Author's Notes: I have a million different versions of this story scattered all over the dark nether regions of the internet. It's been an exercise in frustration. But I think I'm finally happy with this version, and I thought that deserved a brand-spanking-new fanfic account.

Let me know what you think.

Edit: Since people have been asking, the two previous versions of this story are "Blossoming Flowers" and "The Kunoichi Three." Go to the end of those stories and you will see notes telling you to come to this story. I know. It's confusing. I am a confusing person. :)

Also, I could not have written this book one without a number of research credits. Those will be in a long list at the end of the last chapter, in case you're curious and want to read further on any of the following subjects.

The Kunoichi Diaries

Book One: Beginnings

1.

Anko POV

The Hyuuga clan practically bathed in money. It was obvious from the moment you walked in. You half expected them to spend all their time twirling long mustaches and cackling evilly.

But no, I thought as I entered the Hyuuga clan compound through the square entrance on the north side of the compound wall, it was not that kind of place. Far too traditional. Set in a convenient and premium spot right in the middle of downtown, it was kept spotlessly beautiful by the Hyuuga clan branch retainers enslaved into doing the main family's bidding.

A low wall surrounded the compound on all sides. There were graceful arched roofs, rice paper screen doors, and beautiful natural greenery. The place carried all the stillness and silence of a teahouse garden, which actually didn't bother me as much as a surface viewer might think. I could be quiet, when I wanted to be - I just usually didn't want to be.

I walked up the stone pathway and to the vast main door painted with the Hyuuga clan symbol, stopping before the two branch retainer guards. "I have a meeting with Hyuuga Hiashi," I said. Hiashi was the clan head, the ultimate main family leader, the Big Kahuna - though I never called him the last one to his face. Granted, it would be funny, but then he would probably kill me, so.

"Ah, yes, Mitarashi Anko. We've been expecting you." The guard wore the traditional male Hyuuga clan hair arrangement of a long dark mane tied back at the end in a distinctive style. The silvery, pupil-less eyes were ever-present. Also like most Hyuuga clan members, if he cracked a smile his face would split in half. I mentally nicknamed him Cheerless. He somehow managed to sound formal and threatening at the same time. My guard was up.

This whole thing made me uncomfortable. The missive had been a surprise. What could Hyuuga Hiashi want with me? I was loud and obnoxious, he was silent and formal and honestly kind of stuck up. It just didn't make any sense.

I took off my shoes, put them in a basket by the door, and led by a silent Cheerless, I padded in my bare feet through long wooden hallways hemmed in on either side by more rice paper screen doors. I could see paper lanterns periodically placed in upper corners to glow at night. One door I passed by was strategically open to display the lovely garden within, in the center courtyard. So they were trying to impress.

Huh. That was weird. I'd always kind of thought Hyuuga Hiashi had held me in contempt.

We turned a corner, and stepped off the main building, which ended in a three-sided square, padding along a stone pathway lined by another low wall and guarded with statues of fantastical beasts. The hedges beyond in the grass were trimmed in neat, circular shapes. In front of us, I could see a smaller but even more grand building with arched roofs and screens. This must be where the main family lived.

I could see another larger, simpler building beyond it, which meant the main family must be in the center, blocked in on all sides by branch retainer guards. Anyone trying to invade the compound would have to kill the branch family first, no matter which way they went. This would at least give one branch member time to sound the alarm, and the main family time to escape. It was both clever and horribly selfish.

I entered the main family's quarters, still led by Cheerless, and as I was padding along yet another hallway, I joked uneasily, "So… read any good books lately?"

Cheerless glared at me.

"Okay," I said, "apparently not. Not much of a reader. Got it."

Cheerless made a contemptuous little noise and faced forward stoically again. I'd seen it, though. Before he'd looked away he'd given my body a once-over: curvy, dressed in a short skirt and fishnet armor, with leg armor that made my shinobi sandals look like boots, surrounded by a long trench coat, muscular and lithe in a way that spoke of a Jounin.

That was another reason Hiashi didn't like me. I was too sexual.

So Cheerless had a working penis. Great.

I gave an evil grin and leaned an arm on his shoulder. He stopped, stiffening. "You know," I said suggestively, "I'm free after this. If you want, we could do something more… exciting together after I'm done. I'm into the whole chain thing. Wanna top?"

