begin again | chapter one

butterfly born

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ultimate tuna noodle casserole

a comforting and reliable dish, perfect for funeral receptions. made with tuna, noodles, and cream of celery.

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prep time: 5 minutes

cook time: 40 minutes

cuisine: american


I'd known from the start everything was different now.

It all began with my name—my new name. I knew I already had a name—cherished it for seventeen-odd years, I did!—that began everything. Chouyo Akimichi, a name too precise to be a mere coincidence, was given to me. I was stuck in my own woes, my own mind, waiting waiting waiting for this newborn body to open its eyes, magically understand Japanese, and piece together the clues.

Months went by, months filled by sleep, worrying, fear, and trying to reprogram my mind into a world of loud, boisterous people. Always was a certain bundle of warmth was near me, a boy with a name I couldn't yet accept through my layers of denial-to-keep-me-sane.

When my eyes could begin to process things instead of a big blury mess, I couldn't deny the truth any more.

Before me was a body curled in on itself with wild, brown hair and red hues on chubby cheeks. He was chubby, way chubbier than a baby should be at his age. Looking down, so was I. His eyes were shut tight, but his body was relaxed in sleep. He looked so familiar. Uncanny resemblance, an identical copy.

Was that Chouji Akimichi? From a show? A series?

The first of May, five months ago, he was born—we were born! Chouji and Chouyo, though I was born first; it was all too natural to add my name at the end. We were twins. Chouji Akimichi did not have any siblings, certainly no older twin.

If that wasn't already bad enough, six days later the Nine Tails attacked.

The atmosphere was vile and wrong, vengeful and overwhelming. Chouji wailed and I found myself doing the same involuntarily. Strong arms held me—Chouji, sounding close, had to be near me—and carried me to a place of nothingness. Calm, spiraling energy with a cool zephyr. My eyes wouldn't open. My body was still too stiff to move. Adults comforted me while I tried to gain control again.

I was terrified. Tonight, the Fourth died! Naruto was born! I was a child who would grow up and meet the jinchuuriki boy. I was Chouji's sister! I was panicking as well as overloading myself with anxiety! I was having an anxiety attack and a panic attack all at once. No wonder did someone force me to sleep!

I woke up two days later, back in bed. Our house suffered damage, but not anything a royal shinobi family could handle. From my broken wall, I saw the village in shambles, in a somber state, and realized with a start I can have an effect in this world; all of it; I know everything that had, has, and will have happened in this world. This is my domain.


It didn't take long to realize that the Akimichi Clan was the embodiment of camaraderie. Anybody who was a natural born Akimichi was family—they treated distant cousins like close sisters and brothers. Meal was five times a day: Morning, Noon, Late Noon, Evening, and Midnight and they were huge! Evening meals were the biggest, loudest, and most exciting of them all. In the center of the Akimichi Compound was a gigantic mess hall with a domed ceiling, murals on all the walls depicting grand nature landscapes, and the Japanese character for food everywhere: columns, walls, tabletops.

Even though the Akimichi had a flair for eating, it was really impressive to see how clean everything was.

By the time Chouji and I were five months, our mama fed us in gusto. She fed us milk far more often than my old mother fed me, plus began to add thick oatmeal to our diets. We were beginning to pack fat this early. I'll admit, the extra weight felt suffocating at times, being used to a thin body for decades.

Approaching one, it was our papa that loved to bring Chouji and me to the mess hall where I discovered that this was the heart and soul of the clan. (That a ruler should go here and become intimately aware of their people.)

My papa, the Fifteenth Head of the Akimichi Clan Chouza Akimichi, loved our company. His voiced carried, and there something so comforting to be close to the strongest guy in the entire room. Like most, his eyes were perpetually closed and made his rounded face even more so. Whereas Chouji got his hair from our mama, I got his burgundy hair (that I have to force into two, frizzy pigtails). Papa reminded me of a hedgehog or a porcupine by the way his massive hair cocooned his back.

During mealtimes, either cradled in Papa's large warmth or within Mama's familiar arms, the mess hall was filled by the noises of teeth ripping through food or the loud chatterings of Akimichi everywhere discussing their lives. Most of their words were lost on me due to my imperfect grasp of the language. But I found out that total language immersion had rapidly increased my learning speed. At least, in my old world, it would take a year what took me in a couple months now.

Chouji, as sweet as he was, wasn't too keen on interacting a lot. He became fussy when he was surrounded by too many people for too long and needed to recharge. I was fascinated by this new world and couldn't get enough of babbling to my family in butchered Japanese, and enjoying their delighted giggles at my stunts! Their happiness became my own. Mealtimes were more for entertaining my audience than eating.

My family had a spectrum from slightly chubby to completely obese. The thinnest people were usually married-in women or the sick. The heaviest people were elders and elite Akimichi shinobi. In a clan known for turning their fat into power, who wouldn't want to pack on a few pounds? Granted some hated to be compared to beauty standards of a slim waist and curvy body and would fight you for mentioning it so insensitively. Like the rest, I had my own share of fat and—surprise, surprise!—I was not weighed down at all.

Even though I was far heavier than a normal baby, I was not slow or sluggish like a "fat" person should be. Be it the chakra circulating and growing within me, or because of my uniqueness, I felt as if I had the body of an athlete!

