Hello lovelies! It's been years, but after unearthing this piece from the depths of my old computer, I've decided it was worth a rewrite. To any old followers, thanks for sticking around for so long. I hope you like this new version even better!

Note: The Yuki Clan mentioned in this story is the same one that Haku descended from. I've taken some creative liberties that may or may not completely coincide with canon, but hopefully you'll forgive me! Also, I'm Canadian. British spelling awaits (aka everything has an extra 'u').

Prologue

"Try it again, Sora." Ren's voice was firm. "The key is control, see?"

The paper-thin layer of ice that spread from his fingertips was completely transparent. Precise.

Sora frowned.

She formed the now-familiar hand-seals with vigilant care, and brought her hand down to the pond.

The half-frozen pond exploded at her touch, sending slivers of ice flying at her face. Ren's arm came up to shield her just in time, and she watched with frustration as the ice rained down into the snow, right next to the ice shards produced from her first attempt, her second, her fortieth…

Ren closed his eyes and let out a sigh. It was a soft, long-suffering sound. "Well, you don't lack in chakra volume, that's for sure. Your only problem is control."

"That and the fact that my Ice Release hasn't awakened," Sora muttered. "Maybe it never wi—"

Sora winced as Ren flicked a finger square against her temple. He bent down in front of her, arms crossed in exaggeration. "No sister of mine is allowed to make such a pitiful face."

"You don't get it, Ren. Everything comes easily to you. You're the genius. The Prodigy. The saviour of the clan." She pouted, bristling. "Isn't that what they call you? "

"Tsk. They're exaggerating." He folded his hands behind his head, then tipped leisurely backward unto the ground. He landed in a poof of snow, and patted the space beside him. "You make it sound like I've never had to try at anything. I'd like to think I'm not that much of a lazy bum."

"You do work hard." Sighing, Sora leaned back into the snow beside him. She shivered as she felt snow make contact with her bare neck. "But at this rate, Hikaru's gonna learn ninjutsu before I do, and he can barely crawl!"

He snorted playfully. " Even if your Ice Release never manifests, you can still be super strong, you know. To be honest, you kinda scare me with that sword. You've really taken after Mum."

In a blink, Ren was up and Sora's feet went flying from under her. Around and around he swung her, until a traitorous giggle bubbled from her chest."But you know what I think? I think you'll definitely manifest. You're only eight Sora, there's still plenty of ti-"

His grip on her arms tightened, and she could feel the tension snaking up his body. "Ren?"

He slung her over his shoulder without warning, and she saw his hand creep into his weapon pouch. "Hold on Sora." His voice was cold and calm and collected, and it made her shudder. "Something's not right."

And then they were flying. The trees around them became a blur. He was going too fast, jostling her too much, his grip on her legs was too tight. He never ran like this, not while carrying her. She tightened her grip on his shirt. There's something wrong, There's something wrong. There's something-

He was mid-leap when they heard the scream. His footing slipped just for a fraction of second as they landed on the next branch, and Sora's heart dropped into her stomach.

"Ren," She didn't mean to sound so scared, but her voice was breaking and she could feel the sweat sliding cold lines down her neck and that had sounded like—

"Who was that?"

He didn't respond. His grip on her legs was a crushing force as he sprinted forward. Her pant leg was damp with the sweat from his palms. Just before the village came into sight, Ren plopped her down unto a branch.

"Stay here, Sora." He held out his short-sword. "If you see anyone who looks unfamiliar, run, or shout for me. And don't hesitate to use this, if you have to. Understand?"

His face was all sharp lines and merciless eyes. It was a face he rarely showed to her, one only glimpsed in wee hours of the morning when he slunk back through the darkness like a wreath, translucent skin splattered with blood that might have been his, but probably wasn't.

He was gone the second the sword was in her grip. She dug her nails into the trunk of the tree, and the feel of the rough bark against her skin seemed to ground her. It would be alright. She didn't know what was happening in the village, but Ren was going to help and he would make it alright. Just like he made everything alright.

There was a terrible, thundering noise, like stone caving in on itself.

This had happened before, and it would happen again. Every time her father disappeared for days on end, every night that Ren tucked her in bed without changing out of his shinobi attire, was a clear reminder that the Yuki Clan would never find peace. They'd been persecuted, fractured, hunted down like animals, but together they were strong.

