A/N: This chapter is intentionally written in an abstract, introspective writing style. Lots of 'tell,' lots of repetition. This is both a plot point and a stylistic choice - luckily for her, Mina is not one of those SIs who are born lucid. It takes her four years to become fully 'aware,' again, and - as this chapter covers those four years - the writing reflects that. It's a little hard to swallow, but fear not; the next chapters are all written in a much more approachable, concrete style. Feel free to skip it if it bothers any of you overmuch.
Second Verse
0.1 Not the Same as the First
(Summary: ...Apparently, not the same as the first. (SI-OC as Namikaze Minato, AU.))
Every day she looks in the mirror. Every day she feels the urge to break it.
Until today.
Today, there is a strand of auburn brown in her white-gold hair.
And so she laughs and laughs and screams until she cries,
But,
In the morning,
She feels human again.
Her saving grace is, of all people, Orochimaru.
Not the man himself. No, never him. More the idea of him, the things he's done or will do, whichever.
She has done a lot of thinking, these past four years. About the world she's left behind, about the world waiting before her, about everything she has done and will do. About survival and struggling and selfishness.
It hadn't taken her long to recognize the mountain, the headbands, the physics-defying ninja bullshit. She hates the world she was born in, hates what the people in this village will do and have done, hates how weak she feels when she sees a ninja with black hair and white skin and yellow eyes stroll down the street as if his hands aren't stained with blood and his heart blackened and corrupted by sin-
But she is relieved. She is relieved because she wasn't born in the Mist or the Sand, because this world represents the potential for strength and opportunity and camaraderie, because Orochimaru's loathsome presence reminds her about one, fundamental fact of the universe-
Whenever he tore his soul from his body and placed it into someone else's, it was only a matter of time before his true self began to shine through. His hair would return, and his eyes, and his skin, and his build and muscle and sex, until he was himself again. This had been a problem for him, but it isn't for her. For her, it is hope.
She hates this body. It is strong and fast and cunning, its skin is flawless and its hair is glossy and its physical capabilities are beyond perfection, for its age-
But it is also male.
And she isn't.
She couldn't handle it. She broke. She stopped eating, stopped sleeping, stopped playing and reading and living. The Orphanage caretakers had a collective aneurism trying to figure out what was wrong with her. The other orphans couldn't understand her, and stayed away. She didn't leave her room for months at a time. If it hadn't been for an older roommate, a girl named Yakushi Nonō, she flat-out would not have made it.
And, every day, she stares into a mirror and hopesbegspleads for her true self to shine through. But it never did.
Until today.
Today, there is a strand of auburn brown in her white-gold hair.
And so she laughs and laughs and screams until she cries,
But,
In the morning,
She feels human again.
It has been four years since she was born.
It has been four years since she died.
She doesn't remember it. Or, maybe, she does, and she repressed the memory out of horror and fear. That sounds like something she'd do. That sounds like something anyone would do. There were never any case studies on how traumatic dying is, for obvious reasons, and the same goes for being reborn, but she doesn't need a peer review board to declare it horrible. She doesn't need a lot of things, anymore.
Her life was… it hadn't been bad. It wasn't great, but that was less a problem of environmental factors and more an issue of her own making. She had everything she needed to be happy, in the end, and her inability to fit those pieces together into a joyous whole was entirely her fault. She would never get the chance to fix that, and that? That's all on her, too.
She hopes that she could do a better job, this time around. She isn't off to the greatest of starts. She doesn't remember that, either – infantile amnesia is a blessed, blessed thing - but her father died on the front lines and her mother in childbirth, one hawk's flight and a sunrise later. For all her vaunted shinobi ancestry, for all their years of faithful service, she wound up in the orphanage anyway.
It- it could be worse. Three square meals a day, enough blankets to go around, thick walls to hold off the winter, and an army of Genin on D-Ranks alongside kind civilians ensure that the Sun Goddess Orphanage of the Hidden Leaf - or the 'Terasu, for 'Amaterasu' - is caught in a permanent cycle of bustling, warm, and the quiet sort of loud that soothes the soul. It's hard to feel lonely, in the 'Terasu, and, really, that's all that matters.
Of course, her being her, she manages it anyway. Screaming, giggling, mindless children and a reborn librarian mix like water and wine. She'd always wanted a child of her own, but she couldn't handle more than one. Just watching them run around exhausts her, and she has neither the inclination nor the mental endurance to fake that kind of energy for long.
This leaves her with few friends and even fewer prospective parents. It's reassuring to see that the thoughtless cruelty of children transcends reality, for it to characterize both of her homeworlds so thoroughly. It shouldn't hurt; what kind of adult is emotionally wounded by the barbs of children still unable to read? One whom is not an adult at all. Their words should trickle down her back, like water. They shouldn't draw blood.
At least she was reborn human - there are worse races out there, like the Krogan, or the Zerg. Really, she should be less ungrateful.
Besides, she does have one friend.
"Hi! M'names Nonō. What's yours?"
