A/N: This is my first attempt in a REALLY long time at publishing an actual story here. And at a Naruto-themed one as well, so forgive me if it's not the best. I've read a lot of self-inserts and I'm going to try really really hard to make this one as original as I can. Constructive criticism is always welcome. :-)

Let me know if this is worth continuing, please and thank you!

A Match Into Water / 1

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It started with fire.

That first breath as I came out of the womb wasn't exactly the easiest. It wasn't even air, it was black smoke— I can only imagine how pathetic I must have looked to whoever the hell it was trying to save me. Premature, gasping for air that wouldn't come, coughing up what felt like a lung three times my size. I didn't stand a chance. But those people were still there, speaking in hushed voices I was surprised I could hear over the fire roaring all around them.

Everything was burning, shouldn't they be trying to save themselves?

I would have raised an eyebrow at my own thoughts if I wasn't choking to death. Yeah, that doesn't sound like anything that should be crossing the mind of a newborn baby.

My feelings of helplessness were then replaced by panic. I was dying. Suffocating. And if I didn't choke to death I would probably burn to death. The man who was holding me now cradled me close, and put his hands over my too small torso and an odd warmth came over me, slowly easing the stabbing pain in my lungs. By this point I was probably turning blue.

The man who held me was talking fast and desperately to who I could only assume was my mother. I didn't understand either of them, but it sounded like Japanese. And then I wondered how I could put a name to something I didn't understand. How did I even know the word Japanese?

The smoke was so thick it burned my skin, and I didn't dare open my eyes. I was so busy trying to breathe that I hardly felt the wet droplets of something hit me as the man stood up, backing away from the woman who birthed me slowly before he started running— and he was fast. I don't know how long he ran, or how far, but by the time he slowed down the fire was gone and I finally managed to suck in real air, and it was so shocking that I screamed and the man jolted to a halt.

He held me out a ways away from him and stared at me like I had grown a second head. The awful polluted air was gone but it clung to my skin and it burned, so I cried and I cried and by the sounds he started making I realized that the man was crying too. All I had been doing was coughing and gasping for air since I was born and this was the first time he's heard me cry. Was he my father? Did he leave my mother to die, knowing she'd never be able to make it out so soon after giving birth? What had even happened?

It was then that I finally opened my eyes, wondering if the fire was gone. Maybe I hadn't seen it, but the feeling of suffocating was still so fresh in my mind that it almost felt like I still couldn't breathe, even though I knew that the fire was long gone. Seeing for the first time wasn't that great, and my vision was blurry and awful, but the surrounding darkness was a relief compared to what I knew I would've seen before. I calmed down considerably and looked up at the man holding me close.

He had dark brown hair, and eyes as black as night. I suppose it was safe to assume he was my father, considering he would cry at the mere sight of me. He smiled when I caught his eye.

"Nuka." He said first— somewhat emphasized so I figured it was my name, following up with a string of words I couldn't understand if I tried. I just stared at him as he spoke, taking comfort in his voice and the adoring smile that had yet to leave his face.

He was smiling, I could breathe, and I felt happy.

Travelling with this man (still assuming he was dear old dad) for who knows how long made me realize a few things that anyone would consider at least mildly important.

1) I was a baby. Obviously. But that wasn't even the worst part.

2) I felt way too aware of things for the fact that I was a baby to truly hit home. The man, the man's heartbeat, the sounds, the surroundings—my vision still sucked, but I knew I was in a forest, I knew we were running from something, and I knew my mother had probably burned to death.

The tears then came like a waterfall and I felt a grief so intense I started bawling on the spot, startling my father. He wiped my tears away and shushed me in an almost panicked manner. Oh, we were probably being chased. Judging by how fast he's been moving, and what had happened. I quieted my sobs as much as I could, earning a sigh of relief from him. My face was still wet with tears that kept coming and I didn't understand why I was so upset. My mother died, yes—but I had never even gotten to look at her. She never got to hold me.

I was born, father took me away, and she died. That was it.

