Chapter Text
Sarah barely remembered the details anymore. It was all a hazy mess, fragmented pieces of a nightmare she could never fully recall. She remembered the cold touch of the dungeon walls, the chains that had bound her wrists raw, the scent of mildew and rot filling her lungs. She remembered the whispers of others, the broken ones who had long since given up, their eyes hollow like dolls left to decay.
But before that—before the dungeon, before the pain—there had been something else. A mistake. A moment of foolish curiosity.
She had been young, no older than three or four, when she found herself in the temple ruins, drawn by something she couldn’t explain. The air had been thick with an unnatural stillness, the kind that made her skin prickle. She had wandered too close, her small fingers reaching out to an ancient artifact—a blackened stone covered in inscriptions that pulsed with an eerie glow.
The moment she touched it, everything changed.
A searing pain shot through her, crawling up her arm like wildfire. She gasped, eyes widening as shadows slithered from the stone, twisting and writhing like living things. Then—nothing. Just darkness.
When she woke up, her mother’s lifeless eyes stared back at her. Blood painted the floor, thick and wet, the metallic scent choking her lungs.
Then came the hands—rough, unyielding—grabbing her, pulling her away. Shouting voices. Accusations. Horror.
She had been thrown into the dungeon before she even had a chance to cry.
Sarah’s body felt heavy. The scent of antiseptic filled her nose, foreign and unfamiliar. She forced her eyes open, the world around her blurry, indistinct. White walls. A soft mattress beneath her. The steady beep of a heart monitor.
“Where am I?”
A sharp pain lanced through her skull, forcing her to wince. When she moved to touch her face, her fingertips brushed against thick bandages wrapped around her skin.
“You’re awake. Finally.”
The voice echoed in her mind, smooth and knowing, carrying a detached amusement.
Sarah tensed. “Nemuri…”
“You were out for quite a while. Don’t worry, everything is alright now.”
“Alright?!” Sarah’s thoughts reeled. “I wake up in some unknown place with my face covered in bandages, and you expect me to believe everything is fine?!”
“Well,” Nemuri drawled, “aside from a minor run-in with your other mother that resulted in half our face being burnt off, I’d say things went relatively well.”
Sarah froze. “What the hell did you do?”
“Escaping proved to be… more difficult than expected,” Nemuri admitted, “especially with my powers being so heavily repressed. I had to improvise.”
“Improvise, how?”
“I tore open a portal into the multiverse. Hence why we are here.”
Silence.
Sarah swallowed hard. “Where is ‘here’ exactly?”
“A place called Konoha. Seems relatively primitive, but I suggest you don’t draw attention to yourself. Act normal. We can’t afford suspicion.”
Sarah clenched her fists. There were too many questions, too many gaps in her memory. But Nemuri had never been one to give straight answers, and right now, she didn’t have the luxury of demanding them.
She exhaled slowly, forcing herself to calm down. “Fine. I’ll play along.”
“That’s my girl.”
Hiruzen sat at his desk, rubbing his temples as the voices of the council echoed around him in heated debate.
“This is reckless!” one of the elders barked. “We don’t know where she came from! She could be a threat!”
“She’s just a child,” Hiruzen replied, his tone firm yet weary. “A dying child we found on the outskirts of the village. Are we truly so heartless that we would turn her away?”
“You should have let nature take its course,” another elder said, eyes narrowing. “For all we know, she could be an enemy experiment, a weapon waiting to be activated!”
Hiruzen sighed, looking at the reports on his desk. The girl had been found in a crater, her body broken and barely clinging to life. Yet despite the severity of her injuries, she had survived. That alone was troubling. There was something unnatural about her, something he couldn’t quite place.
But when he had looked at her unconscious form, bandaged and frail, he hadn’t seen a threat. He had seen a child who had suffered.
“I will not sentence an innocent child to death,” he said firmly. “She remains under observation. If she poses a danger, we will handle it accordingly.”
The room was tense, but no one dared challenge him further. As the meeting adjourned, Hiruzen leaned back in his chair, staring at the ceiling. He could only hope he had made the right choice.
Sarah’s fingers twitched slightly against the hospital sheets, her mind still foggy from the conversation she’d had with Nemuri. She had barely begun to process anything when the door creaked open.
A nurse—middle-aged, her hair tied in a neat bun—stepped inside to check on her. At first, the woman was focused on the clipboard in her hands, jotting down notes. But then, her eyes flickered toward Sarah’s face. Their gazes met.
The nurse’s breath hitched.
“You’re awake!” she gasped, immediately stepping back toward the door. Her voice rose in urgency. “Someone get the Hokage! She’s regained consciousness!”
Sarah flinched. The Hokage? What the hell were they talking about? Who was this Hokage person and why were they being called over just because she had woken up?
