorboards vibrated with it. The walls sweated with it. Even Shuro’s steady presence by the door seemed thinner, smaller in the flood of killing intent that wasn’t aimed at him but at everything.

My head throbbed like it was splitting in two, and the world tilted sideways. For a moment I swore I could hear Kurama’s voice bleeding through the chakra—low, guttural laughter curling through my skull.

"Another cage. Another child. You’ll break faster than she did."

I slapped my hands over my ears, but it didn’t stop. It wouldn’t stop.

Kurama wasn’t just leaking chakra anymore. He was pressing, searching. Testing.

And I was cracking.

If I somehow survived the process of becoming a Jinchūriki, I’d probably crack from the weight of it anyway. I wasn’t Naruto. I wasn’t Killer B. I couldn’t laugh in the face of hate or turn it into a song.

I couldn’t make friends with a beast that carried centuries of rage toward people like me.

If anything, I’d shatter. My will would fracture like thin glass under the strain, and Kurama would crawl into the pieces left behind. And then… then I wouldn’t be Kikyo anymore. Just a puppet with fox eyes.

My stomach twisted, bile rising in my throat.

What scared me most wasn’t Kurama’s chakra pressing against me—it was the silence of everyone else. The quiet agreement that if it came down to it, if I did break, they’d already written me off as an acceptable loss.

The child sacrifice of the Uzumaki clan. If I failed, I’d be a good placeholder till Kushina was here to become the actual Jinchūriki.

I hated it. I hated them. I hated this entire situation.

I want to go home; I want to go back to Uzu.

I wasn’t the twenty-something woman I had been; I was a child now, a child that just wanted her safe place back.

An ANBU appeared beside Shuro, whispering something to him, before the Nara man turned to me as the ANBU disappeared into the shadows again. “It’s time; come on.”

My stomach dropped, it was hard to breathe, and it was hard to think when the chakra was so suffocating. Shuro picked me up when I didn’t move.

I wanted to struggle against him, but…

What’s the point? I can’t get away… I was just a child, a child with no backing, with no strength. A piece to be used.

My fingers twitched at my sides, nails digging into my palms. I wanted to fight, to scream, to claw at him until he let me down—but what would it change? I wasn’t strong enough to break free. Not from him, not from them, not from this fate.

Shuro carried me down the corridor. Every step brought the burning chakra closer, pressing against my skin like fire. The murmurs of shinobi grew louder, the flare of barrier seals and chakra threads making the air hum.

I turned my face into Shuro’s shoulder, hiding, as if I could block it all out. My breath came fast, too fast, my chest aching with the effort to keep it steady.

I don’t want this.

I don’t want this.

The words echoed in my head like a prayer, but no one was listening.

When we entered the chamber, all eyes turned to me. Sealing specialists, ANBU, and Mito herself—every gaze sharp, expectant, and heavy.

Shuro lowered me to the floor. My knees buckled when they touched the wood, and I had to press my hands to the ground just to stay upright.

The sealing circle sprawled before me, intricate and merciless. I knew enough to understand what it meant. The lines, the kanji, the flow—they weren’t built for me to step back out.

A barrier seal, with a seal transfer, and a chakra transfer with a bindings container for the chakra.

It took a quick look to recognize a lot of the seals around. It wasn’t something too advanced, just something that would do its job.

“Kikyō-chan,” Hiruzen started as he called me. “I know this isn’t what you expected, but you were in the academy with the expectation that one day you’d become a kunoichi of Konoha.” He focused his gaze on me.

I forced my head up to meet his eyes. His voice was soft and calm, the same tone he probably used with frightened orphans. But there was steel behind it, the kind that brooked no refusal.

My chest was tight, my stomach knotted so hard it hurt. The air reeked of ink and chalk, so thick it was like drowning with every breath.

I wanted to scream at them—at Hiruzen, at Shuro, at all of them—for treating me like this wasn’t murder in slow motion. For pretending this was noble, or necessary, or justified.

But the words curdled in my throat. What would it matter? I wasn’t Uzumaki Mito, the First’s wife. I wasn’t Kushina, their bright little hope from the Land of Whirlpools. I was just the leftover scrap of a dead clan. Disposable. Replaceable.

Shinobi were tools. That was the law of this world. A tool didn’t get to protest when it was used.

My nails dug crescents into my palms. I tried to steady myself, tried to breathe, but the weight of the seal circle pressed down on me like a cage already shut.

Mito’s gaze brushed over me, unreadable, and I felt smaller than I ever had. Hiruzen’s words were still gentle, still careful, but they cut deeper than any blade.

This was it. There was no escape.

I was moved by someone from the sealing corps to the other part of the seal, two circles, one where Mito lied and one where I was now. They prepared for the transfer, for the sealing, for the making of a new jinchūriki.

The shinobi of the sealing corps shifted, their movements crisp, mechanical, and terrifying in their certainty. Hands moved in practiced rhythm, forming signs I couldn’t follow.

My circle pulsed faintly beneath me, threads of chakra lighting up like veins, crawling across the wood until they connected with Mito’s. The old woman lay still, but the sheer weight of her chakra pressed against me like the sea, vast and crushing.

Then came his chakra. Kurama’s.

Kurama’s chakra was acting as a barrier for my chakra sensing in its own right, blocking the outside world from me. I couldn’t even check if Kushina was close if I wanted.

“Prepare to start,” the command echoed, and the shinobi shifted in unison, the barrier flaring brighter.

I clenched my teeth until my jaw ached. I wanted to beg them to stop, to cry, to do anything, but the words stayed swallowed in my chest.

><><><><><><>< 

The burning glow of the circle, the weight of chakra pressing in on me—gone in a blink.

I staggered forward and found myself standing on cold stone, the air damp, heavy with a scent like iron and storm. The dim light barely reached the edges of the place, flickering as if it came from no source at all.

And then I saw him.

Kurama.

The Nine-Tails loomed across from me, vast beyond comprehension, yet bound like some grotesque prisoner. Chains thicker than tree trunks nailed his tails to the walls, spikes driven through his arms and legs until they disappeared into stone. His fur bristled like fire frozen mid-surge, each hair alive with fury.

His eyes snapped open.

Silted red, burning brighter than the seal around me ever had.

Hatred rolled off him in waves, a tide that clawed at my skin and my mind alike. The sheer presence of it made my knees want to buckle all over again.

A low rumble filled the chamber, not quite a growl, not quite a laugh—something in between.

“So… this is what they’ve thrown to me,” Kurama’s voice reverberated, shaking the air, the walls, and my bones.

“Silence, Nine-tails!” A familiar voice said as adamantine chains slithered around him. I turned to Mito standing there facing him. “You do make a lot of noise.”

“Mito-sama,” I mutter quietly, my voice almost lost beneath the thrumming of the chains.

She stood with her back straight, her expression carved into something colder than I’d ever seen on her outside this place. The Adamantine Chains extended from her with ease, wrapping around Kurama’s thrashing limbs, glowing faintly with her chakra.

“Don’t look so frightened, child,” Mito said without taking her eyes off the beast. Her tone was calm but sharp—steel wrapped in silk. “This is no place for fear. Stand tall, even if your knees shake.”

Kurama’s lips curled back, revealing teeth as long as I was tall. He pressed against the chains, and the sealed space trembled.

“You presume much, old woman,” he hissed, his voice carrying a venom that scraped at my skin. “Your tricks cannot hold me forever. And when your time is up…” His gaze cut to me, those burning eyes narrowing. “…They send me this scrap of flesh?”

My stomach lurched, every part of me wanting to shrink behind Mito, but the weight of his stare pinned me in place.

I don’t want this.

“He talks a lot, doesn’t he?” Mito sighed before turning to me with a gentle smile. “I didn’t want you to have to do this, Kikyō. Kushina had a lot of time to prepare herself for this, unlike you, but circumstances are what they are.”

She turned to look at Kurama. “He’s a beast of calamity; even if it wasn’t to act as a weapon for the village, he can’t be allowed to roam free.” Kurama snarls at her when she says that.

His snarl shook the ground beneath us, chains rattling with the force of his chakra. The air was so heavy with malice it felt like drowning, like breathing through ash.

I pressed my hands against my ears, but his voice still seeped into me, a sound that was less words and more raw, hateful will.

“Free?” Kurama’s lips peeled back, his voice low and dangerous. “You humans, parasites clinging to a world you defile, dare speak of freedom. You bind, you shackle, you use. And when one vessel breaks, you toss another child to me.” His eyes burned like molten fire as they locked onto mine. “This one will be no different. I will consume her, as I would any of you.”

My chest tightened, the instinct to run almost overwhelming, though I knew there was nowhere to go.

Mito’s hand settled on my shoulder, grounding me. Her smile had gentleness in it, but her eyes never left the fox. “You will try, Nine-tails. That much is certain. But she is not without her strength, nor without my guidance. You won’t devour her.”

Kurama lunged against the chains, the whole seal-space trembling like a struck drum. “You think your chains will last forever, old woman? You think your will can protect her when your body is already dust?”

Mito’s smile faltered, just barely, but her grip on my shoulder steadied. “Forever? No. But long enough.” She looked down at me then, her gaze firm but kind. “Kikyō, listen well. This is no gift and no curse—it’s a burden. One you will hate, but one you must survive. Your life is your own. Don’t let him take it from you.”

I couldn’t nod; I couldn’t talk. It was like my throat closed up and my body froze.

“I had that talk with Kushina before,” she started. “The way a jinchūriki survives is to fill this void with love, child.” She smiled at me. “It might sound weird for shinobi; we are taught to control our emotions, to keep them in check, but jinchūriki are different. We need to fill the void with love to counter the hate from the tailed beasts.”

Her words hung in the air, impossible to grasp. Love?

What did she mean? What love was I supposed to have left?

The Nine-Tails laughed—low, cruel, and knowing.

“Love?” he rumbled, voice vibrating through the chains. “And where will this runt find such a thing? Her home is ash. Her clan, scattered or rotting. What does she have but fear and rage? Tell me, child—” his eyes narrowed, bright and merciless—“what do you have to hold on to?”

My chest burned. The walls of the chamber pressed closer, air strangling. I wanted to scream, to tell him he was wrong, but the words wouldn’t come. Because deep down, part of me knew he wasn’t.

Mito’s hand squeezed my shoulder again, firmer now.