So even though my tummy bounced as I ran, I felt alive. Chouji, on the other hand, didn't like to use all his energy. He liked to think because he was so "big-boned" he couldn't possibly be super fast. He wasn't telling me it, but I was certain the issued lied between lack of confidence and humility.

I had a fun time entertaining my giant family at mealtimes. It was hard to know when to stop until Mama forced me to sit and eat.

"Chouza-chan, Umami-chan, your little daughter is very adorable!" I knew the voice keenly. She had a thick, Japanese accent and favored some slightly archaic words and styles. She made it rather difficult to comprehend the full meaning of her words. Me being less than one year alive, and all. "Look at her bright eyes! Is not Chouyo-cchi so — — mm?"

It had to be a compliment. The woman scooped me up, and I was cradled by a mix of thick arms and a large chest. She was one of the elders that acted like legislators in the world I left behind, with Papa being the Prime Minister. And whenever the Elders and Papa weren't in meetings, the Elders were the ceremonial heads to the Akimichi Clan; they're there to look good whilst Papa actually makes the decisions.

Still, I had no doubt Granny Mochi—her name—was a formidable shinobi in her youth! She was covered in scars as a reminder of her bravery or foolishness during the wars, visible due to her short-sleeved kimono and her skirt that rode up her thick calves. I'd seen her shut eyes open once before to reveal baby blues, and her eyelids were painted lavender.

I pulled at her thinning, gray hair 'cause I saw babies do that to others, including me. I didn't pull so hard as to hurt her. Granny Mochi laughed as my fingers grazed her ceremonial head pin: a poppy flower coated in gold on its contour.

Papa spoke Japanese too fast for me, but smiled and poked my cheek.

As Granny Mochi cradled me, urging me to pronounce her name, not knowing my first word was the ever typical "papa" (my mouth just could not form mo - chi - o - baa - baa), the other Elders grew near. I heard Chouji whining, probably due to all the people in such a small space. As if Granny Mochi flicked a button, Elders went from admiring me from afar to close-up.

I grinned and made loud sounds to please them, squirming all the while.

"Chouyo-cchi is very bright indeed! Like a—summer—sky—happiness," is what I gathered; didn't help as the mess hall picked up volume. "I believe in my little butterfly..." And I saw heads bobbing in agreement.


Our first birthday was spectacular.

Papa was the Fifteenth Head. That royalty made for certain Chouji and I would receive a good party. What we got was way more than expected.

I'd grew up with parents telling me never to eat deserts before eating my meal. Well, lined up on the table was every kind of Japanese desert one could imagine and then more. The party was outside with a picnic-theme to it, yet it smelled like sugar and corn syrup and whipped cream... the best of all was Granny Mochi's cake (that Papa was adamant I eat first): sweet, crunchy, thick, goodness.

Being an Akimichi, we had amazing noses and tongues... regarding food, of course. We were picky eaters—no, we were vicious eaters. No one no one no one tolerated poorly prepared food or cheap alternatives. Food was a sacred art. It deserved to be treated with respect.

That turned every Akimichi into a Gordon Ramsay.

The deserts served were top of the line. As the birthday twins, we stuffed our faces—obliterated them! Never had I tasted such magnificent food. I could almost cry.

We got few presents since most of an Akimichi's concern is centered around food. I got a few workbooks to start my academics and a pretty, sage green dress with floral design and a princess-y appeal. Chouji got typical boy and ninja toys. Our aunt even bought him ninja underwear with the phrase "Will of Fire" on them. I laughed, shortly before she gave me a matching pair.

Chouji and I were bears. We slept the first week of our first year and woke up with more fat. When we were finally coherent enough to be productive humans, Papa sat us in two chairs, a short distance apart, and took something out his pocket.

In his hand was a plate with an array of dried colors, almost like water-color paint that hadn't been used. Quickly, he pricked us with a needle. The pain was delayed. Chouji whined and I got silent, annoyed from the pain radiating from my arm.

Papa hovered our needles over the paint-looking palette. Chouji's blood dropped on the red one. My blood dropped on the green one. At once, the blood turned the dried slab into a liquid mess. Papa manifested a brush, dipped it into the red, and drew spirals on Chouji's cheeks.

Oh! I babbled, trying to get my Papa to speed up!

A new brush was dipped into the green paint and Papa hovered it near my face. It radiated me. The brush was lowered just under my eyes, warm and breathing. He marked me with a quick tap, three more times in a row. Then he mirrored under my left eye. One last line fell under my bottom lip to my chin. The paint? dried fast. I felt the remnants of extreme warmth before it began to match my temperature. Touching it, I found no smearing.

"There you are, little ones," Papa chuckled, holding a mirror for us to see. "You are truly Akimichi now."


Being in a shinobi family meant starting young. Obviously Chouji and I would have to become shinobi. We weren't limited to field shinobi jobs, though. So long as we were involved in the shinobi career pathway.

We would exercise everyday in the mornings, noon, and evenings. The routines were really slow and easy for us. Every fortnight we would make the routine slightly more difficult.

Whenever Papa wasn't busy, Mama taught us. And when she was swept away to help her husband, another would teach us. We got lucky and had Mama with us today.

Mama was definitely married-in. She had tree trunk colored hair that curled around her face and chest. Her black eyes were almost dark gray plus were big and owlishly wide like mine. Her skin was tanned because she loved the outdoors. Always did she wear an apron tied to her kimono—the blue violet robes betraying her plump body underneath. Her fat was centered around her torso almost like a pregnant woman.

