A/N: I know that Temazcal hasn't been updated in roughly a thousand years and the excuse is that my following chapter drafts somehow got corrupted and now I can't open them. In other words, I've become defeated regarding it. While I in no way think I'm a good enough writer to warrant a following, I do apologize. It sucks to have a story you're reading just stop. There's a chance I'll continue it because I have the plot dotted around in notebooks and the rest held in the two brain cells I still have left, but it'll be slow going (you'll probably be collecting retirement). I want to be invigorated and excited by writing, so I've decided to start on a silly and self-indulgent OC/SI I've had bobbing around in my head. So, this is a 'just for fun'. That's what writing should be about, right?

Prologue

Through the knotted trees

I see you for the first time

We are both reborn

It took defection to see the sun.

Her hair was matted from days of neglect, her clothes were filthy and sweat-stained, and the kunai strapped to her mother's body painted bruises into her legs as she was jostled on her okaa-san's back, (as she was too little to keep pace with too little chakra to water walk), but when Nanami saw the sun, finally strong enough to break through the mist that had hung over her all her life, she had never felt such joy.

They had made it to the Land of Honey. On little sleep and even less food, Izumi Chiyoko had fled with her daughter. She ran; across Mizu, darting through marshland and river deltas, skating across the sea for miles until finding shabby fishing boats on which to stow away. She had slipped through cabin windows, huddled between netting and crates of fish, clutching her sleeping daughter, eyes wide, tracking every creak and hum of the vessel.

And now, as blistered feet touched upon the lush shore of Honey, Nanami's gasp at the sight of the sun and the blue of the sky, cut through Chiyoko's labored breaths. Even though they were still not safe, would probably never be safe, Chiyoko didn't protest as Nanami slid down her back, and took a few light steps towards the sun dappled tree line.

She sank to the ground cross legged, and ran her small hand through the sand, letting the grains fall through her fingers. Large eyes peered up at the skyline, savored the heat and humidity that warmed her skin, and for the first time in a long time, Nanami smiled. She met her mother's weary face, and with the tentative smile still on her lips, stood up, brushing the sand from her pants.

Nanami took Chiyoko's callused hand in her own, rubbing her thumb against her mother's palm, and leaned against her arm, and for a moment the tension in Chiyoko's shoulders seeped out and she brushed a kiss on the crown of her daughter's head.

They stayed hand in hand for a few quiet minutes until Chiyoko slipped her hand free, and stepped into the gnarled greenery of the mangroves.

Nanami watched in silence as her mother calmly removed her hitai-ate, the first time in over a week, and scratched a steady, deep line through the symbol of the Mist.

"It's a girl." The medic dully informed. Chiyoko nodded faintly, eyes never moving from the gloomy window view, a shroud of gray only broken by the ugliness of industrial buildings.

The fluorescent bulbs that plague every hospital cast a harsh light on Chiyoko, reflecting the sheen of sweat that dampened her body and plastered her dark hair to her face.

The medic and new mother remained silent as the infant girl's cries turned to whimpers. Soundlessly, the medic cleaned the baby and placed her in the crib beside the hospital bed before he stepped out of the room, the door closing with a heavy 'click'.

The baby was asleep. The only sound in the room was the hum of the lights.

She was afraid to look. Chiyoko wouldn't cry, as a Kiri nin, she wasn't sure she was even able to anymore, but she tilted her head up out of habit to stem any possible tears. Would she look like him? What if she didn't? Which was worse?

An image of a pale, magnetic man, dressed in Kiri pinstripe, inky hair brushing over equally dark eyes crossed her memory "Ryou…"

Units weren't based on any long-term familiarity in Kiri, but rather on necessity. This is turn resulted in very few lasting working relationships, and even fewer deeper connections. However, as one of the few third-caste jōnin, Chiyoko often led the high-risk missions forced upon the ninja from families captured in battle or annexed into the village meant to keep them too busy or too dead to revolt.

Ryou, a long-range specialist chūnin was often under her command. The Sano clan, just as the Izumi, had fought and lost against the forces of Mist, and that miasma of resignation and defeat had never left the psyche of the conquered clans.

But not Ryou.

Like a moth to the flame, Chiyoko was drawn to the charismatic man who was full of life in a way she had never before encountered. He was vibrant in a world of muted grays.

He had asked her to dinner after their third mission. Startled at his confidence -she was his commander after all- she stuttered out a "sure". After eight months of dating, Chiyoko stood in front of Ryou with a shy smile and a positive pregnancy test. He had laughed in delight, and kissed her stomach with a smile like sunlight.

But sunlight couldn't last long in a world of mist.

Extra assignments to make up for her pregnancy leave.

A mission he didn't come back from.

A small funeral with no body.

The newborn started to cry, startling Chiyoko out of her reverie.

She looked to the door in alarm, hoping the medic would come in and take care of the crying infant. But when the wails became louder, and it was clear no one was coming to help her, Chiyoko steeled herself and with a slight grimace of pain, turned to look at her daughter.

She was Izumi. Barely minutes old, the baby already had the clear characteristic of her clan. Her skin was a warm toffee that would deepen with sun, and she was born with a full head of hair that was thick, cocoa brown with the start of the soft wave so distinct to the clan. As she held her to her breast, the baby's crying stopped and she opened her eyes. The blue of her eyes, matched Chiyoko's own, and she knew it wasn't the blue that faded with infancy but her true eye color.

Searching her face for any sign of Ryou, Chiyoko's gaze lingered on the baby's nose. The slight aquiline shape caused her breath to hitch.

There was Ryou. He was still there.

"Welcome to the world, baby. Welcome to the world…Nanami."