“Don’t listen,” she said softly, though her gaze was locked on him, hard as steel. “He will always try to dig into what hurts most. That is his nature. But you’re Uzumaki. You carry strength in your blood, and with time, you will learn to carry more in your heart. I won’t lie to you, Kikyō—it will be lonely, unbearably so. But if you let others in, if you let them give you their love, it will be enough to endure him.”

Her voice softened, like she was speaking from far away. “It was enough for me.”

The Nine-Tails snarled, tugging against the chains, his chakra pressing like a storm against my skin.

“Sentiment. Always sentiment. You humans are blind if you think love can save you from me.”

My knees buckled under the pressure. I wanted to run. I wanted my father. I wanted my mother. I wanted Uzu.

Instead, all I could do was stand there, trembling, caught between Mito’s warmth and Kurama’s malice.

I wasn’t… I am not strong enough.

“I am not you or Kushina; I can’t do it,” I whisper, scared. “I don’t think I can handle it.”

“You must. We’re the jailers and the guardians.” Mito told me, “We keep the calamity at bay for the sake of the village.”

Her words struck me like cold iron—jailers, guardians.

Not children. Not girls. Not people.

Prison walls, wrapped in flesh.

“But why me?” My voice cracked, trembling in the chamber’s echo. “Why not someone else? Someone stronger? Someone who chose this?”

Mito’s eyes softened, though sorrow lingered in them. “Because there is no one else. Because strength isn’t always chosen—it’s demanded. I never wanted this life either, child. But I bore it, and you will too. Not for glory. Not for honor. For survival.”

The Nine-Tails’ laughter rolled over us like thunder, bitter and wild.

“Listen to her! The old woman dresses chains in pretty words, and you swallow them like medicine. Survival? Ha! You are nothing but a vessel—meat, bone, and fear. You will break long before you bend me.”

My chest seized. I wanted to scream that he was right. That I was too small, too fragile for this. My heart pounded in my ears, tears stinging my eyes.

Mito knelt before me, taking both my trembling hands in her steady ones. Her smile didn’t hide the fatigue etched into her face, but it carried warmth that cut through the storm.

“Kikyō… You are afraid. That’s human. But strength doesn’t mean the absence of fear—it means carrying it and still stepping forward. You don’t have to become me or Kushina. You only need to become yourself.”

Her gaze hardened, voice dropping lower.

“And if you can’t carry that burden for yourself yet… then do it for them. For the ones we lost. For the ones who still live. For the village that must endure.”

Behind her, Kurama’s chakra pulsed, oppressive and mocking.

“You will carry nothing but my hatred, girl. Mark me—your blood will sour, your heart will rot. In the end, you will kneel, and I will be free.”

Mito’s grip tightened.

“No. She will learn to stand. Just as I did.”

><><><><><><>< 

I blinked, and the strange world of chains and killing intent dissolved into the sealing chamber. My body sagged as I realized—I was no longer in the circle. I was being moved aside.

Then I felt it. A chakra flaring like sunlight in a storm. Fierce. Unyielding.
Kushina.

I turned my head just enough to see her standing where I had been moments ago. Her chakra was already locking against Kurama’s, threads of the seal spiraling beneath her.

It hit me all at once—relief, guilt, awe, and something like dread.

Before I could speak, Shuro’s arms guided me out, steady but firm. The doors shut, muffling the last echoes of Kurama’s roar and Kushina’s voice.

The moment the noise faded, so did I. The headache from the beast’s chakra, the strain of standing in that storm, and the pressure of Mito’s words—it all crashed down at once. My legs gave out, and I let my eyes fall shut.

I didn’t want to see anymore.

Didn’t want to feel anymore.

I just wanted this day to end.

><><><><><><>< 

“I finally convinced Sensei and the Hokage to let us take a C-rank.”

That’s what Kushina had said, grinning like she’d pulled off something impossible. She had taken the mission because we needed money—for both of us.

I just sat there, letting her words wash over me. My chest was tight, but for the first time in days my mind wasn’t consumed by the thought of chains and red eyes and the crushing weight of hatred. Without the looming threat of becoming a jinchūriki, I could think again.

And thinking was its own kind of terror.

I had almost derailed everything. Just by being here. Just by existing near her.

It scared me more than Kurama’s killing intent ever could.

The butterfly effect. A butterfly flapping its wings on one coast could cause a storm on another. That’s what I remembered from my other life. Back then it had been a theory. An idea in some textbook.

But now I had seen it. Proof.

Kushina had arrived at the last possible moment. She had stepped in, claimed the burden that had always been hers, and the world had snapped back into place.

But if she had been late—by even a single minute—

The sealing would have been finished.

The jinchūriki would have been me.

And nothing would have been the same.

The day after the sealing, we were kept at the Uzumaki compound. I guess it was to give both of us time to settle down, to adjust.

I hadn’t seen Kushina yet though; we were kept separated for now. I think it was mostly so Kushina could learn to get a handle on the seal, while I was to make sure there was no information leak.

And yes, I did get a talking to, through Hiyama, about how I can’t tell anyone about this, or what happened, or how Kushina is the jinchūriki now.

I was kept home from the academy for the rest of the week—skipping class after only the first half day must be a record—and I didn’t see Kushina except at the end of the week.

When we both were guided to the funeral.

Mito Senju, née Uzumaki. The wife of the late first Hokage had passed away.

The funeral was a grand affair. It was led by Tsunade, who was back now, with also the Third Hokage and the village elders. Almost every clan head and heir was here, all here to pay respect to her.

The air was somber, a different kind of tense from that day with all the tailed beast chakra. The sky itself was mourning the loss of Mito as the clouds blocked the sunlight.

A great woman had been lost after all.

I stayed beside Kushina quietly as the day passed. No one approached us; all were focused on mourning and paying respect. I had only known Mito for a short time, but she had already had an influence on me.

I knew this was coming since I met her; it didn’t make it any easier now as I stared at the frame holding her photo.

I could ask what the point was… But that would be childish thinking.

Mito had lived a long life; she had seen the warring era, she had seen the village formation, she had fallen in love and gotten married, had kids, and seen her grandkids; she had lived through the loss of her husband, her kids, and her clan.

She had a full life of love and loss equally.

She deserved her rest.

><><><><><><>< 

We sat back in the garden of the Uzumaki house. Kushina was keeping her distance. The hum of ANBU guards hiding in the shadows around the place.

My focus, however, was on Kushina. “Why are you avoiding me?” I asked quietly, wondering if I had done something wrong. Did she blame me for not becoming the jinchūriki instead of her? Was it something else?

She looked up at me; she was mourning Mito, of course, but it wasn’t just that. When I looked into her eyes, I flinched.

The nine-tails chakra had leaked, and I had sensed it.

“Wait, it’s not—” I tried to explain quickly, reaching toward her without thinking. But she had already turned her face away, lips pressed thin, jaw tight.

“Kushina—”

“You felt it, didn’t you?” she whispered. Her voice was hollow, breaking at the edges. “That thing inside me. You don’t even have to see it to know it’s there. Everyone will feel it someday. And when they do… they’ll look at me the same way you just did.”

“I didn’t—” I started, but the protest fell flat. Because she was right. I had flinched.

My hand hovered in the space between us, useless, heavy. The weight of her words pressed down on me harder than the presence of the ANBU surrounding us.

“You think I wanted this?” she said suddenly, the sharpness in her tone like a kunai thrown too close. “You think I wanted to be—be a cage?!”

Her breath hitched, and for the first time I realized her hands were trembling. She curled them into fists, digging her nails into her palms as if pain would anchor her.

I swallowed, throat dry. “No. I don’t think that. But you’re still you, Kushina. You’re not just—” I faltered, because what could I even say? “—not just that.”

Her laugh was humorless and brittle. “Tell that to the villagers when they find out.”

“It doesn’t matter what they say…” I started, “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have flinched, but his chakra—I still remember it from that day.” 

Her shoulders stiffened, and I saw the faintest ripple of red chakra shimmer across her skin before she forced it down. “That day…” she echoed, voice low, almost a growl. “You mean when my life got decided for me?”

I winced. “Kushina, I didn’t—”

“You think I don’t remember?” She cut in, eyes snapping to mine. They weren’t just red with grief—they burned with something older, rawer. “The way everyone looked at me when the seal took hold? Like I wasn’t even a person anymore, just a container.” Her hand pressed against her stomach unconsciously, fingers curling in the fabric. “I felt it, you know. The fox’s rage. The way it hated me the instant it was put inside.”

I stayed silent, letting her words hang in the garden air. The ANBU didn’t stir, but I knew they heard every syllable.

Finally, I whispered, “I remember the rage too. That’s why I flinched—not at you, never at you. But at him. I’ll never forget how it felt pressing against my mind. Like drowning in fire.”

Something in her expression cracked at that. For a second, her face softened, vulnerable, before she jerked her gaze away again, muttering, “Then you understand why I don’t want anyone near me. Why it’s safer if they stay away.”

I hesitated—this was the edge. I could let her retreat or step closer and risk being burned by her pain.

“Mito-sama,” she said…“that you need to fill yourself with love.” I started as I remembered her words, our last conversation. “I am sorry I flinched, but we’re family. I am never going to abandon you.”

I moved closer, sitting next to her.

Kushina’s breath hitched, her fists tightening in her lap. For a moment, I thought she would shove me away. The air between us pulsed, hot with the faint tang of the fox’s chakra, and my skin prickled as if standing too close to a fire.

Then… she exhaled, slow and uneven. Her shoulders sagged, the glow fading as quickly as it came.

“Family, huh?” She murmured, not looking at me. “Everyone keeps saying that word like it’s supposed to fix everything. Like it’s enough to smother his hatred, or mine.”

I reached out, resting my hand on hers. Her knuckles were white from clenching so hard, but she didn’t pull away. “It doesn’t have to fix everything. It just has to be a start.”

Finally, she looked at me. Her eyes were still sharp, still wounded, but behind them, I caught a flicker of something—fear. The kind that only shows when you let someone close enough to see you break.

“You don’t know what you’re promising,” she whispered.

I squeezed her hand, steady. “Maybe not. But I’ll still keep it. No matter what happens with him, no matter what the village thinks—you’re not alone in this, Kushina. Not while I’m here.”

Her lips trembled, caught between a scowl and something softer. “…Idiot.”

But she didn’t let go of my hand.