Mama rarely, if ever, wore shinobi shoes. She stuck to sandals or barefeet. Her feet were perfectly manicured, so at least she wasn't neglectful. Whereas Papa was more discreet, Mama was loud and bubbly with red circles painted on her cheeks in resemblance to a permanent blush.

"Good job, Joji," Mama praised Chouji using his nickname. "You're doing a phenomenal job! Good enthusiasm, Joyo!"

I giggled—thrilled I was getting this body closer and closer to my older body—and Chouji blushed. We were trying to reach our toes while sitting. Chouji grabbed his shins while I reached my foot to my head, with difficulty due to my belly.

"Aaaaand relax! We deserve a break, don't we? I think we've made great progress, hm?"

Chouji flopped over, grasping for a box of candies he stuck in his pants. I continued exercising and stole pieces of his candy: chocolate covered pickle slices. Mm.

Mama helped me with a few stretches I did wrong, saying, "We Akimichi need to keep our bodies in tip-top shape! We need to be able to elongate our body as needed! You see what Papa does when he fights? That's not something you gain overnight, you know." Mama tickled my belly and sent me falling into a fit of laughter.

I really wanted to know how Mama met Papa. Did something like Minato and Kushina happen? Was it cuter than that? I was barely reaching two, so if I were to ask, Mama would give me the saccharine sweet toddler version.

I liked how this family was very similar to my American family. A trip outside our compound would see that the Leaf villagers were so obviously Japanese! My family would calm down considerably in public as to not be too different. At least the transition of an entirely new culture wasn't such a jarring event. I could take my time unlearning the instincts I'd built and become something new.

Aside from eating and exercising, I kept more active than Chouji. I couldn't lose fat easily—I could barely lose it at all! I kept my body moving for I didn't want to mess with chakra without a master. I could kill myself alone. Really, what right did I have fooling around with such a dangerous thing at two? What if I flipped a switch and started burning fat? Either I could die, or my parents would know their toddler is far more advanced than anticipated.

Using this new bionic body was way more fun. Running miles in under seven minutes, upper body strength that could make teen boys cry, stamina I dreamed in my past life... my zest for living was easy to notice and was what got my mama to teach me a new technique.

"Meditation," Mama said, in a tone implying the word meant something on par with Bijuu Mode or the First's Wood Release techniques. "The great masters say you must train the body, the heart, and the mind. Muscular fitness helps the body perform well externally, cardio fitness helps the body perform internally, and mind fitness helps the body perform well mentally."

"Don't wanna," I pouted with my minimal Japanese. Meditation was good for spiritual energy, meaning chakra. But I didn't want to use chakra just yet. Sounded like pouring salt into a bitter wound.

"Now, now, Joyo, health is a two way street! If you don't keep your mind in tip top shape, you won't be able to push past your barriers and grow! There is always a point in training where you don't want to get up and work immediately. You want to procrastinate and skip your training. Or maybe you can't push yourself hard enough to keep going. There's a little voice in your head: 'We've dunna lotta work today! It's okay to give up and take a looong break!' If you give in, it shows how weak you really are mentally. That will come in bite you in the butt later in life." Mama made a fist and grinned. "So let's conquer it now rather than later, huh?!"

Couldn't argue her words. So Mama ended up teaching me after all.

"Breathe in and out naturally. Focus on your breathing and only your breathing. If you get off track, start all over."

She'd obviously been doing it a long, long time. I guess it made sense; I saw plenty of martial arts movies where the artists would meditate before a battle, though I never really understood the point of it. I thought it to be a "rule of cool"—like backflips lasting ten seconds too long, dust generated from smacking the ground, floating! in the air to pull off epic kicks—the "rule of cool" turned out to be pretty darn difficult.

Within ten seconds, my mind wandered. I spent countless time restarting. Mama was like a statue with her mastery. Could meditation really help me? It couldn't hurt... but why was it so hard to sit still and do nothing but breathe?

"It's not supposed to be easy," Mama told me afterwards. "You'll grow into it. Let's start at 30 seconds and work our way up to 5 minutes. That should be enough, huh?"

Mama was still jolly and confident in her daughter. It was infectious. "Yeah..."

"Yay! Alright, exercise in mornings and meditations in the afternoon! Usually I do mine before I go to sleep, but my little one passes out after dinner," and she pinched my chubby cheeks.

"Can't help it!" I wailed through laughter and tried to pry myself away. Rather than be called "autumn road," we should be called bears. Far more suitable!


When Chouji and I turned three and five, we had even more elaborate birthday parties. Supposedly in the past, children died so frequently that if a child made past the three-five-seven year markers, they were sure to be adults—at least teenagers.

An Akimichi loved holidays, festivals, parades, and parties. They all boiled down to good eating, good-er conversations, and good-est sleep, but each party was still unique enough to be remembered!

When I hit five years of age, Mama began teaching Chouji and I how to cook real good. Training didn't start at preparing dishes. Rather, it began with fully understanding every spice's aroma and taste. Learning "ingredient families"—what fruits or vegetables tasted sweet, sour, bitter, more. Understanding the presentation of dish—what colors could stimulate hunger the most, how to keep the dish looking good enough to eat. Two gluttonous children enjoyed our "food boot camp!"