Hyuuga Hiashi probably didn't want me sexually seducing any of his guards. But if he didn't want me to act like myself, he shouldn't have invited me.

Cheerless's face went beet-red and he glared at me, wide-eyed, alarmed, horrified, indignant, and probably kind of aroused. "Mitarashi, unhand me this instant!" he demanded.

"Well," I said, clapping him on the shoulder, "congratulations. You're a true Hyuuga. Stiff to the core."

"I happen to have proper dignity and decorum, unlike you -!" Cheerless yelped in a high pitched sort of way.

"Yeah, yeah. Oh, forget it," I sighed, waving a hand and sauntering ahead of him. "Let's just get to the meeting."

As I passed by one screen doorway, I saw two pairs of silvery, pupil-less Hyuuga eyes peering, big and curious, out from a crack. I just registered in surprise that they belonged to two little dark-haired girls, but then there were squeaks and the door slammed shut.

Hiashi had two young daughters, born of an arranged marriage between himself and the most beautiful of all eligible main family women. Those must be them.

I paused outside a particularly large set of screens, painted beautifully with a forest scene containing a tranquil pond and lovely plumed peacocks. I paused, my eyes widening in surprise, hearing an argument within.

"You are going to give my daughter over to that vicious woman, someone who might well destroy her -!" A woman's voice.

"She is weak. If she is to be my heiress, she must grow stronger." Hiashi's voice, clinical and distant. So he wanted me to teach his eldest daughter? But her mother disagreed?

"She is just a child! And the only reason she won't hurt her sister is because she is kind, and gentle -!"

"Like you."

"Those are not bad traits!"

"Perhaps not in a wife!" Hiashi's voice had finally lashed out in anger, in a kind of growl, and it was truly formidable. "But in a clan head, yes!"

Hiashi's wife - Hanako, I thought was her name - did not seem fazed. "You are so busy trying to make her like you that you do not see her true worth," she said coldly. Then there was a sound of movement and the door was slammed open. Hanako gasped and looked up in surprise, seeing me and an uncomfortable Cheerless standing there. She had a round, graceful face and long dark hair. She wore silver robes, a trademark of Hyuuga main heads that Hiashi also shared.

I waved uneasily. She ignored me.

"Daichi." She turn to Cheerless, who apparently had a name. Her voice was very kind. "You're on duty, right? Stop by the kitchen and get some of those dumplings you like; say it's my orders. A guard must have nourishment in order to stand out in the hot sun for hours like that."

"Thank you, Hanako-sama," said Daichi awkwardly. "I do not mind the work."

"Of course you don't." She smiled fondly. Frankly, it was amazing she remembered a branch guard's name at all. Then she turned to me and her eyes grew cold. "Mitarashi-san," she said with a slight nod.

I raised an eyebrow, not particularly bothered. Angry Mother Alert, Angry Mother Alert. "Hyuuga-san," I returned with a similar slight nod. I was under no obligation to call anyone 'sama.' They weren't my family.

Hanako brushed stiffly past me and padded on down the hall.

"Mitarashi. Come in." Hiashi's cold, clinical tone, more one of command than one of request. I found that irritating. What must it be like, being married to him? Or being his child? My sympathies went out to Hanako and her daughters.

"See ya later, Cheerless," I said, and I smirked when I felt him give one last glare to my back as I entered through the vast, painted screen doors and into Hiashi's office, which was covered in tatami mats and contained a vast, gold gilded, low-set desk that Hiashi knelt behind. I heard the door slide shut behind me, and then we were alone in the room together.

Hiashi's face was angular, lined, and strict, everything harsh and unfeeling, no soft curves anywhere. His hair was pristine and traditionally Hyuuga, his pupil-less grey eyes were cold, and a little furrow between his eyebrows gave him an air of perpetual annoyance. "Sit down," he said without preamble.

"You know what, Hiashi-san?" I cooed with a sickly sweet smile, getting right up in his face. "I think I prefer to stand." Hiashi held his head back slightly, glaring at me. His eyes didn't move in the direction of the voluptuous breasts that were fairly close to his face, but I could tell they wanted to.

So I was aware of my sex appeal, and I used it to my advantage. Sue me. It was called being a good kunoichi.

"Suit yourself," he finally said at last, his tone arctic cold. "But nevertheless, you will hear me out."

"Of course, Hiashi-san," I cooed, standing back and still smiling a delightful sneer. I could tell it irritated him, which was why I kept doing it.