Her heart pounded as she tried to sit up, but her body still ached, and the bandages over her face limited her movement. She swallowed hard, uncertainty gnawing at her.
“Stay calm.” Nemuri’s voice hummed in her mind, sharp and knowing. “Just play along. Do not give them a reason to suspect anything.”
Sarah exhaled shakily, trying to quell her nerves. Several minutes passed, the quiet only adding to the tension. Then—
The doors opened again.
A man entered, his presence alone commanding attention. He was older, his face lined with age and wisdom, his robes marking him as someone important. Behind him, several figures followed—masked individuals, clad in dark clothing. Their very stance radiated vigilance.
Sarah stiffened.
The older man offered a kind smile, his hands resting behind his back as he stepped forward. “Ah, you’re awake. That’s good.”
Sarah didn’t respond, her body locked in place. Her instincts screamed at her to run, to get away, but she knew that wasn’t an option.
The man—the Hokage?—noted her fear, his smile softening. “I see that you are frightened. I apologize if our presence alarms you. My name is Hiruzen Sarutobi. I am the leader of this village. You are in Konoha, and you are safe here.”
Safe? Sarah wanted to believe that, but safe was not a word she was used to.
She swallowed, her voice barely above a whisper. “…Sarah. My name is Sarah.”
“Good girl,” Nemuri murmured approvingly.
Hiruzen nodded, as if committing her name to memory. “It’s nice to meet you, Sarah.” He studied her carefully, his expression remaining warm yet assessing. “Would you mind telling me a little more about yourself? Where you came from? How you ended up here?”
Sarah hesitated.
“Careful,” Nemuri warned. “Give them only what is necessary.”
“I…” She licked her lips, trying to form a believable response. “I was being held captive… somewhere. I escaped.” Her voice wavered slightly, the truth slipping into her words, though she knew better than to tell the whole story. “On my way out, I was attacked. I don’t… I don’t really remember much after that.”
Hiruzen observed her for a long moment before nodding slowly. “I see.” He didn’t press further, though Sarah could tell he wanted to. “Whoever was responsible for what happened to you… they will face consequences. You don’t have to be afraid anymore.”
Sarah nodded, though the words didn’t quite settle within her. Because deep down, she was still afraid.
Sarah remained in the hospital for several more days. Her wounds healed at an unnatural rate. The doctors and nurses whispered about it, baffled by how quickly she was recovering. Even injuries that should have taken weeks to mend were fading in mere days.
Sarah wasn’t sure what to make of it either.
“You should not be surprised,” Nemuri mused in her mind. “My presence is… beneficial to your body.”
Sarah wasn’t entirely convinced, but she didn’t argue. Still, she couldn’t ignore the other changes.
One night, she caught her reflection in the hospital window. Her breath hitched. Her hair—once a dark chestnut color—had turned lavender, strands of it catching the moonlight. Both of her eyes were now a deep, unnatural purple, their color almost hypnotic. A scar covered the left side of her face and extended a bit past the bridge of her nose, the lingering mark of whatever had burned her.
She stared at herself for a long time.
“You are evolving,” Nemuri said simply.
“Into what?”
Nemuri didn’t answer.
The doctors attributed her appearance—her slight, frail form—to malnutrition and years of abuse. Sarah wasn’t sure. Maybe they were right. Maybe they weren’t. Regardless, she was just grateful to be away from everything.
But peace never truly lasted. The nightmares came almost every night.
She would wake in the dark, heart hammering, sweat clinging to her skin. The memories clawed at her, dragging her back to the dungeon. The sound of chains rattling. The stench of blood. The cold press of stone against her back.
She dreamed of hands grabbing her, pulling her down into the abyss. She dreamed of eyes watching her from the shadows, whispering.
“You will never escape.”
Sarah would bolt upright, gasping, fingers clutching at the sheets. Her body trembled violently. No matter how much she told herself she was free, the fear never left.
The doctors eventually took notice. After discussing among themselves, they assigned her a psychologist. A woman named Dr. Aki, who always spoke softly and never pressured her to speak when she didn’t want to.
Sarah didn’t trust her. She didn’t trust any of them.
“You shouldn’t,” Nemuri reminded her. “They will never truly understand. Keep your guard up.”
So she did.
Even as days passed, even as she was assured of her safety, Sarah remained on edge. She couldn’t shake the feeling that this peace wouldn’t last forever.
Sarah remained in the hospital for well over three months, and in that time, she made significant improvements—physically, emotionally, and mentally. Her healing continued to astound the doctors. Wounds that should have taken years to fully recover from faded in mere months, her body seemingly repairing itself at an unnatural rate. The nurses whispered about it, marveling at her resilience, but Sarah never gave them an answer.
