A/N: Edited 10/25/17.

Prologue

"This could have gone better," Sasuke murmured.

I silently agreed with the sentiment while we both took in the wreckage splayed out before our eyes. My face betrayed none of the thoughts coursing through my mind and I was the very semblance of calm. Inside, however, I felt my stomach sink and slow panic start to creep up.

The Sand-Sound invasion of Konoha had gone sideways—so sideways, in fact, that I dully considered washing my hands of the entire 'change the future' business right then and there. The urge to let things progress naturally from that point on was overwhelming.

But no one besides me knew what the alternate outcome could have been. As far as everyone was concerned, this was the complete natural order of things.

Gaara had unleashed Shukaku during the finals of the Chuunin Exam, right in the middle of Konoha. Unlike my past knowledge of canon events, however, it wasn't Naruto who stopped him. In the end it was the combination of Jiraiya and multiple ANBU squads that ended the One-Tail's rampage. I briefly thanked whatever god was listening that Jiraiya had stuck around.

The destruction wasn't nearly on the same level as the Nine-Tail's attack had been, but it was enough—enough to remind the people of Konoha exactly what Jinchuuriki were capable of. What Naruto was capable of.

And Orochimaru...

I absently rubbed my shoulder, feeling the bruised skin. Sasuke subtly gripped my hand in reassurance.

This wasn't how things were supposed to go. I had made sure that Konoha was prepared for this event. I hadn't thought that my warning was capable of backfiring so badly.

Someone stumbled out of a destroyed workshop before us, one leg barely attached and the other half of their body crushed. I watched with a sense of morbid detachment as they tried to make sense of how they were still standing and capable of walking. Watched them piece together the events of what just happened, saw the dread settle over them, and saw the exact moment realization dawned on them.

I could hear a low static noise start to pick up volume.

They looked around wildly, trying to find someone, and noticed me watching them. The static in my ears got louder as their attention zeroed in on me. I flared my chakra before the ghost even took a step and effectively silenced the noise. They disappeared from my vision.

Sasuke was completely oblivious as to what had just happened in front of us.

This was all wrong.

"I'll fix it," I promised quietly, already plotting on how to salvage this mess.

Sasuke said nothing.

- Chapter One -

Part 1: THE UCHIHA ARC

The Starting Years

My new name was Nanami Miho.

It was a pretty name. The simple fact kept me happy until I figured out just where my second life had taken me to; all it took was seeing the insignia inscribed on my parent's clothes to determine my second life had started in a place called Konoha.

Then, it was the existence of chakra which me happy.

The first time I discovered chakra and realized it for what it was, I promptly screamed and dissolved into tears. It was something I had disregarded at first—a gentle thrumming in the air, akin to white noise in the background. Then I actually listened to it, and as though someone turned up a non-functioning channel, all I could hear was loud, deafening static.

My mother was at my side in seconds, cooing and trying her best to calm me.

I tried to block out the ringing in my ears by focusing on her voice. It was nearly impossible, though, since it felt like the source of the noise was literally right in my face.

Then just as it happened, the noise subsided and my bawling slowly reduced to sniffling. My mother looked as anxious as I felt, almost on the verge of tears herself. She was saying things I didn't yet understand.

After a few more minutes of what sounded like nonsense to me, she put me back to sleep and I gladly welcomed the silence.

.

.

.

No real memorable experiences happened until shortly after I turned three.

A few months after my third birthday, the "when am I" question was answered with the Nine-Tail's attack on Konoha. I screamed like a banshee that night, trying to block out the screeching noise caused by the Kyuubi and large amount of chakra being thrown about.

I woke up in an unfamiliar room the next morning, and assumed that I must have passed out at some point during the night. My throat was raw for days afterwards, but the village itself was so quiet I wouldn't have wanted to speak anyway.

In the days that followed, we were told that my father died in the attack alongside countless other Konoha shinobi.

.

.

.

By the time I turned five, a number of changes had happened in my life. My mother retired as a ninja and opened a small bakery as we moved into a new house. The village had finished rebuilding and the Kyuubi's attack was finally starting to scab over.

Life went on.

Then I made the mistake of telling my mother I wanted to enter the Ninja Academy.

"No." Mom's voice was firm and I could imagine the scowl on her face, even as her back was turned to me while she washed dishes.

I sat cross-legged at the kitchen table, picking absently at a placement mat. "But you and dad were shinobi."

"Which is exactly why I don't want you entering the academy."