"What's this again?" I said to my brother, holding a small jar filled with greenish dust the color of my dress.

Chouji leaned and sniffed the closed jar. "That's parsley. 'S gotta earthy, kinda bitter mmph to it. You forgot again, Joyo?"

"I know that stuff, just—I don't really get the names and looks of all these things," I responded in slangy, shortened Japanese. I had so many things to remember that ingredients never stuck in my head. Heck, if it tasted good, use it!

"You're gonna fail Mama's test like that. You gotta study..."

"I wish we got twin telepathy," I said instead, smiling. "'Cause you could think all the answers to me, Joji!"

Chouji scrunched his face in thought. "You mean... you wanna be Yamanaka? I kinda like my own family, though..."

I ruffled his hair, to cheer him up. I was glad Chouji was my brother. He was so sensitive, honest, and caring. If I did anything weird, it didn't bother him much. If I was forced to be the sibling of any other Rookie Nine, I was greatful it's Chouji. Plus it was sort of cool being in this clan where obesity-related health problems were no big deal like normal villagers! We'd been a big-boned family for decades, probably a century. Our body had adapted to the surplus fat whereas the villagers adapted to the lack thereof.

But! That did not mean "eat everything little thing in sight whenever." Obesity was still an issue amongst those who were 400 pounds plus. And it was always a threat if an Akimichi didn't eat proper foods to support our hard-working heart.

Above all, cardio ended up the main fitness—not muscular training nor mental training—every Akimichi had to do in some point in their lives.

On the topic of hearts, it reminded me about my death.

I had years to cope with my death and years to cope with being Chouji's sister. Admittedly, I thought it was a little embarrassing; Chouji never really accomplished anything grand. His fight in the Chuunin Exams was... lackluster. And when he and Ino helped Shikamaru against Kakuzu, I wasn't really impressed. It felt as though he was holding Shikamaru back.

Some of those feelings lingered. Most of my feelings were now more for his well-being. Because, crap, he was going to lose his teacher! He was going to be bullied over his weight and be too gentle to stand up! He was going to become a side character with so little screen time and development! Being with him 24/7 like this, I knew knew knew my little brother was amazing! He just needed a little helping hand.

"I don't like my family," I said, watching as Chouji stared at me, bewilderment making his eyes wide. "I love my family, Joji!"

He relaxed and grumbled a bit, "That's real cheesy..."

"But it's true!"

"Yeah, yeah. Study so you don't fail tomorrow..."

I grabbed another jar, one filled with a reddish-orange powder. "What's this, Joji?"

"That's..." His eyes went real wide, almost reminding me of an adorable piglet (as his twin, didn't that mean I looked like a piglet, too?). "That's the chili powder for the chili pill!"

I heard it before. I didn't know whether it was from this world or my Olden World. "The what?"

"That's super spicy like that! You can already smell the heat!"

"Oh..."

This jar was like Thai food! Or like Indian curry! I was enchanted by this strange world of ninja, wanting to try everything, and so I popped open the jar and ate a tablespoon of the powder.

"Chouyo!"

I figured if anything went wrong, there was medical ninja. Sides—what harm could a little spice do? Milk was the best cure for spice! And ice cream was an even better remedy!

My lips began to burn.

Followed by my tongue, the inside of my cheeks, my throat—I smelled heat.

Was my face swollen? Felt like it! I was a balloon! There was a waterfall leaking out my nose! Had my skin always been this red?

I kept breathing with my mouth open. Cool air blew the heat around in my body.

"Mama!" Chouji gave me one terrified look before dashing deeper into our home.

I jumped off the stool and headed to the fridge about four times my height and width (which is saying much due to my chubbiness). I snatched the milk bag still breathing fire like a dragon, and guzzled down as much of the cold, white gold...

A thousand needles were pricking my mouth without stop. My temperature could rival the surface of the Sun!

"Chouyo Akimichi."

I turned around like a creaky door. Not a big fan at seeing angry mamas. Specially not my mama.

She was slightly disgruntled. Fists at her hips, face as crimson as her painted cheeks and my hair, grayish eyes a frosty murder. "Didn't Mama tell you never eat out the jars?"

I couldn't argue back—mostly 'cause the only thing I could do is resist the urge to guzzle more milk.

"She wanted to know what was in it," Chouji offered.

"Maybe so. But your sister needs to learn self-control! And so Chouyo must be punished!"

"Mama—"

"I won't take any no's, Joji."

...on the bright side, I got to see what a real ninja punishment was.

After the milk settled to where I was in no danger of puking and the burn was a dull throb, Mama punished me.

Said punishment was no dinner. Both dinners. By morning, my gut was howling like banshee and throbbed. The hollowness of hunger burned fair more than that chili powder.


For a long time, we weren't bound to any leadership duty. One of us had to become the Sixteenth Head in the future, but who? It was too soon to tell.

Chouji was kind, gentle, observant. Though he wasn't the most extroverted, he cared a lot about others and their wellbeing far before his own. He didn't have courage as he liked to hide behind his sister. That could be changed in time.

Chouyo, me—I lacked the ability to see how others could see me. I figured most saw me as enthusiastic and inquisitive. I tried to keep my achievements the same as Chouji, to keep from getting too much attention on myself (what if Chouji got jealous of me? what if Danzou got his hands on me?). I loved working out, though, whereas Chouji adored cooking, so my stamina and endurance were amazing for a kid my age.