"…Namikaze Minato."
Nonō is- she doesn't know. Nonō will be so kind that she'll be the only ANBU to throw off ROOT's mental conditioning, and so caring that she'll devote her life to an orphanage. She'll be so skilled that she'll be crowned the Captain of the Medic Corps, and so strong that Danzō himself let her retire from ROOT - if only for a while.
She'll also be a serial murderer with blood on her hands.
Aa, sorry. A loyal shinobi of the village.
When in Rome, she thinks. Do as the Romans do.
She's eight months old when the shinobi come. A red-eyed man, Yūhi Shinku, and a trio of Genin nipping at his heels. All the orphans gather 'round in a large, open semi-circle, and watch as he breathes fire and juggles knives and drowns the building under a tide of rose petals - and lets the illusion shatter.
A circus act to entertain children, or a blatant attempt to entice potential shinobi trainees? She doesn't know. Maybe a bit of both. What she does know, is that the orphanage was a little less full the next morning, and there was a little more food and blankets and hugs to go around.
"I wanna be one of them," Nonō admits. "He looked so fearless."
"…Mm."
Life goes on. More and more children leave to join the Corps, and more and more children arrive as their fathers and mothers and brothers and sisters die in service to the Village. A cycle. An endless, spiteful cycle of blood and hate and death. She wants to end it all.
She probably could, too. Was Namikaze Minato not one of the children of prophecy? And does she not have a wealth of knowledge on mathematics, sciences, philosophy, and ethics that this world sorely needs?
It doesn't matter, she supposes. She may have his name and face, but she is not and never will be Namikaze Minato. She won't touch Uzumaki Kushina with a ten-foot pole, she won't step within a thousand feet of Sannin Jiraiya, and if Sarutobi Hiruzen ever offers her the hat she's going to politely laugh in his face. She's not the savior this world needs and since that savior will never be born without her procreating with a woman, well, then the world's fucked.
That's fine. She maintained that her rebirth is one of divine accident, not providence. She's not Atlas, she can't carry the sky on her shoulders, and if anyone - including herself - asks her to, she's going to curl up into a ball and cry until they stop.
No. She's going to reach Chūnin, lose a leg, and become a paperwork ninja. She's going to conveniently be out of the village during all of the horrible, horrible shit that goes down. She's going to find herself a nice man and maybe adopt a child or two. And she's going to die peacefully and in her sleep.
Alternately, she'll become so powerful that she can freely walk out of the village and no one can stop her. She'll essentially pull a Sannin, but she won't make the mistake of ever coming back. Maybe she'll open up an inn in Frost, or fall in love with a samurai from Iron, or cross the sea and leave the entire cursed continent behind - she doesn't know. All she can do is dream.
But she doesn't train. Four years come and go and she never so much as tries to reach for her chakra, or dance through a kata, or chase the wind. What's the point? If she couldn't be herself, then she shouldn't be at all.
Until today.
Today, there is a strand of auburn brown in her white-gold hair.
And so she laughs and laughs and screams until she cries,
But,
In the morning,
She feels human again.
That's a lie. She has channeled chakra before.
She was three years old when her only friend left her. …That's not fair; Academy students are given studio apartments, to take the strain off of 'Terasu and as a test of maturity. Nonō had been five for half of a year, "Practically an adult!," and she didn't need to stay in a dorm with toddlers and toys and tantrums - she needs to train, to learn how to breathe fire and juggle knives and cast illusions, and she can't do that in an orphanage.
She understands. Really, she does. Nonō had chosen the only logical choice. Her training is of vast importance, because, when she'll be cold and alone and exhausted on the front lines, her ability to breathe fire and juggle knives and cast illusions will be the only thing in between her and a brutal, messy death - and isn't that more important than a three-year-old orphan? Of course. Of course it is.
But when a constant companion becomes an every-other-week visitor, she can't help but feel abandoned.
"I know just the thing!" Nonō smiles. "I'll show you how to use chakra, and you can join me, next year!"
"Aa?" She blinks. "…Okay."
Chakra is- it is. That's all she can say to describe it. It merely is, in a way that transcends description.
Maybe she's being lazy. Maybe it's bright and primal and wondrous, and she doesn't want to bring out her big-girl words and describe it like an adult would. Or, maybe, there aren't any words that can adequately describe it. Maybe the only word she can use is "muchness," and, whenever she channels it, she feels much more "muchier."
It is vitality, the natural essence of life itself. And it makes her feel alive.
It also makes spiraling, black ink coil and twist and wind around her skin, her flesh, her soul, and she screams.
"Fūinjutsu," Nonō breathes in awe. "That's so cool!"
"…Please… Get it off of me…"
She no longer believes her rebirth to be divine accident. No. It is the working of man.
But, the question - which man? Danzō? He always did prefer working with children, where he could. Orochimaru? Human experimentation was always his 'thing.' What about Uzumaki Mito - the sealing script has her clan's distinctive spiral, after all. Or, maybe, it was her deceased parents - who else would have ready access to her body, and the privacy to Seal… something?