"But I want to learn," I said, ready to argue. "I can already sense chakra. Sort of. I know how to use it." I placed my hands flat against the mat, channeled some chakra to my palms, then lifted them. My hands tingled and the mat stuck for several solid seconds before I scrambled to grab it from falling to the floor. "See? But I want to learn how to use chakra properly, mom. How to properly throw kunai. I think I would be really good at it. Besides―"

"No, Miho." She turned off the sink and wiped her hands on the nearest towel." You don't understand what you're asking for right now. Go clean up and get ready for bed."

"But it's so early!"

"Miho." Her tone left no room for arguing.

I could have pushed the issue, could have argued further, but after several moments of watching her back, I deflated as the fight left me. It was rare that I ever disagreed with my mother and I didn't often get refused anything. I didn't know how to deal with it.

I also figured this would be a sore point for her, given that she lived that life and my father died in it. Of course she wouldn't want to lose her child to it, too.

But I was five and her refusal made me mad. I didn't want to live in this world as a civilian.

I sullenly brushed my teeth, then splashed water on my face and looked up at my reflection in the mirror. Scowling, I hopped down from the little stool by the sink and reached up to hit the light switch on my way out.

I wanted to become a ninja.

Inexplicably.

The existence of chakra here, to me, was the equivalent of discovering magic. The possibilities of what I could accomplish with it were endless, and the mere chance at those accomplishments was worth the risks involved.

Sleep felt far away no matter how hard I tried, so I mulled over how to convince my mother in letting me start the academy.

.

As it turned out, the phrase ask and you shall receive applied in this world. About two weeks later, my mom took me to visit some friend of hers. It only hit me after a few minutes of walking that we were heading into the Uchiha compound.

I gaped at all of the emblems crossing my vision. It hung outside shops. It hung outside homes. It was stitched somewhere on everyone's clothes.

The second surprise of the day was just whose home we were visiting. I stood behind my mother as she knocked on the door and a tall, dark-haired woman answered it. They exchanged pleasantries before we were ushered inside. Their home was traditional, well decorated, and you could tell just by a single glance that the family was both wealthy and a family of shinobi.

Nothing was out of place, but after some inspection I realized even the most common household objects could be used as weapons if needed. Everything was placed in easy-to-access locations.

I half-listened to their conversation about the latest news while we sat in the kitchen. Eventually it became obvious from my fidgeting that I was bored, so the two of them nudged me towards the house's courtyard, where the woman's son apparently was.

The thunking sound of things hitting wood met my ears when I slid open the door. There was a boy standing in the middle of the yard, practicing with kunai. He turned to face me as I stepped down onto the grass. He looked about my age, though perhaps a bit older—he had at least three inches height on me.

"Hello?" I offered after realizing I was just standing there.

He appeared to be completely unimpressed with my lackluster greeting. He blinked once, then nodded his head slightly. "Hello. Are you Nanami-san's daughter?"

I bowed back in greeting, remembering my manners. "My name is Nanami Miho."

"Uchiha Itachi," he responded in kind, and my heart nearly stopped. "It's nice to meet you."

"Same to you," I said slowly, still processing the surprise of who was standing in front of me.

Silence stretched between us.

Itachi, after determining that I wasn't going to say anything else, turned back to the stump targets and threw the remaining kunai in his hand. I watched as they neatly hit the bullseye drawn in the middle. It was impressive—more than impressive, really, but considering this boy was Itachi, I shouldn't have been surprised. He was a prodigy as a child.

Even so, my eyebrows went up.

Itachi went to retrieve all the weapons embedded in the wood and I hesitated, unsure of how to proceed.

"You're in the Academy?" I asked, taking a step closer.

"I am."

I watched him pull out the kunai, one by one. "Your aim is really good. How often do you practice?"

"Every day, under the watch of my father. This is around the time he trains me," he said and moved past me. He faced the targets, this time standing farther away from them than before.

The kunai edges were slightly dull, I noticed. Enough to cut if you were careless and still capable of being used as real weapons, but these were probably a training set. I stood to the side silently as he practiced again, each time hitting the mark.

"Can I try?"

He glanced doubtfully at me.

"My mom doesn't want me doing ninja things," I used my fingers for air quotes, "So I haven't had much chance to practice, but I know the basics. We have this stuff in the house."

"You practiced without her permission?" Itachi raised an eyebrow, a slightly incredulous note entering his voice. I wasn't sure if it was at my disobedience or the fact that it seemed my mother wasn't aware of what I had done.

"Yes," I huffed. "I really want to be a ninja. Can I please try?"