And it made it that much harder for Mama to get me to sleep at night. Even though I was much older than I was physically, I so wanted to be a child again! And that meant running around the house, trying to avoid sleeping!

One afternoon, when Chouji and I were exercising, Papa separated me from Chouji—already a bad sign. He set me on his shoulders, I gripped his shaggy, burgundy hair, and he carried me out the backyard and down the pebbled pathway. I saw a few Akimichi outside their homes, playing Japanese games or chatting in groups. I waved to them as Papa did, receiving smiles the adults couldn't keep from appearing.

He took me to a place I'd never been before: a hemisphere-shaped building near the back. When the vertical wall began to curve, glass was there, slightly foggy, and continued up to the apex and back down all around. I saw greenery throughout the glass. Papa opened the curved double doors and humid heat pelted me. It smelt like earth—and so many delicious spices, my mouth was watering!

Then I saw it. As the doors shut behind us, the sound caused a thousand colors to swarm the sky. Vivid blues, burnt oranges, yellows, lavender—"Oh, Papa! Butterflies!"

He chuckled as I strained myself to see the beautiful creatures resting on the huge expanse of shrubs, bushes, leaves. Flowers of all kinds and shapes perfumed the garden. "Welcome, Joyo. This is where your and my name comes from: butterflies. At first, one would assume the word 'butterfly' is too delicate to refer to people such as us."

Papa's arm grew, stretched like gum to reach the ceiling, and carried us with it. Hanging at the top, I could see the entirety of the butterfly garden. So many colors! Patterns!

"But that would be misunderstanding why we are the butterfly clan. It is not a description of who we are. Rather, it's a description of what we are and what we want to show others." He gestured all around us. "We are vibrant, beautiful, and free. Most villagers are weighed down with the solemnity of the yet-to-come. We Akimichi live in the present. We will do whatever we can to make the present most liveable."

"I see," I told him, giddy and jolly. "I get it now! We are butterflies!"

"Yes, correct. And as my daughter, you'll become the Sixteenth Head one day. You'll lead the Akimichi Clan to success."

"Joji too. We're twins, Papa!" Honestly, I didn't think I had it in me—to lead and try to change the future as well. Chouji would help me, no questions asked!

"Yes. That may happen as well." He paused. I rested my chin on his head. I didn't get the luxury of having a papa when I was from another time. "When you are six, you will attend the Ninja Academy, little one. You'll graduate and go on to become a brilliant kunoichi."

"Uh-huh!" Still, I had to spend six years in school all over again. It was going to be fun as it was a ninja school, but it still meant waking up early, homework, grades, blah. With my wisdom, I won't mess up my school years this time. "Mm, Papa, what about my teammates? Yamanaka and Nara?"

"Ah, what a bright one you are. Yes, you'll likely be paired with a Yamanaka and a Nara."

"Can I meet them?" I was a little hesitant. I didn't want to screw up my first encounter with Ino and Shikamaru.

"Not now. Shikaku believes in you three becoming friends naturally, rather than forcing different-minded individuals together. The bonds you form will be artificial, at best."

"...oh, okay." That wasn't too disappointing. I had more time to be prepared.


Chouji and I began a weekly routine of heading to the playground. All social interactions we had previously were with clan children. After all, it was better for us to understand our clan better than the outside. But due to our eminent time to go to school, we had to adapt.

I was really accustomed to my fat, so it was startling to see so many stares. Little fingers poked at my fat, made blunt remarks about my weight. Chouji didn't handle the criticism too well, and stayed behind me or Mama. I gave the children the benefit of the doubt and tried to console my brother.

"We're playing ninja right now," a boy in rags told me. "You sure you can play? You seem too fat to run around."

"I can kick you guys's butts any day," I quipped.

Chouji sat to the side and watched me play Ninja. The version I played was the "enemy ninja" had to find the "good ninja" who were hiding in secret. Once found, the enemy and the good had a chase. If the good was caught, they joined the enemy's team. The good had to escape the enemy by successfully out running them and hiding once more.

I got picked as the enemy ninja. I didn't have any level of chakra sense, so I had rely on myself. I crept through the playground real sneaky-like until I saw the first head of hair behind the slide.

I grinned. "I see you!"

A girl ran from under the slide, giggling and squealing. I dashed after her with way more speed than she was expecting. Within seconds I had her shoulder in hand and she was confused she was out so fast.

The game played out similarly. Whenever my teammates found hidden children, I would sprint after them and catch them. After my first, flawless victory, it was agreed I should never be the enemy ninja—less they want a really hard game!

Hiding was way difficult because of my size. No one wanted to hide near me. My gut and burgundy hair made me a beacon. I spent more time searching for really good hiding spots than actually hiding. Fortunately, I could outrun my pursuers and try again for the perfect place!

I found a perfect spot: an empty, girly playhouse that hadn't been used in a while. There were webs and the house's color was faded. Guess no one wanted to clean it up. It was big enough for seven- or eight-year-olds. I slipped in, closed the door, and "Hey. Get your own spot..."

I turned. From the light casted from the nearly closed windows, I saw the boy who spoke to me. No way, it's totally... totally...

"We can both share it," I compromised, feeling cold sweat on my back and scratched at it. "Can't really hide anywhere, yanno!"