It would be alright. Ren, the child prodigy and the eldest son of the Clan Head. Ren, who had been deemed the strongest fighter in the clan at the tender age of eleven. He would save them.

More screams echoed in the air, and she squeezed her eyes shut, just for a moment.

He was sixteen now; stronger, wiser. Sora took a breath. Everything would be alright.

Except it wasn't. She couldn't ignore the dark cloud of dust rising ominously into the sky. She couldn't ignore the sound of explosions and earth crumbling. She certainly couldn't ignore the screams.

Her gaze fixed upon a fissure snaking open ahead of her, snow slipping into the opening as the ground cracked and shook from explosions. Her mouth went dry as the clearing collapsed, and rock crashed down into the hollow underneath. The location of her clan was a secret guarded even in death, an underground village carved from ice and limestone.

So many years of paranoia, so many concealment justus and assassination missions. No one should have known. And yet, there was nothing Sora could do as the ground crumbled in on itself, shaken by explosions that could only have been planted underground, in the village itself.

Sora watched the survivors climb out of the ruins of their village, many with ice and weapons flying from their fingertips. Those who had mastered the Yuki Clan's ninjutsu were as graceful as they were deadly, but it wasn't enough. Shinobi dressed in black and blue surrounded the few-dozen uninjured survivors on all sides, brandishing swords and foreign ninjustu.

"No….no!" Sora's heart stopped as red seeped into the snow, spreading like spilled wine across the clearing. She gripped the handle Ren's short-sword with white-knuckled fingers; the rough leather was the only thing she could feel as her vision tunneled.

She didn't feel herself fall, didn't notice until the cold bite of snow was pressed against her cheek, and her limbs throbbed with a dull ache. There was a crunch of ice in front of her, and she pulled herself up in time to see a man with a scratched out forehead protector.

Red was splattered across his face, soaking his clothes and dripping from his hands. He twirled a throwing knife nonchalantly in his hand. "Looks like we missed one."

Sora swung the short-sword at the man's ankles, but her vision was still blurred and the man kicked her blade away. She saw the knife coming down, but all she could focus on was the red in the man's clothes, the red seeping into the ground in front of her, red—

There was a strangled groan, and she was half-sure it had come from her own throat. When no blow came, Sora's vision cleared to the sight of her attacker impaled on a spike of ice. The snow around her hands had turned to ice, and the fabric of her sleeves were frozen stiff. Ice release. How ironic that it had chosen today to finally manifest itself.

Her legs nearly buckled as she stood. There were others, dozens of others now charging towards her. Her fingers formed the familiar the seals, and she drove them into the ground, squeezing her eyes shut. Like every attempt to freeze over the pond, there was an explosion. But this time, the ground around her exploded into a minefield of icicles, spearing through legs and chests and people.

Her vision faded in and out, the images blurring together as she stumbled down to the village. Blood-drenched snow. Her ice-release tearing into men with her every step. Dead men wearing the Yuki Crest across their cloaks, faces twisted and throats slit. Dead men dressed in black and blue, bodies frozen or bloodied.

Then, there was Ren, wrenching his blade out of someone's skull. He turned towards her with a bewildered look.

"Sora?….Sora!"

Spots swam in her vision, muddling her brother's silhouette. She felt a dull pain as her knees contacted with the frozen ground.

"Sora, you have to…I can't… you have to calm down!"

Her cheek pressed against the snow, she heard the clang of Ren's kunai slicing through icicles, felt her chakra exploding from her body in waves.

Her consciousness was fading when she felt Ren's chakra, gentle and soothing, flood across her body like a wave, sealing her chakra points and releasing the tension in her muscles.

When she woke, Sora wasn't sure if she'd been out for hours, or merely minutes. Ren's face hovered over her, furrowed tightly with concern.

With his firm hand on her back, she slowly sat up, wincing. She was bone-tired, a kind of deeper fatigue that went past her muscles, which she now recognized as chakra depletion.

She surveyed her surroundings, shocked by the rings of icicles protruding from the ground around her.

Ren patted her head with a weary, melancholic expression. "Can you stand?"