But why? Why did it happen like that? Why wasn't I born in a hospital, safe and away from the smoke and the fire, with the little bracelet that made a noise whenever I was reunited with my mother? Everything that seemed normal wasn't there and I didn't know how to make sense of my situation. I may have been unnaturally aware, but to an extent I wished I wasn't. I didn't understand anything, but I was determined to stay awake until I did.

3) In regards to my oddly acute sense of awareness; my father was tree jumping.

My brain felt like one big question mark.

He wore some sort of armor as well—which I immediately considered weird, despite the fact that I knew I should really have no concept of what is and isn't weird. There was a symbol on his collar as well that I squinted to see, but my eyes were still too underdeveloped to make out what it was. Which was frustrating.

After what felt like many long, boring hours, father stopped abruptly back on the ground. I heard the voices of two other men and I think I gasped. Baby noises pretty much sounded all the same even to me. I huddled closer into my father and kept my eyes shut tight in fear of the unknown. They still spoke that stupid language I couldn't understand, nor could I see them clearly so I thought it was best to try not attracting their attention.

Which obviously didn't work. But at least I tried. He started following them, finally walking like a normal person so I determined that they were not hostile. I opened my eyes again to get a pathetically blurry look at them. One light haired, one dark haired; both in armor similar to my fathers'. Maybe I went back in time and was born in the middle ages. No, that was stupid.

They led us through an impressive wooden gate hidden by an extremely thick layer of trees and foliage, where beyond it lied what looked like a small community. I didn't really know what else to call it—it was a bit too small to be an entire village, but there were houses and people walking around like a tiny, close knit town that for some reason gave me an odd sense of familiarity. The walls and all the trees surrounding it made me feel safe, and although it seemed to block out a lot of natural light there were spots between the leaves where the sun was beginning to peek through. We had been travelling most of the night, so I imagined it was early morning by now.

The only light I had really seen before now was the fire. I blamed my condition as a newborn for my lack of emotional stability as I started crying again at the memory. My sobs were still fairly quiet, but the light shining through the leaves made it easier to see my father's face as he gazed down at me lovingly.

I stared back up at him and forgot about the fire. He loved me, and for some reason that was all I felt I needed in that moment. Yeah, there were plenty of other things to think about that were undoubtedly more important—but I couldn't bring myself to think about anything else. Once again, I blame being a newborn.

My vision kept focusing and un-focusing as I did nothing but stare at him, listening to him talk in that language I knew I somehow recognized. It was almost startling how I picked up on certain words that seemed more familiar than others. He said my name a lot, and a word I remembered meant sister. Or was it brother? I couldn't be sure. Japanese wasn't really a language I knew terribly well.

There was that word again. Japanese. How did I even know the word, much less what it meant?

It felt like I knew the answer, but it was like a memory that was on the tip of my tongue but no matter what it just wouldn't come. Might as well blame that on being a newborn too.

I yawned, realizing how tired I was from forcing myself to stay awake all night but then remembered the word my father had said. It probably means I have a sibling. I was admittedly curious to find out, but I ended up curling closer to my father unable to keep my eyes from drooping shut. Forgetting my curiosity, I started drifting off into what I was hoping would've been a few days' worth of sleep.

…

Unfortunately, that didn't happen. I was asleep for a good ten minutes tops.

"Papa!" a high pitched voice rang out, shocking me out of my peaceful slumber. The new voice was definitely the loudest thing I've heard in this existence yet, other than the sound of the fire, of course— and in my frustration I let out a single wail as loud as I could muster to voice my disdain. Father jumped, openly alarmed but the newcomer was undeterred. Opening my eyes and taking a gander at the new voice, I saw a little girl who looked like she was trying to climb up my father's pant leg as she continued speaking the language too fast and much too loud for my liking.

He bent down on his knee to lower himself to her level and she finally shut up, staring at me intently. Now that she was quiet and I could see her at a better angle, she was actually pretty adorable. She looked to be maybe three years old, judging by the rate she could talk, with dark brown hair and eyes as equally dark as father's eyes. They looked nearly identical, I decided.

But her voice, her voice! I cringed as she reached for me, and I cursed being unable to understand what she was saying. She was young enough that she probably wasn't saying anything of real value, but it just made it painfully obvious that talking louder didn't make it any easier to understand.