I had hated his chakra, and without the knowledge I knew, I would probably dismiss him like any other person. But I did have the knowledge; I did know where his hatred came from.

“You know,” I started, trying to be careful with my words. “Just like you were forced into this role, the nine-tails, he was forced into you.”

Kushina’s head jerked toward me, eyes flashing. “Don’t you dare compare me to him.”

I didn’t flinch this time. “I’m not,” I said firmly. “I’m saying you both were trapped. Neither of you chose this. You’re carrying his burden, and he’s carrying his own. You said people wouldn’t understand—but maybe you understand him more than anyone else could.”

Her mouth opened like she was about to snap back but then shut again. The words seemed to stick in her throat, leaving her trembling in silence.

I took a breath. “I am just saying,” I started again. staring at the sky getting darker as the sun set. “Maybe talk with him.”

Her sharp inhale broke the stillness. “Talk… with him?” she repeated, almost like the idea was absurd. “He’s a monster, Kikyo. He’ll use my voice, my weakness, anything I give him against me.”

“Or,” I countered gently, “he’ll finally hear something different than hatred.”

For a long moment she didn’t say anything, only stared at the horizon where the last streaks of orange and purple bled into night. Her hand squeezed mine, not in anger this time, but in something closer to fear.

“What if he breaks me?” she whispered, almost too quiet to catch.

I turned to her, firm despite the ache in my chest. “Then I’ll be here to help pick up the pieces. You won’t be alone.”

Her lips trembled, and she looked down, her red hair spilling like a curtain to shield her face. But her voice was steadier when she spoke again. “You really… believe there’s more to him than hate?”

“I do.” My answer came without hesitation. “Because I believe there’s more to you than fear.”

For the first time that evening, Kushina looked at me directly. Her eyes weren’t hard or defensive—they were searching, almost vulnerable.

“…I’ll try,” she said finally, her voice breaking at the edges. “Not for him. Not for Konoha. For me.”

The shadows of the garden seemed to deepen around us, the ANBU still silent and watchful, but in that small circle of space between us, something shifted. Not a truce, not yet—but a beginning.

I could only hope I was helping things be better.

Notes:

I think this might have disappointed a few people, but the path of Jinchūriki isn't the one for Kikyo. but I still hope you liked the chapter.

Chapter 14: New Friends, Rivals, and Enemies

Notes:

I have an English placement test tomorrow for a diploma I'm trying to take. so I used the chance to study by writing this XD. Hope you enjoy ^_^

“No!” I pulled the sliding door closed, trying to use it as a guard between Kushina and me.

“Yes!” she shouted back, shoving against the wood, though I can tell she’s not really using her strength. If she wanted, the whole frame would splinter in seconds.

“Kushina—stop! You’re going to get us both in trouble!”

She laughed—a loud, brash sound that echoed through the hallway. “That’s the point, baka! If we get caught, it’ll be your fault, not mine.”

I groaned, pressing my weight against the door as she pushed again, the wood creaking dangerously between us. For a moment, it felt like we were children wrestling for no reason other than to prove who’s more stubborn. But beneath her grin, I could still see the lingering shadow of yesterday’s pain.

What did Kushina want, you might wonder?

She wanted to sneak out, past the ANBU guards, past the protection of our home. She said she had things she wanted to show me, but still…

I groaned again as I remembered how I had yelled at the hokage and how I had acted during the entire thing.

Thank you very much. I feel secondhand embarrassment for myself.

Kushina shoved again, nearly yanking the door from my grip.

“Come on! Don’t be such a scaredy-cat. You’ll never see the good stuff if you stay cooped up like an old grandma.”

“I am not—” The words caught in my throat. “Besides, we’ll get caught before we even make it past the front gate.”

She smirked, cocky as ever. “Not if we’re smart. You forget, I’ve been sneaking out way before you showed up. I know how to make ANBU blink the wrong way.”

I stared at her, half in awe, half in horror. “That…is not something to brag about.”

But she only grinned wider.

“What’s the worst that could happen?” She crossed her arms, grinning.

“A lecture, imprisonment, kidnapping, execution—”

“Execution?!” She cut me off, throwing her head back in laughter. “Baka, you sound like an old man. What are you, eighty?”

“Emotionally? Maybe.” I shot back, deadpan.

Kushina stuck her tongue out at me, her eyes glittering with mischief. “C’mon. No one’s going to execute us for sneaking out. The worst we’ll get is a scolding—and I’ve had a thousand of those already. You get used to it.”

I crossed my arms. “I don’t want to be lectured.”

“Come on, between your chakra sensing and mine, they can’t catch us.” She egged me on as I took a step back.

If I ever wondered why Naruto was so good at escaping ANBU, well, he got it from her.

I rubbed my face, torn between dread and the tiniest flicker of excitement. “This is a terrible idea.”

“Terrible ideas make the best memories,” she shot back instantly, smug as ever.

“You sound like someone who’s never faced an angry Hokage.”

Kushina snorted. “Hiruzen’s lectures? Pfft. I can take him. You think I’m scared of an old man in a hat?”

“...You should be.”

But even as I said it, I felt my resolve slipping. Her grin widened, knowing she had me.

I huffed, “How many do you sense?” I asked.

Her grin was the widest it could be now. “Two in the garden, two at the front door.”

“There are two more at the south gate, one at the north wall, one at the east wall, and one at the west wall.” I added.

Kushina’s eyes lit up. “Perfect. We can take the south wall—slip past the ones in the garden while they’re distracted.”

I pinched the bridge of my nose. “Distracted? By what?”

She gave me a look that was all teeth and trouble. “Leave that to me.”

“Why do I feel like that’s the most dangerous answer you could’ve given?”

But she was already bouncing on her toes, restless energy pouring off her like fire. I sighed. Somewhere in my chest, a knot of dread twisted tighter—but right next to it, something else sparked. Excitement.

A few minutes later, a boom cracked through the night from the north gate. The ground trembled under our feet, and a plume of smoke curled into the sky. Harmless—loud and messy, nothing more—but effective.

“See?” Kushina whispered, her grin practically glowing in the dark.

I didn’t have time to argue. We both felt it: the ANBU chakra signatures shifting, darting toward the explosion.

“Go!” she hissed, and we bolted.

Our sandals slapped against the stone as we sprinted for the south gate, breath quick, hearts quicker.

We tore through the south gate, laughter bubbling up in my throat despite the pounding in my chest. The air outside felt different—cooler, sharper, alive.

“Ha!” Kushina pumped her fist, scarlet hair flying behind her like a victory banner. “Told you it would work!”

“Yeah, well, I’m blaming you when we get caught!” I called back to her.

“EHHH? You wouldn’t dare, dattebane!!”

I stuck my tongue out at her, still running. “Watch me.”

“Oh, I will! And when you try, I’ll just tell them it was all your idea.” She puffed up her cheeks dramatically, clearly enjoying herself.

I gasped, mock-offended. “Traitor!”

“Survivor,” she shot back with a mischievous grin.

We finally slowed, lungs burning, until we collapsed side by side beneath a tall pine just outside the village walls. My heartbeat thudded in my ears, but I couldn’t stop smiling. The night sky stretched endless above us, stars scattered like shuriken thrown by some giant hand.

“See?” Kushina nudged my shoulder with hers. “Totally worth it.”

I snorted. “Yeah, yeah.” I enjoyed the sunlight on my face and the breeze passing through. “So where to?”

“This way!” Kushina hopped up, dusting off her knees and pointing dramatically toward the winding path that led deeper into the woods. “Adventure awaits, dattebane!”

I groaned, dragging myself to my feet. “That doesn’t sound ominous at all.”

“Don’t be such a scaredy-cat,” she teased, grabbing my wrist and tugging me along before I could protest further. “C’mon! There’s this spot at the top of the Hokage Mountain—you can see the whole village from the cliffside. Hardly anyone knows about it.”

My eyes narrowed. “And how exactly do you know about it?”

She smirked. “I did say I snuck out once or twice before…”

I sighed, shaking my head but letting her pull me forward anyway.

We snuck through the village, avoiding figures hidden in the shadows as we did. Between the two of us, no one could escape our chakra sensing. When we reached the foot of the Hokage Mountain, Kushina didn’t guide me to the trail; instead, I found myself being pulled up the mountain.

Like walking straight up.

“What’s the point of knowing ninja tricks if you don’t use them for fun!” She declared as we walked up before reaching the top of the mountain.

My stomach lurched as I glanced down. The village looked so much smaller from here, lantern lights twinkling like fireflies against the dark. “Fun? More like terrifying,” I muttered, pressing closer to the rock face even though chakra kept me firmly stuck.

Kushina only laughed, hands behind her head like she was strolling through a park. “C’mon, where’s your sense of adventure? Dattebane!”

When we finally pulled ourselves over the top, the night wind rushed past us, cool and freeing. The whole Hidden Leaf stretched out below, rooftops stacked like puzzle pieces, the forests wrapping around it like a protective cloak.

Kushina spread her arms wide, grinning at the view. “See? Totally worth it!”

I couldn’t argue—not with the stars above, the village lights below, and her laughter still ringing in my ears.

We both sat down, watching the village and the sky.

“Ne, Kushina…” I started asking as the events of the last few days played in my mind. “Do you…actually like Konoha?”

I couldn’t get the thought out of my mind after all.

It was one day… For me it had been one day that I was treated like that, like I wasn’t even human. That I was just there to be a tool to be used.

Like my life didn’t matter.

Kushina, on the other hand, had been brought here for that one purpose; she had been taken from her home, from her family and friends. Brought here just to be a tool.

The clan had let it happen; Konoha had accepted it.

All that talk about the will of fire, about protecting the children, and they were the first to be sacrificed.

Kushina leaned back on her hands, tilting her head as if considering the question. For once, her grin faltered.

“...Honestly?” She murmured, eyes fixed on the glowing village below. “No. Not yet.”

The wind tugged at her hair, making it flicker like fire in the starlight.

“They didn’t bring me here because they wanted me. They brought me here because they needed me.” Her fists curled in the grass, voice sharpening. “And sometimes… sometimes I think if it wasn’t for the Nine-Tails’ container, nobody would even look my way.”

Her words dug deep, mirroring the ache twisting in my chest.

“But—” she turned to me suddenly, eyes blazing, the fire I always saw in her back in full force. “That just means I’ll make them see me. I’ll make this place mine, dattebane! They don’t get to decide who I am. I am going to be the first female Hokage this village has seen.”