He helped her up and silently, they padded over to where the ground had collapsed inward and down to the ruins of their underground village. She couldn't help but notice how Ren was favouring his left leg, how there was a bloody gash along his right flank.

It looked as if the entire place had been bombed. It probably had been. The walls of the buildings, so sturdily carved from ice and rock, were all but demolished, and Sora stiffened at the sign of an arm peeking out of a heap of rubble.

Ren let out a slow breath, furrowing his brow in a rare display of indecision. "Maybe…maybe you should stay here. You shouldn't—"

"No!" She didn't think she could stomach the wait. Nothing could be worse than what her imagination was already providing.

Ren's mouth was a thin line, his eyes searching her face helplessly. "I need you to help me then. Help me search for survivors."

She helped him dig the bodies out of the rubble, and he showed her how to check for life. She had a hard time feeling for a pulse, so he taught her to press her head against their chests to check for a heartbeat.

She did so obediently for each person she encountered, even if their throats were slit, and even if she had to choke back a sob in recognition. Each time, she hovered a finger under their noses, pressed an ear against their chests, and each time, she was met with the still silence of death.

Eventually, they reached the remains of the building at the centre of the village: the Clan Head's house, and what used to be Ren and Sora's home. Ren began clearing the rubble away so they could reach what remained of the entrance, and Sora followed, clutching a fistful of his jacket in her one hand.

Ren stopped so abruptly that Sora rammed into him with an anxious squeak. She could feel him stiffen, and he immediately moved to block her path. A hand came up to shield her gaze.

"Sora…"

She buried her face in his jacket. His arms were at once rigid and unyielding, a barricade that left her with no option but to sob against the solidness of his back.

Her mother's bloodied sword laid haphazardly in her line of vision. She hadn't been holding onto much hope to begin with.

But then, there was the distant, soft cry that filled the silence, startling them both.

"Hikaru…" Sora breathed. "Where's Hikaru?"

Hooking an arm around Sora's waist, Ren raced towards what used to be the living quarters.

"Kami, please," Ren murmured. "Sora, help me dig!"

They shoved away the rubble with bleeding fingers, but only managed to clear a small hole into Hikaru's nursery. Ren eyed the fracturing remains of the wall above them with apprehension.

"Do you think you can fit through?"

"I can try."

She angled her body sideways, feeling the sharp limestone bite into her hips. The room was black as pitch, the remnants of a shattered nursery light cutting into her palms. She reached desperately for Hikaru's crib, but her hands found nothing but empty blankets. Something inside her dropped, sank deep—

Another wail.

Eyes snapping to her left, her hands find the handle to the closet.

Yes.

Warm, tiny fingers grabbed desperately at her hands as she scooped the bundle up and passed it through the hole and into Ren's awaiting arms. Ren's frame seemed to collapse in on itself with relief.

Hikaru. A collection of sacred scrolls in the remnants of the study. Her mother's jewelry box from the master bedroom. A lumpy bundle, plastered with seals unearthed from the storage room. One by one, valuables were gathered from the rubble of their home and slung haphazardly across Ren's shoulder.

No time, her brother informed her, to bury the dead. It wouldn't be long before scouts from Kirigakure would flood the scene, drawn in by the abnormally high chakra signatures.

With each progressive leap away from the village, Ren's limp grew increasingly more pronounced. Sora's grip on his neck must have been near choking as she — and the contents of their bag— were flung this way and that, like the passengers on a sinking boat. Hikaru babbled and wailed incessantly from his place strapped against Ren's chest. The poor thing was probably tired of being jerked to and fro.

"Ren," Sora finally dared to whisper. "Maybe you should…"

She felt the muscles in his back stiffen as his shoulder smashed into the tree truck after a particularly nasty landing, but he gave no response.

A worrying shade of purple was creeping up his neck from his right shoulder. She thought—hoped— it was a bruise, but the exposed gash along his right flank, its edges inflamed and purple-black, set her ill-at-ease.

"Ren. Stop! I'm telling you to stop!"

Despite gritted teeth, Ren managed a smile. "Hey now, who's the older brother here? I'm in charge, remember?"

"But your entire shoulder is…and your leg! You need to see a healer!"