Father finally handed me over to her and I gave him a look that said 'why did you do that' although it probably just looked like my regular face to him, I figured since he just smiled as if saying 'good luck'. I felt ridiculously torn as I looked at her. She looked so much like father, and I loved him, so I wanted to love her too. But was it really that easy? She was so painfully loud. I looked for the microphone that I forced myself to believe she was hiding somewhere on her person. Let's just say it's not her fault.

The three year old sat outside a house by herself, hugging her knees to her chest as she tried to keep from dozing off. The bags under her eyes made it clear she had been up all night.

"Papa…" she mumbled, her eyes half open imagining her father walking towards her like she'd been hoping for all night. He'd come home, and her mother would be with him— her beautiful blonde hair glowing in the morning light with her new baby sister in her arms. They'd all be back, they would all be together and happy again like they were supposed to be.

But then the light started to fade away, and with it her mother and her new sister. She hugged her knees together tighter. Father was still on his way back, but his smile was gone and he was bloodied and bruised all over, his eyes looking empty and hollow. And the closer he got, the more he faded away as well.

She ended up gripping her legs so hard she jumped awake. It was the same dream for the past few hours now. But then a spot of brown hair caught her eye and her head jerked up, attentive and alert as if she hadn't just fallen asleep with her eyes open.

It was him. The light in her eyes was more hopeful by the second before she realized—

Mom was gone.

Her smile abruptly faded. But she looked at her father closer, and he wasn't beaten or bloody or even sad. Mother wasn't there for the light to shine off of her hair, but instead it was his eyes that gleamed and she finally saw the bundle in his arms. She got up so fast she nearly fell over herself.

"Papa!" she called out at the top of her lungs, making sure this time it wasn't a dream, and it wasn't. She heard it—her baby sister had responded with a shriek of her own that made the three year old feel a surge of relief and happiness that pushed her to run to them faster. Colliding with her fathers' legs, she couldn't believe they were finally home.

"You're back! Did you get hurt? Is Nuka-chan okay? Are you okay? Can I hold her please papa?" she spouted off every question that came to mind, trying to fit it all in one breath. Father laughed and put a hand on her head.

"We're fine, everything's fine." He answered, happy but with less enthusiasm than his first born. As he knelt down to her level she finally got to look at the new sister she had been hoping for.

"Nuka-chan." She smiled and took her carefully from him and held her the way he told her to. The grin felt like it was truly glued to her face, and she was momentarily speechless before the words came back in a flood.

"She's so beautiful! She keeps looking at me, does that mean she likes me? Her eyes are just like mom's, and Miyako-obachan's and Tobi-kun's! But I like them on Nuka-chan better!"

He chuckled at his eldest daughter's antics. She never really seemed to need an answer, and she was happy without one as she looked at Nuka with eyes that guaranteed they would be the best of friends as they grew up.

His smile faded a miniscule amount as he eyed the bags under her eyes. She'd obviously been waiting all night for them—all of them. He felt a pang of guilt at his failure to save his own wife, but he knew that if either of them had a chance to survive, it had been their daughter. And it was what she wanted.

Their old compound had been burnt down to ashes. Completely decimated. It was a miracle any of them had made it out; he convinced himself that he should be proud he managed to save as much of his family as he did. He could've left his eldest daughter all alone.

Although it was true she had an aunt and uncle to take care of her should she be orphaned— a more than capable family, the latter being the clan head with two boys of his own— he still would've died ashamed of leaving her. Her mother couldn't have gone into labor at a worse time, really. But that wasn't anyone's fault.

"Nuka-chan, look." He watched his eldest daughter talk to her as if she was really listening. Then looking at his youngest, he suppressed a light shiver when he noticed the acute intensity in her eyes.

Maybe she really was listening. Either way, he thought it mildly strange but decided he was only imagining it. He was dead tired.

"Nuka." She pointed at her baby sister, and then pointed at herself. "Tōka."

She repeated the sequence a few times, switching Tōka with onee-chan until Nuka's hand reached up to grab the finger she'd been using to point, making the ever so proud grin on her sister's face even bigger.