I saw a little tic going in his jaw, but he got right to business.

"I have proposed something to Hokage-sama, and he has agreed," said Hiashi. "Would you like to see the letter?" This time, his tone was mocking. He smirked and handed over a missive.

It was short and to-the-point, in Hokage-sama's own handwriting. I took it curiously, and read the first few lines.

I, Sarutobi Hiruzen, Third Hokage, do hereby decree that Hyuuga Hinata may be trained by Mitarashi Anko, or secondarily by another Jounin, in place of her upcoming Konoha Ninja Academy training. I further decree that she shall have two female teammates during this training, namely the other two ninja clan heiresses in her own year: Yamanaka Ino and Haruno Sakura.

"So you want me to accept," I realized, staring at the missive, "but I don't have to."

"That is correct."

I looked up, my eyes narrowing. "Hiashi," I said, "why are you requesting this?"

His nostrils flared and his killing intent rose. "You dare question me?"

"I have to know all the facts before I agree," I returned, glaring. "Surely you can appreciate that." I sent my own killing intent back at him - a dangerous move, but I refused to be intimidated.

To my surprise, he smirked, as if approving, and the killing intent lessened. I felt as though I had just passed some bizarre test.

"My eldest daughter is my clan heiress, and yet she is weak," said Hiashi. "Hinata is extremely weak. She loses in fights not only against branch family members, but also against her own sister, who is several years younger than she is. She is currently unfit even to be considered as a potential clan head."

He already had them training and fighting one another? It was excessive and asshole-ish, but I supposed I shouldn't be surprised.

"Her real problem," Hiashi continued clinically, hands steepled, "is, I believe, a psychological one. She is too gentle and kind, not wanting to hurt anyone, and so she fails. When she fails, she internalizes the failure, and tells herself she is bad at the ninja arts."

"Do you tell her she's a failure?" I asked. Hiashi glared at me. "Hey, it was just a question," I said, raising my hands. I thought maybe that could be a factor, ya know? "So you want me to fix her, so to speak. Make her a proper clan heiress. Why me?"

Here, Hiashi smirked. "Because despite how much I dislike you, Mitarashi Anko, you are the most vicious kunoichi Konoha has to offer. You hurt people just to watch them bleed."

I sighed and examined my fingernails. "Ah, so you are capable of compliments, Hiashi-san," I cooed, sickly sweet once again. Then I sobered, looking up at him. "So either she'll break or she'll make it?"

"Precisely."

And the girl was was just turning eight - wow.

"May I meet her?"

"Yes, of course," said Hiashi, and he turned -

"Don't bother," I said coldly. "She's hiding right outside the door." I heard a soft gasp.

"She was eavesdropping?" said Hiashi in growing anger.

"Relax, Hiashi-san," I said. "I don't mind." So the girl had heard everything - had heard her father give her away to someone who might well break her. Had heard that she was currently unfit to be clan heiress.

Slowly, the door opened and a timid, frightened girl appeared, kneeling. I recognized her as one of the pairs of big eyes from behind the door down the hall a few minutes ago. Close up, she had short Prussian blue hair, Hyuuga eyes with no pupils the color of rose quartz, fawn skin, and a round, graceful face like her mother's. She was dressed in a beautiful, dignified, cool colored sweater and pants set - this was a girl who wanted for nothing, and her soft hands said she was unused to hard work.

She shuffled forward on her knees and bowed low to me, both dignified and clearly frightened. "M-Mitarashi-san," she said softly, "p-please make me a worthwhile Hyuuga and kunoichi." She was shaking slightly. Hiashi's nose was wrinkled, his eyes cold and disapproving, as he stared at his daughter.

I smiled, genuinely this time, trying to be friendly, and kneeled down to her level. "We're both different," I said brightly, pointing to her hair. She looked up in surprise. "From a distance, we both look like we have black hair and white skin, but we don't. We're unique." My own thick hair, which was tied up in a clip behind my head, was the color of amethyst. My skin was khaki - like her, my skin was yellow instead of white.

Hinata smiled back at me, brightening.

"Mitarashi. Do not coddle her. Keep a strict eye on her," said Hiashi in a hard voice. Hinata's smile faded and she looked over at him hesitantly. I nodded and stood swiftly, cold.