The conviction in her voice hit me like a spark, lighting against the bitterness in my own chest.

For a moment, I envied her—how she could take all that pain, all that loneliness, and burn it into something fierce and unshakable.

“And then…” She continued, “No kids will be treated like I was.”

Her voice cracked just slightly at the end, but her eyes never wavered from the village below.

And sitting there beside her, I realized—this wasn’t just bravado. This was Kushina’s promise, her vow. She wasn’t only chasing a dream; she was building a future where kids like us wouldn’t have to wonder if they mattered.

“I…I don’t like it here.” I confessed quietly.

It didn’t matter if I knew what the village would face or the possible future I knew. If it was up to me, after living in this world for the last three years, I would just stay in Uzushio.

If it still existed.

I wouldn’t have interfered; I wouldn’t have… It wasn’t my fight; it wasn’t my…

“…It wasn’t my fight, it wasn’t my…” My throat tightened, the words dissolving before I could finish.

For a while, the only sound was the grass rustling around us and the faint hum of cicadas. I didn’t dare look at her—I didn’t want to see pity in her eyes.

But when Kushina finally spoke, her voice was steady. “...Tch. I get it. Believe me, I do.”

I glanced at her then, and her expression wasn’t pity at all—it was fire, smoldering under the softness.

“You think I wanted this?” she asked, jabbing a thumb at herself. “To be dragged here, treated like a vessel and nothing else? If I had a choice, I’d be back in Uzushio, eating my mom’s cooking and running around with my friends. But I don’t. And you don’t either.”

Her hands curled into fists in the grass. “So, if this is where we are… then we make it ours. We take it back. Piece by piece, until it feels like home. And anyone who thinks we’re just tools—dattebane—they’ll choke on their words.”

“How are you so…you?”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” I yelp as she pulls me in with an arm around my neck as she rubs my head. “Brat!”

“Stop it! Stop it!”

I squirmed, laughing despite myself as her knuckles dug into my scalp. “Kushinaaa! Quit it!”

She finally let go, smirking with that wild, toothy grin of hers. “Don’t ask dumb questions then. I’m me because—well—who else am I supposed to be, huh?”

I rubbed at my head, still scowling, but the ache in my chest didn’t feel as sharp anymore. Somehow, in her ridiculous way, she made it lighter.

Kushina plopped back into the grass. “Someday, you’ll get it.” She tilted her head toward me. “But until then—you’ve got me. Dattebane.”

><><><><><><>< 

We did get caught at the end. They had to bring in a Hyūga to track us with his Byakugan, but honestly? That just showed how good we were.

Of course, the adults didn’t see it that way.

We got dragged to the Hokage’s office—grass-stained, out of breath, and with Kushina still grinning like she’d just won something. Me? I tried to look small and innocent. Didn’t work.

The Sandaime sat behind his desk, pipe in hand, exhaling a cloud of smoke that made the room feel heavier. His gaze flicked over us, sharp and knowing.

“Kushina. Kikyō.” He said our names with that deep, tired voice that made my stomach drop. “Do you two have any idea how much trouble you’ve caused tonight?”

Kushina crossed her arms, lips twitching like she wanted to argue—but one glance from him shut her right up.

I swallowed hard.

I looked away. When I looked at him, I could only see his gaze from that day.

It still scared me.

Kushina, on the other hand, had the expression of someone who regretted nothing. The old man’s sigh filled the silence, heavy with smoke. He leaned back in his chair, tapping the ash from his pipe.

“You two…” His voice wasn’t angry, not exactly. Just… tired. “Causing an explosion, sneaking past guards. scaling rooftops and the Hokage Mountain. Forcing me to summon a Hyūga in the middle of the night…”

His gaze landed on Kushina first, sharp as a kunai. She didn’t flinch. Then it turned on me, and my throat closed up. That same gaze from before—the one that had looked at me not as a child, but as a tool.

My hands fisted at my sides. Not again.

Hiruzen studied us for a long moment before the lines around his eyes softened, just slightly. “You’re children. And children should not be treated like criminals. But you need to understand your positions now.”

I didn’t know why I was being kept at home with Kushina.

Beside me, Kushina just shrugged, all restless energy and unshaken fire. “Tch. I get it, I get it. Don’t cause trouble. But we didn’t do anything wrong—we just wanted to see the village.”

The Hokage’s brows drew together, but she pressed on anyway, bold as ever. “If that’s enough to drag us here in the middle of the night, then maybe the problem isn’t us.”

I stared at her, wide-eyed. Only Kushina would talk back to the Hokage like that. Only she could make defiance sound like a dare and a plea at the same time.

“Kushina, you must understand now, you’re not just you; you’re not just a normal kunoichi anymore,” Hiruzen started. “You’re the nine-tails jinchūriki; your survival is paramount to not only keeping the village safe but also keeping the power balance.”

Kushina’s mouth twisted, her arms tightening across her chest. “Tch. I’m not some stupid balance scale. I’m me—Kushina Uzumaki, dattebane. You can’t just tell me I’m only a cage for that fox.”

Her voice cracked at the edge, though she forced it into a glare.

I wanted to reach out, but my fingers dug into my knees instead. Because she wasn’t the only one being told who she had to be.

Future clan head. Symbol of survival. Tool.

A backup.

Words that felt like bars, closing around us both.

Hiruzen’s sigh was quiet but heavy. He looked older then, weighed down by things we couldn’t see. “I don’t expect you to like it. But you will live with it. Because if you don’t, this village will pay the price.”

He gestured for someone, and an ANBU appeared behind us. “You’ll be escorted home for now, and you’ll stay there.” He looks between the two of us. “Kikyō, you will start going to the academy again starting tomorrow.”

><><><><><><><>< 

We headed back that night, with Kushina cursing, muttering, and stomping all the way.

The next morning came far too quickly. My feet dragged on the way to the Academy; my stomach twisted in knots.

God, I’m about to be the kid that disappeared for a week with no known reason.

I hoped and prayed no one would react, but shinobi—in training or not—love gossip.

I arrived as early as I could, hoping the emptiness of the classroom would swallow me whole. Only four other kids had beaten me here: Kakashi, with his ever-present book; Saya, perched primly at her desk; and two boys—Togakure and Shomao—already whispering to each other.

I made a beeline for my usual spot in the middle row, the bench I always shared with Rin and Obito. Sliding into it felt like trying to pretend things were normal when they weren’t.

“Morning,” I muttered, just loud enough for Kakashi behind me to hear.

“Morning.” His reply was quiet and automatic—but then he added, without looking up from the page he was flipping through, “Rin was worried.”

I swallowed and nodded. “You told her?”

After all, Kakashi had been at Mito’s funeral with his dad, even if we hadn’t spoken. The official story was that Kushina and I stayed at home in mourning. We were her second-closest family by blood—the Uzumaki remnants, the clan that still lingered here. Tsunade was the closest, as her granddaughter.

Kakashi turned a page, eyes skimming like it was the most important mission report in the world. “Didn’t need to. She guessed.”

I nodded, pulling a scroll out too, just to keep my hands busy. My eyes drifted over the words without really taking them in. “Did I miss anything important with the lessons?”

He flipped another page, calm as ever. “No. Just beginner stuff.”

A tiny breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding slipped out. Good. At least here, I wasn’t already behind. Socially, though—that was another battlefield entirely.

The classroom was starting to fill as everyone arrived. Voices rose, the low hum of chatter filling the air like static.

I kept my eyes glued to the scroll, but I could feel the glances, the way conversations shifted when they walked past me.

Obito barreled through the door a minute later, with Rin right behind him. I braced myself.

“Kikyō!” Obito’s voice carried like a kunai tossed at the wall, loud and careless. Half the class turned to look.

Heat rushed to my face as every head seemed to swivel in my direction.

Rin elbowed him, hard, whispering something I couldn’t hear.

But the damage was done.

Maybe I should be the one to drop a boulder on him.

I ignored the intrusive thoughts as Rin led him to the bench where I sat. “Kikyō, we missed you,” she told me as she took the seat beside me, while Obito rubbed the back of his head.

“Sorry,” he muttered, scratching his head like he wanted to crawl under the desk and vanish.

I exhaled slowly, forcing the tightness in my chest down. “It’s fine,” I said, softer than I meant to.

Rin leaned closer, her expression careful but kind, like she was afraid I might break if she pressed too hard. “Everyone’s been wondering,” she whispered, “but you don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”

Obito perked up, already opening his mouth to add something, but Kakashi’s flat voice cut in from behind me.

“She doesn’t.”

The silence that followed was sharp enough to cut paper. A few kids shifted uncomfortably, attention snapping back to their own desks.

I wanted to thank him. I also wanted to bury my face in my arms and disappear.

“I am fine. Everything is fine.” I assured Rin, who didn’t look convinced. “So, what did I miss?”

“Oh, well, you missed a few classes: writing, math, and we started on basic taijutsu too.” Rin started listening, allowing the topic to change. “Oh, also we had the first kunoichi class with Sakura-sensei.”

“What was the class about?” I asked. Of all the things Rin listed, that was probably the one I might actually need.

Rin’s mouth twitched like she wasn’t sure if she wanted to laugh or roll her eyes. “Poise. Walking in a straight line with a book on your head, balancing a tray, that kind of thing.”

I blinked. “That’s… a shinobi skill?”

Obito immediately leaned over, grinning. “It’s important! If you’re carrying dango into an enemy hideout, you can’t just trip and faceplant, right?”

I stared at him. “That’s your takeaway?”

Rin giggled, covering her mouth with her hand. “Sakura-sensei said it’s about control. If you can carry yourself calmly in one place, you can do it in battle too.”

Kakashi, from behind me, muttered without looking up, “Or you could just learn to fight properly.”

That earned him a sharp tsk from Rin, a pout from Obito, and—for me—one more reason to bury my face in my arms.

“I have to agree with Kakashi on this.” I told her, "Was I surprised? Even in the shinobi world, there was a way to treat women differently." Nope. “I mean, if she explained it being a good way to mix in with nobility during infiltration, then it would have made more sense.”

Rin tilted her head, thoughtful. “...She did mention that, actually. About disguises and blending in. But she also said grace is a weapon too.”

Obito snorted. “Yeah, right. I’ll take a kunai over grace any day.”

Kakashi finally looked up from his book, eyes flicking between us. “That’s because you trip over your own feet without one.”