I'd seen him before. His visits were infrequent because of his laziness, but he was there, usually quiet and aloof. The way he was slouched against the wall with a half-hearted scowl was a dead ringer he'd been trying to sleep. Never had the guts for a conversation, though!

"Lame," he sighed. "Gotta share a girly place with a girl? How troublesome..."

"Let's... know each other!" A failsafe if I were to accidentally mutter his name. "Name's Chouyo Akimichi! My brother is Chouji! He doesn't really like playing... if you open the window, he's messing with worms and stuff."

He shrugged, having lost whatever he had a mental debate about. "I'm Shikamaru Nara. I seen him around. Seems nice. Always eating. Got any food on you, too?"

I reached into my pocket and pulled out rice balls with crab inside. "No duh!"

We ate the rice balls together in mutual silence. Other kids were found one by one.

"This where you hide?" I said. "I can never find you, so..."

"It changes. Honestly, ninja is fun and all, but it's the same-old every time. Dad says I need to 'expand my horizons', or whatever. I like coming here to sleep. Nobody wants to be near this place."

"Oh. I like being here 'cause my belly sticks out." I patted it for emphasis.

"Yeah, thought as much. You're fast to be so fat," he commented bluntly, like little children did.

"Thanks! Some people hate all this extra me, though!"

"If you ask me, it's cool. Don't bug people 'bout their lives. It ain't my problem. Don't really care about your size, honestly."

So impulsively, I grasped Shikamaru's shoulder. He grimaced—in pain?—as I said, "You're cool as my brother! I'm happy, Shikamaru!"

"...sure, but don't get all hyper 'bout it. And not so loud—do you wanna get caught?" He squirmed away from my touch. Mental note: try not to be too friendly with people outside the family.

A few weeks later, after my sixth birthday, I convinced Mama for us to ditch the playground and go somewhere more cool. Chouji, Shikamaru, and me ate barbecue under the sun. I hoped for the two of them to start chatting and becoming best of friends, but Chouji retreated into himself and Shikamaru began talking to me.

"Dad says Akimichi're the best cooks ever," he said nonchalantly. "Can you cook?"

"Yeah, but nothing super duper tough! Chouji's way better!" I gave him a look, a means of a conversation, but my brother stared at his barbecue and kept silent.

"You should make something and bring it. We can all eat it."

"What you wanna eat?"

"Dunno. Anything is cool, long as it isn't super greasy or sticky."

"How about desserts?!" My heart started pumping at the idea of sweet, sweet tastes. "Chouji and I can make a mean cookie cake!"

"What's that? Cookies in shape of cake?"

"No, cookie crumbs in the shape of a cake! Trust me, it's way yummier! It's way awesome feeling the bumps of cookies on tongue than the soft batter of cakes!" On a role, I kept explaining the brilliance of cookie cakes in quick, shortened words. I didn't even realize if Shikamaru still listened to me or drowned me out entirely. I was in the zone.

It became a thing to make food, eat together, and laze about. Shikamaru did most of the lazing around. Chouji busied himself with playing in nature. I chatted to our friend as I ran around.

"Shika! Bet I can eat this?" I shouted, consumed by too much energy, and showed him live worms.

He winced. "There's no way a girl's gonna do that."

"Oh yeah? Watch this!" I dropped them into my mouth. Worms were salty and earthy. There were fine hairs on their bodies. As they wiggled in my mouth, my sensitive tongue could feel the muscles in their bodies move.

"Gross," hissed Shikamaru, both disgusted and fascinated. "You did it!"

Chouji looked disappointed! He mumbled to Shikamaru, "She always does dumb things like that sometimes. She gets too hyper."

"She eats worms a lot?" he said with a ghost of a grin.

"No. But she does dumb things like eating ants or bees. She takes advantage of med-ninjutsu..."

I beamed, even with the worms in my mouth. They were talking! And if I had to make a fool of myself to get Chouji speaking, fine by me!


The following March of next year was to be the month we began Academy. Mama took me shopping for school supplies and a new outfit. She found me a high-waisted, ruffle skirt to subdue most of my plumpness in a desert sand color. The skirt stopped an inch above my knees—well-calculated! My knees and below don't hold my fat at all! My olive green shirt had short, puffy sleeves that covered the curve of my shoulder and nothing more. I convinced Mama to let me wear shinobi ankle shoes rather than sandals because I needed to be able to be active. I also wore shorts underneath the skirt, to be on the safe side.

Looking at myself in the mirror, I was way more cute in this life. Mama managed to tame my hair into two, low buns and tied by green ribbons, matching the colors painted on my face.

The slate gray Akimichi emblem was sewn on a dark green sash I wrapped around my skirt like a belt. As we were leaving, I saw a nice pair of tan wristbands that Mama bought for me. It felt great being free of baby doll dresses!

Chouji, too, had a new pair of clothes that wasn't quite the close to what he first wore in the series. He went with green, blues, and browns. His jacket was as baggy as Shino's and I knew it held sweet treats and barbeque chips. "You look nice, Joyo."

I threw an arm around his shoulders and pressed our cheeks together. "Are you excited?! We're going to be shinobi!"

Yet rather than happiness, my brother cringed. My instincts knew something wasn't right. I didn't understand why my smile slipped off my face without warning, however.