"I accept. I will make her a proper ninja," I said. "But first, I must also meet with the two other families whose daughters will be under my care. I will let you know through a missive when I am ready for Hinata."

I'd have asked for his email, but I think that the suggestion might have made even Hyuuga Hiashi laugh till tears came to his eyes. Did he even have an email? Seemed too stiff and traditional. Maybe not.

"Very well, Mitarashi-san. I thank you on behalf of the Hyuuga clan," said Hiashi, nodding with dignity.

"I thank you on behalf of the Hyuuga clan, Mitarashi-sensei," said Hinata quickly, once more bowing low to the floor.

I looked down at her expressionlessly, and felt an odd stirring of pity that I had to forcefully quash. "Anko," I said. "You can call me Anko-sensei." And I walked out of the office.

I probably should have bowed my way out. But fuck it, they needed me and I'd never liked Hiashi anyway.

Hinata POV

"To eavesdrop on an important conversation! You are a shame to the Hyuuga clan!" my father boomed, and I bowed low before his desk, tears in my eyes.

"I am sorry, Father. I - I just wanted to -"

"No excuses!"

"Yes, Father."

"Leave."

I paused, a cold, heavy weight growing inside of me. I felt like I wanted to cry, but I knew this wasn't proper for a Hyuuga clan heiress. I wanted so badly to please my father, but every time I seemed to come up short.

Perhaps Anko-sensei could change that. She had even managed to unsettle Daichi with her flirting; she was good at throwing around killing intent; she was everything I had always read a young kunoichi ought to be. Whatever she threw at me, I would try my hardest, I promised myself. No matter how vicious she was.

"Hinata. Leave. I do not enjoy repeating myself."

"... Yes, Father," I said quietly.

As I was padding back down the hall, still deep in troubled thought, I saw Neji appear before me. I paused, gasping, my eyes widening, feeling fear - despite myself. My cousin Neji was a branch family member, but a talented one. Out of some sense of bitterness, he was always vicious to me out on the sparring mats. He reminded me of my father - sneering and cold.

Neji was more philosophical, though. He thought himself very abstract, always speaking of fate and spending hours meditating each day in the exact same position.

"N-Neji-nii-san."

"When you bow your head to a branch family member, you do your status a discredit," said Neji quietly, arms folded. My eyes widened in surprised. Had my head been bowed? In fear, perhaps. I forced myself to straighten.

"Neji-nii-san, I must pass," I said, and my voice barely shook at all. "This is main family territory. You do not belong here."

Neji's face twisted. "I heard you have a new Sensei," he said, "that she has been assigned to make you a proper clan heiress." I wondered privately where he had heard this. "It will be of no use," he said. "You were fated to be weak and yet be a main family member, Hinata-sama. Just as I was fated to be strong and yet be a branch family member."

I looked down, choking back my tears. "Branch family practices cause you much undeserved suffering, Neji-nii-san," I managed to force out.

Neji's eyes widened. Then he scoffed and brushed past me, storming on down the hall.

I reentered my room, wiping my eyes in shame - even at not crying, I could not succeed - only to find my little sister Hanabi still in my room. She looked more like Father: long black hair, an angular face. "You should be happy," she said curiously. "You will be getting strong. You have a new Sensei."

"Yes, Hanabi," I sniffled, sitting down beside her. "But - but what if I fail?"

"You will not fail." We turned around to find our mother standing in the doorway. "I'm sorry," she sighed, seeing us. "At first, he wanted to have you two spar so Hanabi could win and shecould be made clan heiress. When I said I refused to pit our daughters against each other and make them resent one another, he said he would have to come up with something else. I had no idea he meant this." She kneeled down sympathetically across from us. "He is determined to have his perfect heiress," she said. "One way or another."

I sniffed again. "Father wanted sons, didn't he?" I said. "Sons like Neji."

Our mother smiled; her eyes were pained. "I think he would have understood a son like Neji better," was all she said. Then she gathered us up into her arms, in a warm hug. "Everything will be alright," she said softly, and I immediately relaxed, feeling soothed. "Just try your hardest. And if it doesn't work out… I will personally intervene for you."

Steel had entered her tone. For a moment, I questioned my assumption that Father was the strong one, and Mother was the kind one.