Obito squawked, red-faced. “Hey!”

I hid my smile behind my hand. As much as the whole idea grated on me, maybe Rin was right—control was a weapon. But still, if someone tried to make me walk around with a book balanced on my head again, I was going to lose it.

Guess I will find out on Tuesday.

“It was fun with the class being only girls too.” Rin continued, “Ume spent the rest of the time collecting flowers and showing us how to make flower crowns. Saya was mostly quiet on the other hand, while Yano and Ennonore kept to themselves. Shizune and Kurenai are who I want to introduce you to; they’re the best.”

She listed all the girls in our class.

I nodded along, storing names and impressions away. A flower-crown group sounded harmless enough—until you remembered half those girls would someday throw kunai with the same hands.

“Shizune’s really smart,” Rin went on, eyes lighting up. “She already knows a bunch about medicine because of her uncle. And Kurenai… well, she’s quiet, but she notices everything. You’ll see.”

I hummed, noncommittal. New people. More names. Another battlefield.

I blinked, though, as I realized something.

“Her uncle?” I wondered, was Dan alive?

“Her uncle?” I echoed, my tone a little sharper than I meant.

Rin nodded, oblivious. “Yeah, she lives with him. He’s really nice; she mentioned his name was Dan. He even came to pick her up one day.”

Dan. Alive. My stomach flipped. Of course, he would be; we weren’t there yet. Still, hearing it out loud—so casual, so normal—made my chest tighten. All I could picture was Tsunade’s face years from now, the loss she hadn’t lived through yet.

I forced my voice light. “Right. Makes sense.”

Kakashi’s mother and father were still alive. Dan was still alive. People I knew were destined to die, and I had no idea how to save them. If I even could.

Meanwhile, Rin kept talking, her grin bright as she listed off every little fact she’d gathered. “Kurenai lives with her mom and dad—her dad’s the chunin commander. Ume’s parents are civilians. Saya lives with her mom, but she didn’t really say much. Yano and Ennonore didn’t share either, but they’re Kurama, so maybe that’s why they were keeping to themselves.”

I hummed again, forcing myself to nod like I was simply listening.

Shibata-sensei chose that moment to make an appearance, sliding the door open and stepping inside. His mere presence was enough to still the chatter.

“Good morning, class. Today we’re going to start on accessing your chakra.”

The words landed like a spark in dry grass. A ripple went through the room—excited whispers, wide eyes, nervous shifting.

“Those that already have access to your chakra, please raise your hands.” He asked, eyes sweeping over the classroom.

A few hands—including mine—shot up. Our class had 23 students; 11 of us raised our hands.

That list consisted of myself, Kakashi, Rin, Obito, Saya, Kurenai, Asuma, Shizune, Shinijiro, Ennonore, and Yano.

“Well, that’s about half the class. You can put your hands down.” He noted

I lowered my hand, glancing sideways as if I could read the others who’d raised theirs. Some were smug. Some were calm. Some were practically buzzing.

“Can one of you explain what a chakra is?” Shibata-sensei asked, his gaze sweeping the room.

A beat of silence stretched. Then Rin’s hand shot up, bright and eager. “It’s… it’s the energy inside us, right? The thing that lets us do ninjutsu and heal people!”

Sensei gave her a small nod. “That’s part of it. Anyone else?”

Kakashi spoke without raising his hand, his voice flat. “It’s the fusion of physical energy from your body and spiritual energy from your mind. Too much of one or the other and you lose balance.”

A few kids blinked at him, clearly not expecting the textbook answer. Shibata-sensei’s lips twitched like he was suppressing a smile. “Correct.”

Shibata-sensei moved on, letting the silence settle back into the room.

Sensei proceeded to go over chakra concepts while asking questions to those who raised their hands, probably in a way to confirm they did know what chakra really is.

Then it was the practical part; he started helping the others get access to their chakra while the rest of us sat there.

The class—like the ones before—was boring. Painfully boring. I wasn’t the only one suffering either. Side conversations sprouted almost instantly among the half of us who already knew what we were doing.

I tugged my scroll from my bag, unrolling it across my desk. The neat lines of ink and sealing formulas were far more interesting than watching classmates sweat over something I could already do in my sleep. Out of the corner of my eye, Kakashi had produced one of his tiny books, nose buried deep enough that he might as well have been invisible. Rin and Obito were leaning close together, whispering furiously, their heads nearly bumping.

Shibata-sensei either didn’t notice or didn’t care. He crouched by each student in turn, murmuring quiet corrections. A few gasps and frustrated groans broke the silence every so often. The air had the strange tension of half the room struggling for enlightenment while the other half drifted into distraction.

I tapped the end of my pencil against the margin of my scroll, letting my focus sink into the lines. If this kept up, I was going to finish the entire section on storage seals before lunch.

It was a scroll I had gotten from Mito-sama before…before she died. My chest tightened at the thought, and I had to blink hard to keep the words from swimming.

Storage seals were interesting—too interesting. They weren’t just tricks for hiding weapons like most people thought. They were classified as time-space seals, tiny doors to folded dimensions. Entire worlds compressed into paper and ink. I traced the characters with my eyes, picturing the lines not as strokes of ink but as locks and hinges to unseen doors.

The idea made the classroom fade—the whispers, the groans, even Shibata-sensei’s voice dimmed until all that existed was the neat curl of kanji and the puzzle of space bent to human will.

I didn’t even realize how much time had passed until a hand shook my shoulder. I startled, the seal patterns dissolving in my mind like mist as I looked up into Rin’s smiling face.

“Kikyō, class is over.”

I blinked, forcing myself back into the present, and rolled the scroll shut with careful fingers before slipping it into my pack. “So… lunch?”

“Yup!” Rin grinned, looping her arm through mine like it was the most natural thing in the world. “Let’s go!” She cheered, already tugging me toward the door with the kind of energy I could never hope to match.

We headed to the usual tree, Kakashi and Obito trailing behind us. Except this time, it wasn’t just us.

Already seated under the shade were Shizune, Kurenai, and Asuma, bento boxes open, chatting like they belonged there.

I slowed without meaning to. Our spot.

Rin, of course, didn’t hesitate—she just tugged me forward with that same easy smile.

“Yeah, they started eating lunch with us,” she explained when I shot her a questioning look.

Kakashi grimaced—somehow more eloquent with a mask than most people were with their whole face—while Obito plopped down without a care.

“Everyone, this is Kikyō. Kikyō, this is Shizune, Kurenai, and Asuma,” Rin said brightly, gesturing between us like she was stitching threads into a single web.

I nodded politely, letting my eyes flick over them one by one.

Shizune gave me a shy smile, fingers fidgeting around her chopsticks.

Kurenai’s gaze was steady, curious in a way that made me feel like she was already memorizing me.

Asuma just offered a lazy wave, grinning crookedly like he’d been caught doing something he shouldn’t.

“Hey,” I said simply, because I wasn’t sure yet what else to say.

Rin tugged us down onto the grass, and the familiar weight of my bento box settled into my lap. She was already halfway through introducing a new topic before the lids were fully off, her voice bright against the rustle of leaves above.

Kurenai added comments here and there, thoughtful and precise, while Asuma leaned back like the whole world moved at a slower pace for him. Shizune mostly listened, smiling when Rin’s enthusiasm spilled over.

I mostly sat quietly eating my lunch, the rhythm of chopsticks and rice grounding me while their voices washed together in the background. It was easier that way—listening, observing, without having to step too far into the noise.

“Yeah, they’re definitely acting like they’re better than everyone.” Kurenai nodded as I tuned into their conversation. “They think they’re a big deal being from a clan.”

“It’s not like they’re the only ones, though; they just seem to be more uptight about it.” Shizune added.

“Yes, but the rest that are from clans are all sitting here.” Rin pointed it out, and I had to blink.

“Are you talking about those girls from the Kurama clan?” I wondered, glancing between them.

Rin nodded, mouth full of rice, before she swallowed quickly. “Yeah. They walk around like everyone else is just… extra. Even Obito said so, right?”

Obito, mid-bite of his onigiri, nearly choked. “Huh? Don’t drag me into this!” he grumbled, cheeks puffing up before he swallowed. “But… yeah, they’re kinda stuck up.”

Kakashi gave a soft snort, his eyes narrowing just slightly. “Uptight clans aren’t new.” He didn’t elaborate, but the way he shifted back against the tree said enough—like he’d seen it all before and was already tired of it.

I tilted my head, still chewing slowly. The Kurama clan… I remembered something vague about them; their reputation was whispered more in stories than in facts. “Maybe they’re just trying to prove themselves,” I offered quietly.

That earned me a curious look from Kurenai, her chopsticks pausing mid-air. “Maybe. But it doesn’t give them the right to look down on everyone else.”

I hummed noncommittally, not sure if I agreed or disagreed, just letting the thought settle between us.

“You four are from clans, and you don’t act that way,” Rin pointed out, gesturing at me, Kakashi, Obito, and Asuma with her chopsticks.

“To be fair, my clan has a population of two right now,” I said, my tone dry enough that it made Rin blink.

“Mine has three,” Kakashi added, just as flat.

Obito puffed up immediately, grinning. “The Uchiha are awesome enough—I don’t need to prove I’m better than everyone.”

Asuma chuckled, scratching his cheek. “If I acted like that, my dad wouldn’t be very happy about it.”

Rin laughed at that, but I caught the way Kurenai’s brow furrowed thoughtfully, her gaze flicking toward me and Kakashi like she’d filed something away.

“You’re just actually politer. I mean—Kurenai’s dad is the Chūnin Commander, Asuma is the son of the Hokage, and you guys don’t strut around,” Shizune pointed out, chopsticks gesturing like she was tallying names in the air.

Obito leaned forward with a grin. “Exactly! See? That’s proof clan brats don’t have to act all high and mighty.”

Kakashi gave him a sidelong look that could have meant anything. I just went back to my rice.

That was when I felt it—a familiar chakra brushing against the edge of my senses, a ripple of intent that made the back of my neck prickle.

I twisted just in time, my bento sliding dangerously in my lap as something whistled past me and clattered against the tree.

Of course.

Tsuratan and his little pack stood a few paces back, smirks plastered across their faces like they’d been waiting for the perfect moment to ruin mine.

“Oops, my hand slipped,” Tsuratan muttered, like hurling rocks was the same as dropping chopsticks.