"Chouyo," he began the worse sentence I wanted to hear, "I talked to Papa and... we agreed that I don't have to be a ninja right now. I don't want to do that scary and tough stuff right now. Please don't make me do it..."

My arm fell back to my side. Thud thud thud went my heart. "Chouji... you're not going to the Academy with me...?"


I felt exposed.

I'm by no means a small girl. Yet all around me were children who made me feel like a dwarf. There was no familiar warmth at my side. No one to mooch snacks off of. I bit into my strawberry mochi hoping it could comfort me. (It didn't.)

Of course I insisted my brother come! I didn't want him to be alone! But he started crying and Papa got involved... I had to face the reality that my brother wasn't joining me.

I felt terrible.

It was my fault. He relied on me too much. He was too soft. Maybe this was also an issue in the official series... maybe Papa guilt-tripped him into attending, as he was the only child, the only successor.

I really miss my brother.

"Where's Chouji? You seem down," said a lethargic voice.

Shikamaru walked in step beside me. Sure he slouched in disinterest, but his eyes were alert.

"Chouji doesn't want to be a ninja—yet," I mumbled. "It's just me now. Guess you're in the Academy, too?"

"Yeah. Forced to."

We walked in silence as other children passed us up, laughing and messing around.

"I brought my lunchboxes," I said.

"Boxes?"

"Yeah. Four."

"You can eat four boxes? Huh. Can barely handle two."

"Wanna share?"

"Don't know. The other guys might think it's weird to be eating next to a girl. No offense."

"Then how about this? Good food and company? Or whatever your mama's packed?" My lips curved.

"Ugh. Troublesome... making me choose."

I didn't get a response. We got to the Ninja Academy and I whistled at the sight of the Hokage Rock so freaking close. I could almost smell the rocks. Upon entering the Academy, it shook me by how little I actually knew of this place. Firstly, the halls and classrooms were divided into three sections: beginning, intermediate, advanced. The beginning section was obviously for children; there were bright colors, giant pictures with oversimplifications, and more idealistic than the outside world. There were posters—safety information, teamwork, shinobi propaganda—on every wall and class window.

As all students did on the first day of Ninia Academy, we attended the ceremony. Most of it was establishing the basics, the code to which the Academy would adhere to, and introducing new or reoccurring staff members—in which Iruka Umino! gave a sheepish smile as a first-time teacher. I got a little bit too clap-happy, in which Shikamaru told me to cut it out. Then to kill the mood... the Third Hokage spoke to us with a grand speech. I didn't pay attention.

Hiruzen... was the reason the Legendary Three existed. He was also the reason a boy grew up, lonely and friendless. He was the reason that a certain old teammate caused an entire clan genocide that had yet to happen. I had conflicting feelings regarding him. As a result, he made me sick, so I ignored him and his presence.

Iruka, however, I downright adored. Yes, even he first hated a lonely boy, but he was mature enough to move past it! When we entered his classroom, I crushed my new teacher in a big hug. My first impression to him would be hard to forget.

At his side was Mizuki, an amiable exterior hiding coldness underneath. As much as I wanted to stop him from hurting Naruto Uzumaki, he did have an impact in the boy's life I couldn't just reverse like that.

I sat down next to Ino—two social butterflies side-by-side. During the obligatory speech Iruka and Mizuki had thrown together awkwardly, she whispered to me. "Woah! You're really big for a girl! You ever thought about dieting?"

My eyebrow twitched. You're too young to be worrying about that! "Actually, I'm an Akimichi! The bigger we are, the stronger we are!"

Ino breathed in, familiar with the name. "Ah, I get it! You've got a pretty skirt on, too! But tan's a really plain color, you know? If you want to look slimmer, try blacks..."

"I like being plump," I smiled.

"Really? Okay... but can't we go shopping one day? Ruffles are cute, but you don't really look your age. You look four, not six." She blew back a bang of short, blonde hair.

"And that's okay!" I grinned hard, determined to not let her bluntness make me upset.

"Huh?" She shook her head and smiled. "You're so weird! I'm Ino Yamanaka, clan heiress, and work at the Yamanaka Flower Shop. I love cosmos and waterlilies the best. And you are?"

"Chouyo Akimichi. I gotta brother, too. I like sweet things!"

Ino held back a laugh. "Obviously. You smell like food! It's not really a bad thing; it smells like good food, so it's alright. You ever try pumpkin seeds in foods? I heard they're great for the skin..."

She was self-centered, like all kids were, like I was at her age. But, man, she could carry conversations. All I had to do was get her to talk about herself. Then she chatted for a good time.

Ino was really pretty with her flawless skin, natural grace, and lavender scent. Her confidence sealed the deal; within weeks of school starting, boys were giving her confession letters. I saw why Sakura gravitated to Ino, but why didn't Hinata do the same? Was she that shy?

As pretty as she was, she didn't have too many real friends. Most girls mingled with her, but their conversations were so trivial that they would walk away knowing nothing about the other person.

The other girls were too intimidated by Ino's charm.

As expected, I was teased about my weight, though it didn't really disturb me. In my mandatory Kunoichi Class, I encountered Ami, Fuki, and another girl whose name I was certain ended with a -ki. The teasing began because I wasn't "normal" and not being "normal" was a sin in this Japanese-based society. Being different was okay... provided that it wasn't so out there like being three times the weight of the normal, underweight girls.