There was a pregnant pause. "Let's go a just a few more miles. Once we're out of the Land of Mist, we'll rest for the night, okay?"

Sora fell silent. Ren couldn't, she realized, get treatment. She doubted any civilian doctor could treat the gash along his flank, and any medical-nin they found would undoubtedly be affiliated with a ninja village.

By the time they located a cave to rest in, just on the outskirts of the Land of Water, the sun was setting and Ren was swaying on his feet like a drunken sailor. Sora had just enough time to scramble off his back before he collapsed against the cave wall.

"Sora," Ren called to her after she had scraped together enough twigs for a modest fire and swaddled Hikaru in their only blanket. He had been immobile and breathing-heavy for nearly an hour, and the sheen of cold sweat glistened from his skin. "Fetch me Mom's sword, and that thing wrapped in cloth and seals."

Ren's hand trembled as he unsheathed their mother's sword and ran a finger along its edge. "Forged from iron sand, you know? Made by the most famous sword-smith in the Land of Iron. It can cut through almost any other weapon, even steel. It's—"

"One of a kind. I know." The blade gleamed wickedly in the firelight. It was the last relic of her mother's past as a samurai's daughter, a swordswoman in the Land of Iron. A life before she married our father and took on the mantle of mother and matriarch to a foreign, banished clan. "Mom likes to— liked to tell me every chance she got."

Silence.

"And this. Dad was saving this for when you manifested." Ren finally interjected, meticulously peeling the seals off the bundle and unraveling the wrappings. "He was hoping it would suit you once we realized you took after Mom.

Sora blinked. It was the hilt of a sword, elaborately decorated with the Yuki Clan crest. She gripped the hilt and frowned. It was surprisingly light, and to her observations, utterly useless. "What is it supposed to do?"

"Give it here." Ren's fingers struggled to even grip the elaborate handle, but once his hand closed around it, a gleaming blade of ice manifested. "It feeds off your chakra. It'll take a while to learn to control, but you can channel your ice techniques through it."

The blade shattered into nothingness, and the hilt dropped from Ren's hand. Sora rushed to help him prop against the wall, but he waved her off with a feeble flick of the wrist. "Sora, both the swords are yours."

Panic bubbled in Sora's chest. Ren's tone sounded so…final. "What? No. You keep one of them, Ren. You'll need it. I don't need two. Your arm's gonna get better so you should keep one—"

He chuckled. "You're forgetting that I'm a rubbish samurai." He gestured to their father's dagger and winked. "I think I'll stick with this."

A grimace flashed across his face as he twisted away from her, peeling back his shirt to examine the gash along his flank.

Sora hissed at the sight. His entire right side was purple, with blackish veins tracing across his shoulder and chest. Poison.

"Ah, looks nasty, doesn't it." Ren quickly closed his shirt. He shrugged nonchalantly, though the very action caused his jaw to stiffen. "I've had worse. A couple days of rest, and I should be… good as new. Don't…don't you worry. Sora. Don't you…"

Slipping from his position against the wall, Ren's head flopped to one side, resting on their backpack. "Let's …get some sleep, Sora. Come on."

For several moments, Sora was frozen, listening to the sound of Ren's laboured breathing as he slipped out of consciousness. His entire body was trembling, but she didn't know if she could risk dragging him closer to the fire.

Please last the night, she begged, half to Ren, and half to whatever God might be hovering over them.

She gripped the fallen hilt and sheathed her mother's sword. Tomorrow. Tomorrow she would find him a healer, no matter the consequences. As for tonight…

She curled up against his shivering frame, brushed a finger across his cracked, bluish lips. For now, he just needed to make it through the night. Pulling the already asleep Hikaru into the crook of her shoulder, she pressed her ear against Ren's heart, the sound of his erratic pulse oddly soothing as she allowed her eyelids to droop.

She fell asleep with her head laid gently against his chest, listening to the thump-thump of his ailing heart, slowly faltering.

Phew! Finally got that prologue out of the way. Kakashi to come very soon, I promise. Thanks so much for reading, and if you feel so inclined, please leave a review! I'd love to know what you think of my writing, even if you absolutely hated it and want to tell me that everything sucked. After all, criticism is how we grow as writers right?

Until next time,

Steel n Honey