Anko POV

My next visit was to Haruno Sakura's house. While the long-well-established Hyuuga clan had their all seeing eyes and their special, deceptively soft and graceful Gentle Fist hand to hand style, the Haruno clan were illusions specialists. Sakura's grandmother, known for her exotic pink hair, had supposedly been the greatest illusions specialist of them all. Her son had also taken up illusions, and he had met his current wife, a fellow genjutsu master, during the Chuunin Exams. He had been impressed by her abilities, and eventually they had fallen in love, amassing a great amount of money through their own and the father's mother's talents, starting a clan. Sakura was a third-generation ninja and a second-generation clan heiress to a one-family clan.

They were also downtown, but not in a clan compound. Instead, I went down mansion row, which was a series of tall, fancy, brilliantly colored houses with surrounding lawns. This was where the newer clans lived. There, I found the Haruno home. On the outside, it was a soft yellow with reddish-brown trim, a Victorian style place with two stories, an upper balcony, and a series of front steps leading up to a vast, stained-glass door. There was an overhang jutting off to the right side, and a stony path led around through the overhang and to a series of fruit and flower trees in the back garden, in the distance. The Haruno clan symbol hung from the top of the overhang, painted on a little cloth.

I climbed the front steps and knocked briskly. It was slightly chilly that morning, and I jumped up and down to keep warm. I'd called and made plans ahead of time.

The door opened at once - I stopped jumping abruptly - and standing there were Sakura's parents, Haruno Mebuki and Haruno Kizashi. Mebuki was a stern-looking, serious woman with lines around her mouth and eyes, a bob of brunette hair, pale skin, and green eyes, wearing a kunoichi dress. Kizashi had wild purple hair of a lighter shade than mine, sideburns, and a mustache. He had brown skin, and he wore a kimono shirt and pants.

"Anko!" said Kizashi jovially, his arm opened in welcome. "Come right in! Have some tea!" He was obviously the more easygoing, extroverted, and charismatic of the two.

"Idiot!" Mebuki snapped, fiery and tough. "She's here on official business!"

"I'm just being nice!"

"You're always embarrassing me!"

"You're the one who takes things too seriously all the time!"

I laughed uneasily. "Haruno-san," I said, raising my hands, "I am here on official business, but I'd love some tea."

"I'm worried about my daughter," said Mebuki intently, leaning toward me across the table, as Kizashi poured the tea. "We gave her the name Sakura when she was born with a full head of pink hair. We thought that was a guarantee she'd be something great, like her grandmother."

"But?"

"But she's shy and underconfident and obsessed with being girlish. She has no skills in either the kunoichi arts or the ninja arts, and furthermore she shows no interest in them! As it is, we can't teach her about genjutsu at all!" Mebuki threw up her hands.

I must have seemed surprised because Kizashi added uneasily, "Without wanting to cause an argument, I do think Mebuki is too hard on our daughter. But the essence of what she says is correct. Sakura never shows how she really feels, and she shows no confidence at all. She has no friends. I worry, too."

I sat back, looking around in thought. The inside of the mansion was as beautiful as the outside. While the Hyuuga had clan retainers to do their cleaning for them, I knew the Haruno and the Yamanaka both simply hired a maid, and the Harunos' maid did a good job. The house looked almost staged. Was that just for my benefit? There were fancy rugs, polished wood floors, vases full of flowers on little end tables. The furniture was all shining wood, as was the staircase, and a long row of huge curving trapezium-shaped windows on the far wall looked out over the back garden full of trees.

We were sitting at the dining table by the windows. I could sense Sakura sitting obediently up in her room.

I took my steaming cup of tea and sipped it for strength. "So what are you hoping for with Sakura's training? That she grow in confidence and let out what she feels a little more?"

"And possibly not be so obsessed with being the perfect little girl," said Mebuki. "I'd like her a little tougher and okay with imperfection. I'm just not sure how to tell her that."

So Hiashi wanted me to break the cycle of gentleness and depression. Mebuki wanted me to break the cycle of underconfidence and perfectionism.

"I take it you've also already talked with Hokage-sama?" I asked rhetorically.

"He talked with all three families before making the decree," said Kizashi, nodding his head in a content sort of way.

"Alright… can I see her?"

Haruno Sakura was brought before me. She had a short head of carnation pink hair, just the same shade as her infamous genjutsu mistress grandmother's, and spring green eyes. Her face was heart-shaped, long, scruffy bangs obviously trying to hide the largest part of that face, and her skin was sand-colored with pink rose undertones. She wore a nice shirt and cargo pants.