He seemed to consider it before handing me a kunai, handle first. I took it with glee, excitement filling me at the chance to practice with someone else. He moved to give me some space and I got into a regular stance, calculating the distance of the targets. Not too far, but farther than what I was used to. There would have to be a bit more force behind my throw for the kunai to even reach.

It's fine, I reassured myself. Practice.

I breathed in, gripped the kunai a little tighter, then breathed out in the same moment I let go.

I hadn't managed to hit the bullseye—and I hadn't really expected to—but a small part of me wilted. There was a scowl on my face and I stood feeling slightly disappointed. Then I felt ridiculous for thinking I'd manage on my first try.

Itachi stood by silently, just as I had, and watched.

When I hadn't hit anywhere near the bullseye by my third try, I felt frustration start to trickle in. I turned to Itachi. "Can you show me what I'm doing wrong?"

He blinked at the question as if he didn't expect it.

"I haven't had any real instruction," I told him, shifting my weight to my foot. "So I'm... not really sure what the proper technique is. I'm only imitating what I've seen."

"Ah." Understanding crossed his face. I moved out of the way when I saw him get into a stance, and this time his movements were deliberately slow.

I noticed the difference almost immediately.

"You use your torso to add momentum to the throw," I breathed, eyes wide. "Right? And chakra? Your arm also follows the usual movement... but your wrist. You let go early? Did you breathe out as you—No, wait. You held your breath?"

The corner of his mouth quirked up. "Yes. To some of those questions." And he proceeded to give me instructions as though he was reciting from a book. Which, the more I thought about it, seemed entirely likely. I absorbed the information as much as I could while he went to retrieve the weapons again.

"Move your arm slightly higher as you throw," he said, handing the kunai back to me. "It should follow an arch. And flick your wrist."

I did exactly as he said, and this time couldn't help the large grin that spread across my face when I saw where my hit landed—directly in the center of the bullseye. It was a minor accomplishment, but I still felt like jumping for joy. Success made me giddy.

"Good," Itachi said. Then he offered the remaining two and I met the challenge in his eyes with a slight smile. Both kunai landed neatly in the middle. It wasn't within the bullseye, but it was close enough to matter.

I turned to thank him for the instructions and promptly felt my stomach fall through the floor at the sight of my mother standing on the porch behind us... with both of Itachi's parents.

Itachi calmly bowed in greeting. "Father, Mother."

I, on the other hand, kept my mouth shut and prayed for the floor to swallow me at the very moment. How long had my mom been standing there?

"Your daughter has some inclination towards precision," Itachi's father remarked with approval, eyes scanning the targets before coming to rest on me. "Have you considered a weapon specialization past the academy?"

"No," I said quietly, not correcting his assumption that I was attending the school. "I haven't thought that far ahead."

"It would be wise to follow a plan."

I bowed, accepting his advice, but couldn't squash the anxiety I was suddenly feeling. It was naive to think my mother wouldn't find out what I was doing, and while I expected her to find out about my actions sooner or later, I hadn't expected it to happen here. (Although in hindsight, it was probably a stupid idea to try practicing when she was literally two walls away.)

Mikoto shifted something in her arms, and it was then that I noticed she was holding another child. It had to be Sasuke.

"May I hold him?" Itachi asked and I could hear the hope in his voice.

Mikoto gently unlatched Sasuke's little fists from her hair, then passed him over. It was impossible not to see Itachi practically glowing at the chance to hold his little brother—even if Sasuke had latched onto his nose the second he was in his hands.

I snickered at the sight.

Itachi gave me an unimpressed stare and tried to coax Sasuke to let go. We all watched as it didn't quite work, as Sasuke gleefully started pulling at Itachi's hair with his other hand. Mikoto eventually took pity on him and gave Sasuke one of his toys to latch onto instead.

"I think he has an even stronger grip than you did when you were little, Itachi," she said fondly.

My mother motioned for me to come to her. "We should get going," she said, taking my hand. "I've still got to pick up some supplies from Isshin on the way home and make dinner. It was nice to see you again, Mikoto. Thank you for your hospitality."

"You know you don't have to be all formal with me," Mikoto said wryly. "You've known me for how long now?"

"Way longer than I hoped," came the deadpan reply.

I blinked, a bit astonished. How long had my mom been friends with her? Apparently, I voiced my wonder out loud because Mikoto suddenly laughed. "You should ask her how we met," she whispered conspiratorially to me and winked. "It's quite the story."