I stared at him, the words sour on my tongue before I even spoke. Slipped. Sure. His chakra felt sharp and mean—aimed. Not an accident.

“Why those?!” Rin muttered angrily, halfway up before I caught her wrist and tugged her back down.

“You can’t just let them go like this.”

“Confronting them won’t do anything.” I sighed, turning back to my food, rice suddenly tasting like ash. “Better to ignore them.”

“You’re being bullied?” Kurenai’s voice cut in, sharper than expected.

“Yeah, they did it on the first day too,” Rin explained before I could.

Obito slammed his chopsticks down. “Then why didn’t you say something?!”

Kakashi only tilted his head, but I felt his gaze like a weight. Asuma muttered something low under his breath, jaw tight.

I shrugged. “They’re doing that because I’m an outsider.” I chew on my rice and swallow. “If you call them out, they won’t exactly stop.”

“That doesn’t make it okay!” Rin gritted her teeth, her fists clenching against the tabletop.

“I didn’t say it did.” I set my chopsticks down, feeling the heat of everyone’s eyes. “I’m just saying that making a scene doesn’t fix anything. They’ll just look for new ways to make trouble.”

Obito growled low in his throat, like he was itching for a fight. “Then we give them trouble back.”

Kakashi finally spoke, voice steady but cutting. “That’s exactly what they want.” His gaze flicked briefly to me before sliding away, unreadable.

Shizune fidgeted with her hands, hesitant. “…But if you don’t say anything, it’ll look like you’re fine with it.”

Asuma let out a heavy sigh, scratching the back of his head, while Kurenai’s eyes narrowed, sharp and thoughtful.

“I am fine; they only pulled my hair and threw a rock. It’s nothing too bad.” I repeated again that I hated being the focus. “Can we change the subject…please?”

Obito looked like he was about to explode, but Rin reached out quickly, her hand catching his sleeve before he could bark something back. He grumbled but kept quiet, though his glare stayed locked on Tsuratan’s retreating back.

Kakashi gave a small shrug, the motion lazy, but his eyes lingered on me a beat longer than usual. Like he was measuring something, filing it away.

“…Alright,” Asuma said finally, forcing a grin back onto his face. “Fine. Subject change. Anyone else sick of rice already? Because I swear if my old man keeps shoving it in my lunch, I’m going to turn into a grain myself.”

Rin giggled, the tension breaking just enough to breathe again. Kurenai didn’t look fully convinced, but she let it drop, taking a careful bite of her food. Shizune nodded along, trying to look reassured.

I bent over my bento, grateful for the shift. Grateful they’d let me keep my walls up, even if their eyes said they weren’t done with the matter.

For the first time since the rock had flown past, I could taste the rice again.

Lunch eventually wrapped up, and we headed back to the classroom. We were inside, heading to our seats, when Kakashi was stopped by one of our classmates. Gai.

“You’re Kakashi Hatake, right?” Gai asked.

Kakashi gave him a blank look. “Yes?”

With the widest grin, Gai pointed at him. “Kakashi, join me in the springtime of youth.”

I could see the confusion in Kakashi’s face. “The what now?” He muttered, but Gai kept going.

“You are my eternal rival!” Gai declared, “Come on and fight me!”

The classroom buzzed with chatter, kids settling back into their seats, but Gai’s voice cut right through it all. Half the class turned in their chairs, curious.

Kakashi blinked at him, his rice-pale face unreadable. “…I don’t remember agreeing to this.”

“That’s because destiny decided for us!” Gai shot back, fists on his hips, grinning so wide his cheeks must’ve hurt. “Two flames burning brightly, destined to push each other to greater heights!”

“Or,” Kakashi said flatly, “you’re just loud.”

A ripple of laughter moved through the room—Obito nearly choking on it, Rin hiding her giggle behind her hand. Even Kurenai cracked a smile.

“Loud?” Gai gasped like he’d been mortally wounded. “No, my rival, this is PASSION! You must face me here and now to prove your strength!”

“Class is starting,” Kakashi pointed out, as though that settled it.

But Gai wasn’t giving up; he got into a stance and threw a kick at Kakashi.

Kakashi didn’t waste time defending himself from the kick and punches that followed before countering. It was over in ten seconds as Gai was thrown to the ground with a few well-placed kicks.

Gai wheezed, staring up at the ceiling with that same wild grin. “A-amazing…! Your flames of youth burn brighter than I imagined!”

“Or maybe you’re just bad at fighting,” Kakashi said dryly, dusting his hands off before sitting down like nothing happened.

The whole class buzzed in whispers. Rin clapped a hand over her mouth, wide-eyed. Obito leaned forward in his seat, looking between Gai and Kakashi like he wasn’t sure if he should laugh or join in.

Shizune whispered nervously, “They’re going to get in trouble…”

And sure enough, Shibata-sensei stepped in just then, arms crossed, glaring at the two boys. “Hatake. Might. Care to explain why I heard thuds and shouting before even opening the door?”

Gai sat up, throwing an arm in the air. “We were celebrating the springtime of youth, sensei!”

Shibata pinched the bridge of his nose. Kakashi just slouched in his seat, utterly unconcerned.

We all took our seats as class was about to start again.

“Guess I’m not the only one getting bothered by others.” I muttered, and Kakashi gave me a blank look.

Obito leaned over his desk to whisper, smirking, “The difference is, Gai’s asking for it.”

Rin shot him a look, shaking her head. “That doesn’t make it any better, Obito.”

Meanwhile, Gai had already bounced back up, still grinning despite the fresh bruise forming on his cheek. He sat down with his arms crossed in determination, muttering to himself, “I’ll surpass you, Kakashi Hatake. Just you wait!”

I gave Kakashi a sympathetic look.

Chapter 15: Lessons Beyond the Classroom

Notes:

Hey everyone, Here's the new update hope you enjoy.
I thank everyone that reads and comments, this might not be one of the good works out there, but Kikyo's story has been living rent-free in my head for a while now, eventually I decided to write it out, and post it on my favorite website. I appreciate all of you and I always hope people enjoy the read as much as I enjoy writing it out.

The Academy was boring, very painfully and excruciatingly boring. Which, in hindsight, should not have been surprising.

I had been learning a lot of this stuff since I was two. I have been reading since then too and got a handle on writing by three. Of course, I also had the mind and experience of a twenty-eight-year-old, so that covered the math parts, even if not the shinobi parts.

So, sitting through classes on writing, math, chakra basics, or even outdoor classes like throwing kunai and shuriken was boring.

Taijutsu class got boring really quick too, even if I wasn’t going to be a taijutsu expert anytime soon, but I was still ahead of most kids, and I got paired with Ume. A sweet girl, but she had zero previous training.

Ume tried, bless her heart, but she was clumsy in the way only a child could be. Her punches never quite reached, her kicks lacked balance, and every time she fell, she apologized as if she had broken some unspoken rule.
I always caught myself holding back more than I wanted to. One wrong move and I’d floor her, which wasn’t exactly the way to make friends.

“Remember, Ume,” Shibata-sensei called out from across the yard, “taijutsu is about control, not power. Keep your stance steady.”

She nodded quickly, nearly tripping again as she reset her feet. I exhaled slowly, feeling my patience fray. Sparring like this wasn’t training for me—it was babysitting.

And yet, when Ume looked at me with that determined little frown, I couldn’t help but soften.

The purpose of this wasn’t a spar, where both sides showed what they had; it was still a beginning. Most of the kids here didn’t know taijutsu after all.

Eventually, Shibata-sensei called it, and we rejoined the rest of the class after doing the seal of reconciliation.

I wasn’t the only one bored, though; next, Kakashi was called along with another boy in the class, Nakazo.

Unlike me, though, Kakashi didn’t hold back.

Nakazo ended up on his back 3 seconds after Sensei called "start."

“Good Kakashi,” Shibata-sensei told him, “Nakazo, we’ll find you another sparring partner.”

Kakashi didn’t even look smug about it. He just dusted off his hands and walked back to the group as if putting Nakazo flat on his back in three seconds was the most mundane thing in the world.

The rest of the class watched him the way you’d watch a wild animal—equal parts awe and caution. Even Gai, still bruised from earlier, clenched his fists and muttered something about youthful rivalry under his breath.

I just sighed. At least when I held back, I looked human. Kakashi had already decided he was going to leave everyone in the dust, and it was working.

“Kakashi is so cool.” Rin whispered beside me, eyes shining.

“He’s very talented.” I nodded along.

Shibata-sensei clapped his hands to get our attention. “Alright, next pair!”

The murmurs died down, and just like that, the routine of the class swallowed us up again.

But I couldn’t shake the thought—in another life, I might’ve been one of those kids staring at Kakashi like he was untouchable. Instead, I was watching him with the eyes of someone who knew where this path led.

The class continued; Rin eventually was called to fight against Yano Kurama. Yano was a taller girl, the tallest girl in class. She had brown hair in a ponytail and brown eyes.

“You can do it, Rin!” Obito cheered from beside me.

Rin flushed at the attention, her steps hesitant as she walked into the clearing. Yano smirked, rolling her shoulders with the kind of confidence that came from being bigger and stronger than most of the class.

“Start!” Shibata-sensei called.

Yano lunged first, and Rin yelped, barely dodging the swing. Her movements were clumsy but desperate, the kind of effort that screamed she didn’t want to disappoint anyone. Obito leaned forward, practically vibrating with encouragement.

“You’ve got this! Don’t give up, Rin!”

I folded my arms, watching more carefully. Rin had heart, but heart only got you so far against someone who already had size and stamina on their side.

Rin was on the defensive while Yano controlled the fight.

Rin ducked under another swing, nearly tripping over her own feet. Yano pressed forward with a sharp kick that grazed Rin’s arm, and she winced but didn’t fall. Her breathing was ragged, but she kept her guard up, eyes darting nervously between Yano’s stance and Sensei.

She’s not going to last much longer.

There was a flicker of stubbornness in Rin’s expression. She refused to quit.

“Come on, Rin! Counter!” Obito shouted, fists clenched tight.

And then, almost by accident, Rin did. When Yano charged again, Rin sidestepped clumsily—but her foot caught Yano’s ankle, sending the taller girl stumbling forward with a surprised grunt. The whole class gasped.

Rin blinked, just as surprised as anyone else, but straightened quickly, cheeks flushed. For the first time, she looked like she believed she could stand her ground.