She stood in front of me, her parents' hands on her shoulder, her own hands held together and her shoulders hunched. She looked up at me hesitantly.

"Sakura," I said, nodding, "how are you?"

"F-fine, Anko-sensei," said Sakura shyly. She had the perfect little girlish face and the perfect little girlish voice.

"Sakura," I said thoughtfully, "have you ever wanted to punch someone? Like, really hard?"

Her parents stared at me in bewilderment. Sakura's eyes widened and she shook her head quickly, pink hair bouncing. "N-no, Anko-sensei! N-never!"

But I'd seen it. A certain gleam in her eye.

"Now, me," I said casually, sipping my tea, "I want to punch people in the face all the time. You know, cold cock 'em. Punch their lights out. I hold myself back most of the time, but you know, there's no shame in that. You've just gotta wanna punch someone for the right reasons. You get me?"

Sakura looked up at me hesitantly, suddenly suspicious. I got a glimpse of another person there, hidden underneath the surface - a darker, far different one.

"Yes, Anko-sensei," she said quietly. "I get you."

I nodded. "Anyone in particular you're talking about?" I asked, faux casual.

She scowled. "... A couple of people," she muttered, looking away.

Called it. Perfectionism and underconfidence, no known friends. A classic case of bullying. She repressed her feelings and made herself a smaller target.

I left shortly afterward. I saw what I came to see.

Sakura POV

How had she known?

My mother had sent me out into the street to go play. I was walking along, troubled and thoughtful. How had she known, when those other girls picked on me, how much I wanted to scream instead of hunch myself over, how much I wanted to punch instead of cry?

I'd been so good, I thought. I always tried so hard - to be pretty, to be the perfect little girl with the perfect grades who always did what her parents wanted her to do. I tried to be cool, to look down on the people who weren't like me.

It never worked. I was still picked on mercilessly by Ami and her posse. But I tried, nonetheless.

And this Anko lady, she had seen right through me. She saw the thing in myself that I most feared, the thing I most tried to hide. And that frightened me.

"Well, what do you know, if it isn't Forehead Girl!" The jeer came from behind me. I froze. Turned slowly around in dread.

There was always dread, somewhere in the back of my mind, when I was here in the streets. There they were: Ami and her posse.

Ami was a smug, cruel little girl with purple hair like Anko-sensei's. Unlike Anko-sensei's, however, it was cut short in an uneven bob, an artistic thing that was as cool as Ami herself. She always had a group of girls following her around everywhere, tittering as she spewed her narrow-minded opinions to the world.

"So what are you going to do, Forehead Girl? You're too weak to enroll in ninja school! You could try being a prostitute. Or a maid. Or a waitress. No, wait, scratch two of those, you're far too ugly." Jeering laughter.

Tears filled my eyes. For the thousandth time, I wondered: Why me? What was wrong with me? Why did I attract people like this?

"I'm going to be trained by a private Jounin, Ami," I forced out, looking down, lip trembling, voice choked up. I hated myself. "Not like you." My fists were clenched at my sides.

Ami's face darkened. "You filthy little liar," she said. "You and your hideous forehead can just go straight to hell!"

Then, suddenly, they reared out with punches and kicks. "Forehead Girl! Forehead Girl!" they called.

I curled in on myself, crying and crying. Screw you! All of you! I'm going to be great, damnit! Inner Sakura screamed in my mind, rearing for a punch back.

Inner Sakura had been created by Outer Sakura, because Outer Sakura just cried and cried.

In that moment, I promised herself - I would do whatever fearful Anko-sensei asked of me. Whatever it took to be stronger and more confident than Ami.

Anko POV

My final visit was to Yamanaka Ino's house. The Yamanaka specialized in mind reading, and mind and body control. They were also sometimes called the spider clan, because of their unique ability to control those around them and make them do their bidding, like flies on webbed strings, because of their ability to read others' minds and weave them into a web of deception.

The Yamanaka space downtown was again different. It was fronted by Yamanaka Flowers, Ino's mother's flower shop. The shop sign advertising "Yamanaka Flowers" carried the Yamanaka clan symbol, though Ume herself was no longer a kunoichi. She was a stay at home mother instead. Her husband was Yamanaka clan head, and quite a famous ninja, but he had spurned clan tradition to marry an outsider, a Chuunin from a civilian family, who had then retired and opened a flower shop.