"Mikoto, please." There was a quirk in my mom's lip. "She's five."

Now I was really curious, but the story would have to wait.

We said our goodbyes and I briefly waved to Itachi on my way out. He saw and nodded back, but was out of my sight before I could see him wave. I was happy I got the chance to practice with him, but I wasn't looking forward to the inevitable conversation when we got home.

.

.

.

Dinner that night was unbearable.

I kept waiting for my mom to yell at me, to scold me for going behind her back despite her wishes. I went through the countless possibilities of how she would punish me, considered every variation of how this conversation would go, and waited for her to express her disappointment.

Anything.

But she continued to eat calmly, sitting as though oblivious to my inner turmoil. The waiting to get yelled at was probably ten times more awful than actually getting yelled at.

"Aren't you going to yell at me?" I finally blurted out, unable to take the anxiety any further.

She wiped at her mouth with a napkin. "No."

I blanched, not expecting that answer. "What? Why not?"

"Because I think you've given yourself a bigger scolding than I could ever."

"...What?"

She put down her chopsticks and gave me a leveled stare across the table. "I'm not going to yell at you because you already know what you did wrong," she said. "I made my thoughts quite clear on the subject of you becoming a ninja, but you continued regardless. And I thought that perhaps after the first three injuries you would learn your lesson and stop."

Injuries? What injuries...?

I paled as realization dawned on me. I had cut myself on a shuriken the first time I handled them, but I had convinced my mother―convinced myself that she believed me―that they were just scrapes I had gotten from rough playing with other children.

How unbearably, stupidly naive of me.

A wry smile crossed my mother's face at my wide-eyed look. "Of course I've known about your secret practice sessions, Miho. I might be a retired ninja, but I was jounin before."

"But you didn't say anything..."

She nodded. "No, I didn't. I was going to at first, since you kept hurting yourself, but then I watched you continue practicing despite the fact. And Fugaku wasn't wrong," she added quietly. "Your progress both with and without proper instruction is quicker than average. You have a talent for this."

Mom frowned and looked slightly resigned as she continued to talk. "The episode earlier today isn't new. You've garnered attention before and not all of it was well intentioned. At first your father and I didn't worry too much, but after a few years, things became obvious."

I tried not to slide down my seat to hide. All I wanted to do was practice and learn as much as I could as soon as possible. I didn't realize that people were already watching me.

"Whether you intended it or not," she continued as if reading my mind, "You need to know that this attention is only going to snowball if you become a genin. Shinobi are suspicious by nature—always watching, always being watched."

She let the statement hang, then reached across the table to lightly squeeze my hands. "Do you know why I don't want you entering the Academy?"

"Because I don't know what I'm asking for?" I parroted sullenly, remembering our conversation weeks ago.

"No, I think you have at least a slight idea of what you'd be getting into," she said wryly. "The main reason I'm worried is because I think you would fit into that lifestyle far too well, only to find yourself trapped in it later."

I continued to stare at her, not understanding her words.

She sighed. "You're very obedient, Miho. Respectful of authority. How many times have you challenged my decisions?"

Nearly none, the answer came instantly. I may have sometimes disagreed with her, but I could count on both hands the amount of times I ever voiced the opinion or disobeyed her.

"That's a quality sought in good soldiers. Following orders." She squeezed my hands again. "Do you understand why I'm hesitant to let you into that life?"

"I..." I trailed off. Was she worried that I would follow orders without questioning them? Or that I'd be forced to do things I didn't want to?

We were both quiet after that.

She waited patiently for me to process her lecture and I was thankful for it. I took her warnings to heart and tried to draw a mental picture of what my life might look like if I stayed a civilian. It was comfortable. Safe. I theoretically could survive every canon event if I was careful. The chances were certainly higher than as a ninja.

But it just seemed so... uninspiring. Lacking—of what, I wasn't too sure. Excitement? Thrills? Adventure?

Accomplishment, I quickly realized.

A civilian life was missing the sense of accomplishment I so desperately wanted to achieve. My ambition wouldn't let me live a civilian life. I would wilt and grow envious of the people around me.

A cold feeling settled over me like a blanket. I couldn't do it. I couldn't live that life, not when I had the chance to do greater things—to push myself to the limits—regardless if my mom's intentions were just to keep me safe.

I looked at her and steeled myself, ready to voice my decision, but she must have noticed the determination growing on my face and spoke before I even opened my mouth.

"I'll register you for the Academy this following month," she sighed. "You'll start with the new group of students."

The victory felt bittersweet.