By then, she had come to understand how this world worked. Konoha was unlike anything she had ever seen before. A massive village, vibrant and filled with life. From her hospital window, she often watched the bustling streets, the shinobi leaping across rooftops, the people moving about their daily routines. She listened to the doctors and nurses speak about the village’s structure, the Hokage’s role, the shinobi forces, and the academy where young children were trained to become warriors.
She soaked it all in, memorizing everything.
Even though she was still haunted by nightmares, she slowly began working through her trauma with Dr. Aki. Of course, she never mentioned Nemuri or the truth about where she came from. Instead, she let them believe she was simply an escaped captive, a girl who had suffered at the hands of nameless tormentors.
She allowed herself to become familiar with the hospital staff—the kind nurses who brought her food, the doctors who checked on her progress, even the guards stationed outside her room to keep her “safe.” But what truly captivated her was the village beyond the hospital walls.
One day, the nurses finally allowed her to take short walks outside. The first time she stepped beyond the hospital doors, her breath hitched.
The air was fresh, the wind gentle against her lavender hair. The village stretched far and wide, with massive stone walls encircling it. The streets were filled with merchants, civilians, shinobi moving about in dark flak jackets, children laughing as they played. For the first time in forever, she felt something almost like excitement.
“Different from your world, isn’t it?” Nemuri mused.
“Very,” Sarah admitted.
She wasn’t sure what the future held for her, but one thing was clear; she was never going back.
After three long months, the day of her release finally arrived. When Sarah woke up that morning, she felt a strange mix of emotions. Relief, uncertainty, and something else—something she couldn’t quite name. The door to her hospital room opened, and to her surprise, it was Hiruzen Sarutobi himself who stepped inside.
He smiled warmly. “Good morning, Sarah.”
Sarah blinked, sitting up. “Morning…”
“I hope you’re ready.” Hiruzen stepped closer, his expression thoughtful. “It’s been a long journey, but you’ve recovered well. I’m glad to see you doing better.”
Sarah wasn’t sure how to respond to that. It had been months since the old man had first found her in that crater. He had visited her a few times, checking in, but they had never spoken much.
As she climbed out of bed and got dressed, she couldn’t help but wonder—what was next for her?
Hiruzen seemed to be wondering the same thing.
As they walked through the hospital corridors, escorted by two ANBU, the Hokage kept stealing glances at her. He was clearly debating something.
Sarah glanced up at him. “What is it?”
Hiruzen hummed. “I’ve been thinking about what would be best for you, given everything that’s happened.” He sighed. “You’re still a child, Sarah. You need a place to live.”
Sarah tensed slightly, but she said nothing.
“I considered placing you in an apartment, much like I did with someone else… but I believe it may be best for you to stay in the orphanage for now,” Hiruzen continued. “The matrons there will take care of you. It will give you time to adjust.”
Sarah wasn’t sure how to feel about that. But in the end, she simply nodded. She didn’t know much about Konoha’s orphanage system, but at the very least, it had to be better than the dungeon.
Right?
Sarah quickly realized that the orphanage was not for her. The building was old and overcrowded, filled with far too many children and far too few resources. The caretakers did their best, but it was clear the orphanage was underfunded. Meals were scarce, space was limited, and fights often broke out between the older children.
Sarah spent two weeks there, observing, learning.
And then she made her decision.
“This place is useless,” Nemuri muttered. “You’ll gain nothing by staying here.”
“I know,” Sarah thought back.
She was done with cages. Done with being trapped.
So, one night, she simply left.
Living on the streets of Konoha wasn’t easy, but it was a million times better than the orphanage. Sarah quickly learned how to fend for herself. She picked up on stealth and speed, learning how to move unnoticed through the alleys, how to snatch food from market stalls without drawing attention. She stole, looted, did whatever was necessary to survive.
Nemuri was unimpressed. “Pathetic. You should be above petty theft.”
“And what do you suggest?”
“If you’re going to steal, do it properly.”
Under Nemuri’s guidance, Sarah became smarter about her methods. She observed the patterns of shopkeepers, memorized guard rotations, learned when and where to strike.
And she didn’t just survive—she thrived.
One of the greatest discoveries she made was the village’s library. It became her sanctuary.
At first, she only sneaked in to escape the cold nights, hiding in the darkest corners. But then, she realized the true value of the place. Books. Information. Knowledge.
She learned how to read and write, something she had never been properly taught before. And once she started, she devoured knowledge. History, culture, language—anything she could get her hands on.
And that’s when she found out about the ninja academy.
Becoming a shinobi was the fastest way to secure a future for herself. To gain power. To never be helpless again.
“Now you’re thinking,” Nemuri murmured approvingly.
Sarah smirked slightly, determination settling deep in her bones. If Konoha had an academy to train soldiers then that’s exactly where she needed to be.