“Stop,” Shibata-sensei called the match. “Good stance Yano, but you need to pay more attention. Rin…you need to be more aggressive.”

Rin nodded quickly, bowing before retreating to the line. Yano frowned but didn’t argue, though I could see the irritation in the way she tightened her ponytail as she sat back down.

Obito leaned toward Rin the moment she returned, whispering encouragements that made her smile despite her bruised pride.

I exhaled through my nose. More aggressive, Sensei said. Rin’s heart was in the right place, but the shinobi world wasn’t kind to hearts like hers.

The next pair was already being called, and the cycle continued—spar after spar, stumble after stumble, and the occasional clean win. All the while, the invisible lines between us grew clearer: the naturals, the hardworking stragglers, the ones who’d barely keep up, and the ones who might not make it at all.

Obito got beat by Gai, just barely, but it happened. Gai was far from the powerhouse he was in the story…yet.

Asuma faced Ebisu and finished it quickly.

Kurenai and Shizune ended up against each other, with the fight going back and forth.

The class eventually finished, and so did the academy day. We gathered our things and headed outside to head home.

Rin’s dad was already waiting and took Rin and Obito with him. The two of them waved back at me, Obito grinning like he hadn’t just been knocked flat earlier.

One by one, the rest of the class peeled off—some to parents, some in groups, a few alone. Laughter carried down the road as the sun dipped lower, painting the rooftops gold.

I was about to leave too on my way; I was surprised when Kakashi also started walking. “Sakumo-san isn’t coming today?”

“He’s busy.” He replied as we walked.

Our way was partially the same for the first stretch anyway. The streets were crowded with vendors closing up shop, the smell of grilled fish and soy still clinging to the air.

Kakashi kept his hands shoved in his pockets, walking like he had somewhere better to be, but he didn’t peel off right away. For a while, we just listened to the noise of the village around us.

“You don’t talk much,” I said finally.

He glanced at me, expression unreadable. “Most people talk too much.”

I huffed, not sure if that was aimed at me or just everyone in general. Either way, it felt like…something.

However, I could sense how upset he was—it rippled under the surface of his chakra, sharp and restless. “Is something wrong?” I asked, tilting my head at him.

Kakashi stiffened almost imperceptibly, like a fox caught sniffing around a trap. He didn’t answer right away. His pace didn’t falter either, but his shoulders tightened beneath his shirt.

“…You can tell?” He muttered finally, not quite looking at me.

I shrugged, pretending it was nothing. “I’m a chakra sensor…and I can sense emotions in it too…to a certain extent.”

For the first time, he actually turned to look at me. His gray eyes weren’t cold like in class, just tired—older than they should’ve been.

“It’s nothing,” he said, which of course meant it was very much something.

I wasn’t sure how to get him talking or what could be wrong.

It couldn’t possibly be the Sakumo situation? Was it supposed to happen this early? Or was it something else…

I thought quietly as we continued walking, the crunch of gravel filling the silence.

Kakashi didn’t fidget, didn’t sigh, and didn’t do anything a normal kid would. He just kept walking, back straight, steps measured, like even admitting he was upset would crack something inside him.

I tried again, softer this time. “You don’t have to tell me. But…if you did, I’d listen.”

His eyes flicked toward me—just for a second—before darting away. The silence stretched so long I thought he’d ignore me again, but then he muttered, “It’s…fine. Mother’s…she’s in the hospital again.”

He said it flat, almost rehearsed, but his chakra betrayed him—tight coils knotted up with frustration, sadness bleeding at the edges.

“Oh.” It was a small word, too small for the ache behind it.

I slowed my steps a little, enough to glance at him without making it obvious. His face didn’t give much away—he was trying hard to keep it blank—but that knot in his chakra told the truth.

“…Is she going to be okay?” I asked, cautious.

For a moment I thought he wouldn’t answer, that he’d just shut me out completely. Then he said, almost under his breath, “She’s always sick. Father says not to worry about it. But…” He trailed off, jaw tightening.

There was nothing I could say that wouldn’t sound hollow. I wasn’t his family; I couldn’t promise her recovery. But walking beside him like this, I could at least keep him from feeling completely alone.

“…If you ever want to talk about it,” I offered, “I won’t tell anyone.”

Kakashi didn’t answer, but his pace slowed just enough that it matched mine exactly.

Is that what happened then? How he lost her…

I could imagine the loss of a mother; I had lost it twice. When I was reborn here and when Uzushio fell.

Did that mean I had words of wisdom to give? No. It just meant I knew how much it hurt.

We reached the split in the path, and Kakashi started walking on his way quietly. “See you tomorrow!” I called after him. He lifted a hand in a wave, not looking back.

I sighed before continuing to walk my own way home.

Home…when did I start thinking of it like that?

It was a quiet thought, but it lingered. I didn’t like Konoha—probably never would—but I liked Kushina enough. I liked the little place we were shaping into something of our own.

The future loomed, heavy with what I knew and feared. But maybe—just maybe—it could be different. A better kind of different.

><><><><><><><><>< 

The next Academy day passed without much of note—chakra training, math and writing drills, and more Taijutsu stances to grind into memory.

But come Tuesday, after lunch, the girls were pulled aside for Kunoichi class.

Rin guided me up a hill not far from the Academy. The place looked nothing like a training ground—wildflowers swayed in the breeze, their colors scattered like paint across the grass. The air felt lighter here, almost too peaceful, as though it didn’t belong in Konoha at all.

Waiting for us was a woman who looked no older than her early twenties. She stood straight-backed among the flowers, her long black hair falling in a glossy curtain down her back. Green eyes sharp as glass studied us as we approached.

She was undeniably beautiful—makeup just enough to polish her features, not hide them.

She clapped her hands, the sharp sound at odds with the softness of the setting.
“Alright girls, sit down—we’ll start today’s lesson.” Her smile was warm and practiced, the kind of smile meant to put people at ease.

As we settled into the grass, she tilted her head toward me. “Oh, you must be Kikyō. I’m sure you’ll manage to catch up easily—we’ve only had one lesson so far.”

I gave a short nod, unsure what to expect.

“Now,” she continued, kneeling gracefully, “a kunoichi must be many things. Strong, yes—but also refined. We don’t only wield kunai. We wield perception. How others see us can be just as sharp as any blade.”

She reached into a small basket at her side, pulling out brushes, powders, and thin sticks of rouge. “Today, you’ll learn basic cosmetics—how to enhance what you already have.”

A ripple of giggles moved through the group as she passed the items around. Some of the girls seemed thrilled, others embarrassed.

Last time it was walking with a book on your head, and this time cosmetics?

I mean, I got the point. Cosmetics were a decent alternative when you didn’t want to burn chakra on a Transformation Jutsu, and they could be useful in situations where subtlety mattered. Ninja logic, sure.

Didn’t mean I liked it.

Back in my old life, I’d barely managed the basics of makeup, and now I was expected to master this era’s version—chalky powders, plant-based dyes, brushes that felt more like calligraphy tools than anything from a drugstore aisle.

I stared down at the kit in my lap.

Great. I survived Uzushio’s fall only to be defeated by eyeliner.

“We’ll start with colors. I need a volunteer…” Her green eyes swept over the eight of us like a hawk choosing prey.

The girls shifted. A few straightened in eagerness; others tried to make themselves invisible. I sat very still, hoping she wouldn’t—

Her smile curved, faint but knowing. “Rin. You’ll do nicely.”

Rin startled but stood obediently, moving to sit before her. The instructor crouched gracefully, picking up a small pot of pigment and a brush as thin as a senbon.

“Colors matter,” she said, dipping the brush with steady precision. “The right shade brightens your features. The wrong one draws attention you may not want. And attention, girls, can kill.”

A soft murmur passed through the group. The lesson wasn’t about looking pretty. Not really.

I was…impressed? I guess that was the word. What she explained was less “make yourself cute for boys” and more a tactical breakdown of color theory disguised as a cosmetics lesson.

How warm tones draw the eye, and how cool ones fade into the background. How eyeliner could sharpen a gaze, making someone look older and more confident—or soften it until you seemed harmless.

She even showed us the difference between powders, brushes, and pens—how each left a distinct texture, and how that texture could be used to highlight, conceal, or misdirect.

Rin ended up as the class guinea pig, sitting still with her lashes painted, lips tinted, and cheeks shaded while the rest of us tried to memorize the strokes.

Like Kakashi and me, Rin was only four—actually younger than both of us, with her birthday falling in November. But by the time Sakura-sensei was finished, she could’ve passed for a short preteen.

It was… unsettling. Seeing her round cheeks and childish features dressed up like that made it obvious what this lesson was really about: appearances were tools, and tools could make you older, softer, or anything in between.

Sakura-sensei handed Rin the mirror. Rin’s mouth fell open as she stared at her reflection, half in awe, half in disbelief. Sensei, on the other hand, looked pleased—like an artist admiring her canvas.

“Alright, girls,” she said brightly, clapping her hands. “Each of you has your own set of makeup and a mirror. Show me what you can do.”

My stomach dipped. I mean, I can handle calligraphy like a pro for Fūinjutsu. How hard can doing the same with makeup brushes be? Just paint on skin instead of paper.

Except seals didn’t twitch under your brush. Seals didn’t blink at the wrong time or smudge because your hand trembled for half a second.

I uncapped the little pot of color and stared at the brush like it was a kunai.

Alright then. Stroke, balance, precision… same principles. Just… prettier.

It wasn’t as easy. Calligraphy, seals, brushwork—I could handle those like second nature. But this? Color theory wasn’t my thing, obviously. I had purple eyes and red hair—on paper, finding something to match that should’ve been simple. Instead, I stared down at the tiny palette of powders and paints like it was some cursed sealing array I hadn’t studied for.

I decided to play it safe with light brown shades. Neutral. Harmless. Impossible to screw up, right?

Wrong.

The brush dragged across my skin in uneven streaks, refusing to blend. The more I tried to fix it, the worse it got—lines piling over lines until it looked less like eyeshadow and more like camouflage war paint. If this were a mission in the woods, maybe I’d have passed. For beauty class? Not so much.

I leaned closer to the mirror, squinting. One eye looked bruised, the other like I’d fallen asleep face-first into an ink spill. My stomach dipped lower with every glance.