"You always smell like meat, don'cha?" snipped the violet-haired girl with a smirk. "Girls aren't cute if they weigh more than boys!"

We were in the middle of creating make-up. Ino, finished early, left to help the other girls. Apparently Ami and her posse had finished early too.

"What can I say? I like food and I'm not afraid to admit it," I told them, unperturbed. "Excuse me, I'm busy."

Ami wasn't too pleased with that. I was gunning on indifference making her grow bored and give up. Well, if she was stubborn enough to become a kunoichi despite being a normal civilian, my method wouldn't do much to dissuade her.

"You should be. You're literally obese! You think you can be a ninja like that? As if!"

I droned out her rude words and focused on my task. A pale hand reached for my wrist—"Don't you ignore me!"

In response, I took her wrist and threw her over my shoulder. I barely used my full strength, but I was surprised by how light the girl was. She hit the grass, wind knocked out of her. Fuki and blank-ki gasped and went to tell our teacher Suzume.

Next afternoon was spent in detention.

"Stuck here? I thought you were a good girl. What you in for?" Shikamaru drawled.

"Judo flipped a girl over my shoulder. Accidentally—it was reflex," I stressed. "How about you?"

He smirked, making his thin eyes appear slightly devious. "Sleepin' in class."

"Not very surprising!"

In the front of the room was a boy and a white puppy. He talked to his pup, ignoring us. Should I talk to him?


From the first day, my main priority was a certain boy. Maybe a year or two was left until the end. This boy was a greater asset as an ally than enemy. So I devoted my resources in securing him.

"Hi!" I waved in his face. "Name's Chouyo Akimichi! I wanna challenge you to an arm wrestle!"

Dark eyes stared at me in puzzlement. "What? I don't even know you?"

"True, but you're, like, the strongest clan in the Leaf? I wanna see it for myself! Unless... you scared you gonna get beat by a girl?"

He narrowed his eyes. "Bring it on."

Naturally being an Akimichi already meant above average physical energy. All throughout my youth, my family had coached me in strength-building exercises. He may have had a genius older brother, but I had more talent!

Tiny hands clasped together, the Uchiha boy leaned in his seat, his free hand gripped the table edge. We shared a look and it was game on!

Sasuke was tough indeed. He had luck and raw determination on his mind. His eyes burned, he smirked—which turned into a grimace the longer he pushed against my hand.

I struggled. I struggled... to not use my full strength. Man, I coulda broke his arm if I wanted to! Sasuke was six. He hadn't mastered any Fire Release techniques, hadn't gotten training from his papa too preoccupied with Itachi. Like my antics at Akimichi mealtimes, I made a great show of effort. Both our reddening arms with bulging veins trembled. In the corner of my eyes, I saw curious heads in our direction.

"You're really tough, huh?" I smirked.

Sasuke panted. "You're strong for a girl."

"Watch what you say—'cause I'm gonna kick your butt!" I pushed more power to tip Sasuke's arm away from the 50-50 zone into something more like 60-40 in my favor. "When I win, it's gonna be a 1-0!"

Sasuke tsked. "More like when I win. Don't underestimate"—he pushed back harder—"me!"

With a haughty laugh, I pushed the back of Sasuke's hand on the table and whooped victoriously!

"You're strong! But not as strong as me," I teased, sticking out my tongue.

Sasuke cradled his still red hand. "Rematch! This wasn't my dominant hand, you know!"

"Sure! But we won't do that again!"

"That's what a rematch is—"

"If you can do more pull-ups than me, you win!"

Competitive spirit ignited, Sasuke followed me to the practice gym and we began to do pull-ups.

I was strong... but... I underestimated my upper body strength! I had great cardio and could hold my own. Never had I done this many pull-ups.

Sasuke was on fire while I gasped for breath around 30 in. He eclipsed me. Two pull-ups to my meager half. Finally I gave up and fell on the ground. Sasuke followed.

"I won! I beat you!" He was grinning and it looked real sweet.

"It's a... a tie," gasped I, rubbing my burning arms. "Tie-... tiebreaker!"

From that point on, Sasuke and I competed almost every day, intending to one-up the other person. His Uchiha family in Iruka's class teased Sasuke about being the son of the leader and still losing to a girl. Pride hurt, the boy was relentless to beat me for I was always in the lead in some shape or form.

Even Iruka and Mizuki talked to us several times about our rivalry, but they saw it could not be stopped so easily.

I arrived at school earlier than usual. Without thinking, I sat on the swingset, waiting for Shikamaru to saunter before me. As I waited, I ate fried meat. Somebody tapped my shoulder. "Mm?"

Surprised, I swallowed. My meat wasn't finished being chewed either.

"Ummm... hey... why you always provoking Sasuke like that? I don't get how somebody like you could be that cool..."

He's so awkward. Why is he so scared?

He avoided my eyes and stuck to the trees' shadows, as if hoping the dark splotches could hide him. But I could see his blonde hair and whiskers as plain as day.

And the Killing Intent that drifted from him. Vile and wrong. It reminded me of when I was five months old, wailing in fear.

"I'm sorry," he said weakly. "I-I'll leave..."

His back faced me. So little and frail. Bird-like.

I reached out and took his wrist before I knew it.

Sky blues stared at me.


AN: so basically a random idea that's 8000 words too long. still feel I shoulda made her a boy, but meh.