Sarah had her sights set on the Ninja Academy. It was the fastest way to secure a future for herself. She’d spent weeks reading up on it—how students were trained, the curriculum, the opportunities that came with becoming a shinobi. It was perfect.
Or so she thought. The reality was far less forgiving.
Applying to the academy wasn’t easy, especially as an orphan and a civilian. Most students came from established clans or families with connections. Even the other orphans had a better chance since they had records within the system.
Sarah, however, had nothing. No lineage, no documents, no official guardian.
“Tch. Bureaucracy is as tedious as ever,” Nemuri mused in her mind, unimpressed.
Sarah scowled. “So what? Am I just supposed to give up?”
“Of course not. You’ll simply have to work around it.”
That meant forging an identity—one that would be recognized by Konoha’s records. It also meant proving herself worthy of enrollment.
Sarah wasn’t worried about intelligence. She was quick-witted, resourceful, and already had more knowledge than most academy students thanks to her endless reading, but there was one major problem: Chakra.
No matter how much she researched, chakra was an unavoidable requirement. Every shinobi needed it. Every jutsu, every technique relied on it. It was the foundation of everything.
Sarah, however, had next to none.
She pouted as she stared at the book in front of her.
“Why don’t I have any chakra?!” she grumbled.
“Because you’re not from this world and your body never developed a chakra network like the others here,” Nemuri answered smoothly.
Sarah huffed, slumping onto the table.
“Oh, quit sulking. Mana and chakra are awfully similar, you know.”
Sarah blinked. “What?”
“You heard me. The principles are the same—energy flowing through a system, converted for various uses. If you have mana, then you already have the necessary foundation.”
Sarah sat up, flipping through the book in front of her. The more she read, the more she saw what Nemuri meant. The way chakra was described—how it was gathered, how it flowed through the body—was eerily similar to how she once manipulated mana back on her homeworld.
Her eyes widened. “Oh… ohhh.”
An idea formed.
She found an empty alley and sat down cross-legged, closing her eyes. She focused, reaching deep inside herself.
For the first time in a long while, she sought out her mana. It was there, faint and sluggish, but still present. She took a deep breath, willing it to move, to shift into something new.
At first, nothing happened. Then, something clicked. A new sensation spread through her body, tingling at her fingertips. It wasn’t quite mana, but it wasn’t foreign either. It was something else. Something adapted.
She exhaled sharply. “Holy shit.”
She could convert mana into chakra. This was game-changing.
The next step was knowledge. Now that she had some chakra to work with, Sarah focused on catching up on years of history, strategy, and ninja theory.
She practically lived in the library, absorbing every bit of information she could. Politics, village structures, historical conflicts—anything relevant to Konoha’s shinobi.
But she didn’t stop at the civilian sections. Using her stealth, she sneaked into the shinobi-restricted areas, stealing glimpses of advanced scrolls and training manuals. Most of it was complex and required actual practice, but it gave her a general understanding of what she needed to do.
By the end of the month, she knew she was ready.
“This upcoming year, I’m getting into that academy.”
“Now that’s the confidence I like to see,” Nemuri chuckled.
The day of enrollment arrived faster than she expected. Sarah stood in line with other kids, most of them from shinobi clans or established families. She ignored the side glances, keeping her expression neutral.
When it was finally her turn, the instructor eyed her with skepticism.
“Name?”
“Sarah,” she answered simply.
The instructor scanned the list and frowned. “You’re not on the roster.”
Sarah’s stomach clenched, but she forced herself to remain calm.
“I was recently added,” she lied smoothly. “Hokage’s orders.”
The man narrowed his eyes but didn’t argue. “You’ll need to take a placement exam first.”
Sarah nodded. She was prepared for this.
The written exam was easy—laughably so. Having spent months cramming knowledge, she breezed through it with little effort. The physical test, however…
That was another story.
The first tasks—running, agility drills, and basic endurance tests—were simple. She had spent months navigating the streets, honing her speed and stealth.
Then came the shuriken and kunai test. Sarah frowned at the weapons in her hands. She had never used these before.
When it was her turn, she took a stance, eyeing the targets ahead. She threw the first shuriken. It veered off slightly, barely hitting the outer ring.
The second one? Worse.
The kunai landed better—closer to the center but still far from a bullseye. Sarah bit the inside of her cheek. Damn it. She hated failing.
“Relax,” Nemuri chuckled. “You’ll learn soon enough.”
She huffed but said nothing. By the end of the exam, her scores were… decent. Not outstanding, but good enough to be considered. The instructors hesitated before finally granting her admission.
“Reluctantly,” Nemuri noted with amusement.
Sarah didn’t care, because the moment they gave her that acceptance slip, she cheered.
“I did it!”
“Indeed you did,” Nemuri hummed. “This is where things get interesting.”
Sarah grinned, her eyes sparkling with excitement. She was officially a student of the Ninja Academy.