Around me, the other girls were faring… better. Not good, but better. A few smudged too high, another overdid her blush until her cheeks looked sunburnt—but they were trying. Rin, of course, was already looking neat and tidy, even with shaky little hands. She didn’t smear, didn’t overdo, and just followed what Sensei showed step by step.

Meanwhile, my reflection gave the impression that someone had tried to seal a demon into my eyelids and failed miserably.

I snuck glances around the flower field, desperate to know if I was the only one cursed by brushes and powders.

Saya, thankfully, kept it simple—a whisper of blush, a touch of lip color. It wasn’t flashy, but it worked. Rin, who’d bravely wiped off Sensei’s handiwork to try again herself, managed something similar. Clean. Safe. Passable.

Then there was Shizune. Poor Shizune. She looked just as bad as me—if not worse. We locked eyes, and in that silent moment, breathed out identical sighs of relief. Camaraderie forged in mutual failure.

At least I wasn’t alone in this battlefield.

The Kurama girls, Ennonore and Yano, were another story. Of course they did well. Their makeup was subtle and understated, yet it somehow highlighted everything delicate and pretty about their faces. Natural beauty, enhanced by just enough polish to make the rest of us look like we were still playing with crayons.

Kurenai, though… Hers was excellent. She had chosen purple eyeshadow—bold, daring—that framed her crimson eyes like a crown. The colors were striking and dramatic but perfectly balanced with her pale skin tone. It wasn’t just makeup; it was a statement.

And then there was Ume. Her approach wasn’t loud, but gods, it worked. She hadn’t gone for bold shades, yet what she had applied stood out anyway. Elegant. Confident. Almost rivaling the flawless work Sensei had painted on Rin earlier.

I slouched lower on my stool, glaring at my reflection.

Uzumaki Kikyō: four years old, sole survivor of Uzushio’s fall, and currently the proud owner of two cursed eyelids.

Sakura-sensei clapped her hands together softly, drawing all eyes back to her. “Alright,” she said with a smile that was just a bit too sharp to be comforting, “let’s see what we’ve learned.”

She started with Saya, tilting the girl’s chin up. “Good. Simple, light. Safe choice. Nothing wrong with that—sometimes less really is more.” Saya beamed, shoulders straightening.

Rin squirmed under Sensei’s touch, but Sakura only nodded. “Well done. You followed what I showed you, and you didn’t overdo it. That’s restraint. Restraint is harder than it looks.”

When she got to Shizune, though, her brows arched ever so slightly. “…Ah.” A pause that said everything. But instead of criticism, Sakura chuckled. “Trial and error. Everyone starts somewhere. The important part is you tried. Mistakes teach faster than success.” Shizune smiled weakly, relief loosening her stiff shoulders.

And then—me.

Sakura bent down until we were nearly eye level, her gaze flicking from my patchy brown shadows to the clumsy strokes above them. Her lips twitched, like she was fighting not to laugh. “Kikyō…”

I braced myself.

“Interesting choice,” she said at last. “Your blending needs work. A lot of work. But I can see what you were aiming for—neutral shades to balance your hair and eyes.” Her smile softened, almost approving. “It means you’re thinking about coordination, not just colors. Don’t be discouraged. Even the worst brushstrokes are still practice.”

I exhaled so hard my bangs fluttered.

She moved on, inspecting the Kurama girls. “Excellent. Both of you have an eye for subtlety. Use what’s natural; enhance rather than cover. That will take you far.” The girls dipped their heads, smug but graceful about it.

Kurenai earned a rare, approving hum. “Bold. Strong. You knew exactly what you wanted and committed to it. That’s confidence—and confidence shows.”

Finally, Ume. Sakura actually tilted her head in genuine admiration. “Very nice. Not loud, not plain. Just right. Elegant.”

“Everyone did good for your first lesson; we’ll keep this up for the next few weeks,” Sakura-sensei nodded, her gaze sweeping across us like she was already cataloging our weaknesses. Then her smile curved again, this time with a sharper edge. “But now let’s move to the second part of today’s class. Tea ceremonies.”

Oh no.

My stomach did that same unpleasant dip it had when I picked up the wrong eyeshadow brush. If eyeliner had nearly ended me, then pouring hot water into fragile porcelain cups while trying not to look like a caveman was going to be an even swifter death.

A chorus of polite murmurs rippled through the class, but I caught Rin’s shoulders sag. Even Saya looked nervous. The Kurama girls? They straightened in smug silence, like this was their battlefield.

Sakura-sensei clapped her hands together lightly. “Tradition is important. Precision. Patience. Respect. These are things every kunoichi must embody, whether you’re serving tea to a lord or distracting an enemy long enough to slip poison into his cup.”

Her smile was sweet. Too sweet.

Yeah. I had the feeling I wasn’t going to like this class very much.

She had gotten a tea set with a table and everything out of a storage scroll—like it was the most natural thing in the world to carry around an entire dining room in a scroll. The lacquered tray gleamed; the cups were delicate enough I thought even looking at them too hard might chip them, and every tool had its own perfect place.

Sakura-sensei walked us through it all with that patient, practiced tone teachers used when they knew we weren’t absorbing half of it. The history of the tea ceremony and its meaning as both art and discipline. The names of the tools—the whisk, the scoop, the cloths—each with their own importance. And then came the positions. Yes, positions. There was apparently a correct way to sit, to kneel, to fold your hands, and to bow before even touching the tea.

By the time she started listing different occasions and the appropriate types of tea for each, my brain was already smearing the details together.

Black tea for nobles? Green for temple offerings? Was there one for shinobi who were quietly losing the will to live?

Meanwhile, Rin sat upright with big, attentive eyes, drinking it all in like she was already trying to memorize the script of a play. Saya copied notes furiously, probably afraid Sakura would spring a quiz on us later. The Kurama girls? They practically glowed, like they’d been preparing for this their whole lives. Kurenai kept her usual cool expression, but even she was nodding in rhythm with Sensei’s words.

Me? I just kept staring at the whisk, wondering how many seals it would take to weaponize it.

Thankfully, today’s tea ceremony lesson was only theory and not practical. I don’t think my knees—or my patience—could have survived kneeling through the whole thing. Sakura-sensei wrapped up soon after.

As we packed away the makeup kits and Sakura sealed the tea set back into its scroll, I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding.

One thing was certain, though: between demon-sealed eyelids and memorizing the correct angle to bow to a cup of tea, I was going to need more stamina for this class than for actual taijutsu drills.

><><><><><><><><>< 

I made sure every trace of makeup was wiped clean before we headed out of the academy. No way in hell was I going to get caught with those demon eyes.

Rin lingered a little too long with her mirror, still sneaking glances at her reflection as if she couldn’t decide if she liked it or not. Kurenai looked smugly satisfied with herself, walking like she’d just passed some secret adult test. Shizune trudged alongside me, her face scrubbed pink from rubbing too hard, and when our eyes met, we both just groaned.

Today had been a lesson, sure—but not in beauty, or grace, or whatever Sakura-sensei wanted us to take away.

When we headed outside, the boys were also leaving. I could see Obito’s cheeks turn bright red the instant his eyes landed on Rin. He stumbled over his own feet trying not to stare, which only made it more obvious. Rin went pink too, clutching her mirror as if she wasn’t sure whether to hide behind it or throw it away.

Asuma, meanwhile, looked completely lost. His brows drew together as he glanced from Rin to Kurenai to me, as if he couldn’t decide if we’d joined a different class entirely or been caught in some weird genjutsu.

And then there was Kakashi. He didn’t say a word—of course he didn’t—but the way he raised one silver eyebrow was enough. Just one tiny twitch and I wanted the earth to swallow me whole.

Shizune groaned under her breath, muttering something about never showing her face again. I couldn’t blame her. The boys might have gotten their usual kunai-throwing drills, but us? We’d been thrown into a battlefield with eyeliner and powder.

“You look… beautiful, Rin,” Obito blurted, the words tumbling out. His ears burned red, but Rin’s answering smile made it clear she didn’t mind one bit. For a moment she even looked radiant—until her gaze darted sideways toward Kakashi.

“Why—” Asuma started, his single visible eye flicking between me and Shizune like he’d just stumbled across a puzzle he was dying to solve.

“Don’t ask,” we both cut him off in unison.

Kurenai chuckled softly, brushing a strand of dark hair behind her ear with an elegance that only made the rest of us look worse by comparison. “They didn’t manage as well with the lessons,” she explained, far too gracious to outright laugh but enjoying herself all the same.

Kakashi didn’t comment. Not a smirk, not even the faintest twitch of interest. Just silence. I caught the way Rin’s shoulders sank, the way her smile faltered for a heartbeat before she smoothed it back into place. She was disappointed—plain as day.

I didn’t know if it was surprising she already had a crush on him, or if it was weird. Then again, we were four. If the academy could train us to throw weapons and stomach the idea of killing, then crushes… crushes were probably the least dangerous thing we could have. Harmless, even.

Eventually, everyone drifted off in different directions, laughter and chatter fading with distance until it was just Kakashi and me again, heading down the same road. The quiet stretched, not awkward, just heavy.

“How is she doing?” I asked quietly, meaning his mother.

He kept his eyes forward, hands tucked in his pockets. “…She’s hanging in there,” he said after a beat. The words were clipped but not cold—more like he was trying to convince himself as much as me.

I nodded, not pushing. He wasn’t the type to pour things out, and I wasn’t about to pry when it clearly hurt him to even admit that much. But his shoulders seemed tenser than usual, his steps more rigid.

“I hope she gets better soon,” I murmured.

For just a moment, his eyes flicked toward me, softer than I’d expected. “…Thanks.”

><><><><><><>< 

Kakashi didn’t come to class the rest of the week. At first, no one said anything—we just noticed the empty seat and the silence where his dry remarks usually cut in. Then the whispers started. Weak health… incurable illness… gone in the night.

There wasn’t a mission, no battle, no hero’s tale. Just a quiet sickness that had stolen his mother away. Somehow, that felt crueler.

Sometimes death just came, and there was nothing anyone could do.

 

 

Notes:

All we knew about Kakashi's mother was the single sentence from Sakumo about how she died young. so that's how I went with it for now.
For the Kunoichi class, I was heavily inspired by Mulan :3 I know it's Chinese, but I still used it for inspiration XD There's probably going to be a short time skip at some point, but I just want to introduce some things, and get a setting going before I do that.

Notes:

This is a new work I am trying. Feedback is appreciated. English isn't my first language so I am sorry for any mistakes.