Maybe she'll find out, one day. Maybe a plucky protagonist will reveal it to her in mankind's final hour, thus earning her loyalty or striking her down with remorse for her war crimes. Maybe the antagonist will hold the knowledge over her head, thus earning her reluctant obedience. Or, maybe, it was all in her head all along.
Well, fuck that. She's not going to live her life by narrative convention.
"Sister? Where do the Uzumaki live?"
"Hoh…?" Nonō shrugs. "Just east of the Hokage's Tower. It's a huge, rose-red manor, kinda garish looking. You can't miss it."
She stumbled over an explanation to the half-asleep Genin at the gate, and he shrugged her in after seeing the Fūinjutsu on her skin and pricking her with a needle. From there, it takes her twenty minutes of walking for her tiny legs and even tinier endurance to bring her to a sliding, Japanese door.
What follows is a traditional sequence of seiza-style sitting, disgusting tea, and trying to speak past her baby lisp. The bored-looking brunet kid twice her age just shrugged when she finished her ten-minute, meandering monologue, and comes back with a tall, blonde woman with amber eyes.
Her first thought was, "Holy hell, those things are huge." The second was, "Please don't see me looking please don't I like my internal organs internal please please please I'm just a kid-"
Tsunade didn't say a word, just gave a disgusted huff at being drawn away from Important Sannin Stuff, even though she hasn't been made Sannin yet. Meanwhile, she - Mina, she won't be Minato, she'll never be Minato - stumbled over her life story and made an even bigger mess of it than she had when just Nawaki was in the room.
At the end of it, Tsunade copied her brother's shrug and walked away. She returned with a beautiful red-haired woman some five minutes later.
"Let me see the Seal, child," Uzumaki Mito said.
Mina let her see the Seal.
For the next ten minutes, Mito hummed and hawed and took the occasional sip from Mina's cup of tea, and eventually came to a realization.
"I'm the only person in the village who can comprehend this Seal," she said. "You can go to no one else for your answers - except, I suppose, whoever put it on you... if you believe it wise."
Mina narrowed her eyes. Is she really…?
"Of course, I'm a kunoichi. I don't work for free."
She is. Mina sighed. "What do you want?"
"In four years, someone will come to the village. You will become that someone's friend, confidante, and - should the need arise - savior… even at the cost of your life. Should that someone die, so will you. I will… ensure it."
Mina left five minutes later, the weight of her promises and answers heavier than the sky. They bore down on her, heavier and heavier, until all she can do is scream into a pillow and wait out the night. At times, the fear becomes so thick that she can't breathe, lest she choke on it-
And it feels like there will never be any respite.
Until today.
Today, there is a strand of auburn brown in her white-gold hair.
And so she laughs and laughs and screams until she cries,
But,
In the morning,
She feels human again.
Her saving grace is, of all people, Orochimaru.
In more ways than one.
"Fūinjutsu seals one thing inside of another. At the end of the day, that is all it can do," Mito had told her. "This is a summoning array, keyed not to a summons' clan but the Shinigami's realm. It pulled a soul out of his clutches and sealed it inside of your flesh."
The technique was the unholy bastard child of the Edo Tensei and Orochimaru's Possession ability. Or, more accurately, it was the child of the first and the father of the second. That's what she was, right? Just an experiment to Orochimaru? He was a mad scientist, and no scientist would test such an insanely dangerous technique on themselves, not when there was a village of children they could experiment on instead.
And, who else could it be? If Mito was the kind of woman to do this sort of thing, she wouldn't have died, in canon. The same goes for Danzō, may he burn in hell. No, the only character - no, shinobi, they're not characters anymore, and they never have been - to use soul techniques was the Snake Sannin.
And his teammate was in the room with them, when Mina was told. It's only a matter of time until Tsunade mentions the entire conversation to him offhand. And, then…
…What?
What will happen to her?
Orochimaru will know his experiment was a success.
Will he come for her?
…
"… …hey, Nonō?"
"Aa, Micchan?"
"When does the next Academy year start?"
Namikaze Mina has a plan.
She is going to become so famous, so openly prodigious, that no one could disappear her.
And, then?
She is going to become so powerful that she will never feel afraid again.
(She will never feel afraid again.)
No matter what it takes.
A/N: Mina is female in mind and soul and male in body. This makes her completely female. Let's all be respectful, yeah?
This story will probably have a lot of unusual writing styles. That's kind of intentional. This thread is a sandbox, for me, to see what works and what doesn't. Trying new stuff is the best way to improve, yeah? Well, that and endless practice.
The Stations of the Canon have been pillaged, burned, and danced on, to the lamentations of its women.
Mina will probably become S-Rank... eventually. At the very end of the story. Maybe. If she doesn't get killed beforehand (totally possible). We'll see, I guess.
Timeline shuffling behind the scenes is a-go.
I think that's everything? Eh.
Oh, yeah. This story is being simulposted on SufficientVelocity. Same story name, same author name.