One went behind the shop, and found the vast cottage the Yamanaka called home. It was a long, rambling stone building with pointed roofs and a front porch with white pillars. Smoke curled out of the chimney.

I went up to the door and knocked once more.

This time, a servant answered. "Please come in," she said, peeking hesitantly around the doorframe, standing aside and ushering me within the contents. I stepped out of my shoes and entered.

There were Yamanaka Inoichi and Yamanaka Ume. Ume was a stiff woman with a tight bun of brown hair and strict lines in her face; Inoichi had a gruff, square face with a samurai's ponytail of blond hair. Both were dressed formally: Ume in a long dress with a brooch and a high lace collar that went practically up to her chin, Inoichi in a high-ranking ninja's vest. They were sitting together seriously, having tea, and did not immediately move to look at me when I came in. They gave off an air of cool, studied indifference.

The cottage around them was quaint. A vast stone fireplace was on the east side, armchairs set around it. A dining table set with a bowl of fresh fruit stood nearby. The whole place had the sort of cluttered but old-fashioned air of an antiques shop, and out in the back through the kitchen window was the vast field of flowers where Yamanaka Flowers got most of their materials.

"Mitarashi Anko." I turned to Inoichi, who had spoken. He waved to a third armchair. "Please sit."

I settled hesitantly down in the armchair, which immediately sank low and seemed to be trying to eat me alive. They had given me the sinking chair. "Yamanaka-san," I said, struggling desperately to sit upright as the Yamanaka watched in veiled amusement. I had the feeling they were reading my mind and I did not appreciate it. "I hear you want me to teach your daughter Ino."

"That is correct," said Ume.

"What would you like as far as improvement?"

Ume raised an eyebrow. "Improvement?"

I flushed. "All the other parents, they had goals for what they wanted their daughter to learn from me, and -"

"Ah, yes," said Ume. "Ino is perfect. We have nothing to improve in her. We volunteered her because we know she can handle anything you throw at her."

"We also want her to be taught by the best," added Inoichi quickly. "Anko. I knew you in Black Ops. You're the best."

"I thank you, Inoichi," I said cautiously. "But where is -?"

Suddenly, a little girl rolled out from a piled rug in the corner. She'd suppressed her chakra so well I hadn't noticed her. "HA!" She came at me with a blunted kunai knife, I unleashed my own, and the metals clashed against each other.

I finally saw Yamanaka Ino up close. She smirked and straightened, removing the kunai and bowing. "Anko-sensei," she said smugly.

Well, I thought, no confidence issues in this one. But perhaps a set of parents who pushed their daughter far too hard.

Ino had a short head of platinum blonde hair, powder blue eyes (like Hinata's, they had no pupils; Ino used her eyes to lock into a person's mind, just as Hinata used hers to see things others could not), and skin so pale it was the color of gypsum. Her face was the desirable oval. She wore fashionable clothes, a choker necklace, a hair barrette, and even jewelry.

"Yamanaka Ino," I said in surprise, "you… are not like the others."

Ino smiled slyly. "In a good way?" Her eyes were hard - determined.

"... Yes," I decided cautiously. Then I smirked and upped the killing intent a little. "Think you can handle me?"

And to my surprise, Ino consciously upped hers. "Oh," she said, lifting her chin, "I think I can."

Her parents smiled.

But in the back of my mind, I wondered: how did an eight year old already know how to throw around killing intent?

Ino POV

The minute Anko had left, my Dad said, "Very good. Now - back to your training." He nodded and pointed to the dark back training room.

"Yes, Dad." I walked past my mother in the kitchen.

"Do well," she said reservedly. My mother had given up on being a ninja and I knew she didn't want the same for me. My father was a Black Op; he knew the hard side of ninja life.

I trained four hours a day. I had to. Much was expected of me, and I was determined not to lose. The four hours would be continued throughout Anko-sensei's training, it had been decided.

"I was different." Well, of course I was different! I trained harder, knew more, didn't I? I was determined to be the perfect kunoichi: fashionable, seductive, deadly, talented, and cruel.

I smirked as I walked into the back room. There was much work to be done.

Now it was all a matter of waiting for Anko-sensei to call on me. I knew I had left a good first impression. And I would do whatever it took to succeed and be a boon to my parents and my clan, live up to their expectations of me.