No, he decided. She was as normal as can be, and the awareness he thought he saw in her eyes was gone.

"Tōka-chan, why don't you take her home? I have to go visit your uncle. I won't be long. Do you think you can do that for me? Nuka-chan looks very tired." He observed. Tōka nodded enthusiastically, her eyes widening at the opportunity to impress her father.

"Yeah!" she exclaimed and her father put a finger to his lips, motioning to the baby in her arms. She was asleep.

"I mean, yeah." She corrected in a whisper, eventually turning tail and walking carefully back to their home. He noticed the way she looked back and forth from her sister to the ground, making sure there wasn't anything around to make her trip and drop her. Too careful, just like a new parent.

A smile tugged at his lips at the rather sweet sight before fading as he started walking back into reality. He could sense that the clan head was back, and he made a bee-line to where he knew he'd be. It wasn't as if he dreaded the company of his brother-in law—more so he dreaded what the inevitable topic of conversation would be. He knocked on the door twice and the door opened sooner than he expected, but he saw no one.

"Uh…" he looked down. "Oh. Hello." A boy Tōka's age was staring up at him with big, dark eyes. Only having met him a few times in the past, he wasn't sure the boy would remember him or not. It was probably his wife he'd have been familiar with.

"Hashirama-kun, is your father home?" he asked forcing a smile. The innocent curiosity never left the boys' eyes, and to an extant made him uncomfortable. Did he realize he was here with bad news?

"Yeah!" he eventually replied, turning to go find the man in question. But he didn't have to go very far, as the man walked into the room only a second later. Still clad in red armor and white headband bearing the mark of his clan, he gave a stern look in greeting before shooing his eldest son away.

"Atsura." He greeted, and led him into another room where the two sat down at the short tea table. It was obvious that he sensed the ominous mood he carried, and he chose to ask his questions carefully.

"It's good to see you made it back. The old compound has been burnt to the ground by the Uchiha; I expected you and your family would have gone down with it. I saw your daughter return alone late last night as well." He relayed his end of the situation to Atsura, whose eyes were still downcast as he collected himself to respond. The way he'd worded his statement would typically be construed as he had no faith in him, but Atsura knew it was his way of saying he had been worried.

"Butsuma-sama," he began. His brother stiffened at the honorific—not a norm between the two of them.

"My wife went into labor at the tail end of the attack. I…had to leave her."

Butsuma closed his eyes, not looking terribly surprised but mourning his loss all the same.

To clarify, it was their wives that were born sisters; Butsuma was not a sentimental man by any means, but knowing the death of her sister would undoubtedly damage his own wife, he allowed himself to feel what he thought he should feel for only a moment.

"The child as well?" he questioned. Atsura shook his head.

"No. I managed to save her, but…she was born near the tail end of the attack, and the air was so polluted that I fear for her health. I did what I could, but I was afraid my chakra would've been too much for her." He explained. Butsuma nodded in understanding, arms crossed.

"There are medics waiting for the others to return. If she seems unhealthy, take her to them. You look like you might need rest as well. I will tell Miyako what has happened." Atsura nodded before his eyes fell back down, staring at the empty table with a defeated look. Normally he knew better than to show this kind of vulnerability in his brothers' presence as it was heavily looked down upon, but he couldn't bring himself to really care. Let him be disappointed.

"…yes, Butsuma-sama." He stood up. Butsuma followed suit a moment later, but didn't follow him out. It was his voice that stopped him in the doorway.

"Atsura." He turned his head. "You are still my brother. And remember, there are no wounds the Senju cannot heal."

A ghost of a smile tugged at his lips. He forgot there was a heart somewhere in that man at times.

"Thank you." He replied with a nod. Turning once again, he walked himself through the room he first entered. The edges of his mouth twitched into a small smirk seeing Hashirama out of his peripheral vision, peeking at him around the corner.

Hashirama…you remind me of my Tōka.

Maybe he could come visit his brother more often. He'd bring his daughters along, too. Nuka was too young to play with them, but time goes by fast. Atsura then caught another set of eyes and a flash of white hair poke out just underneath Hashirama's. He chuckled.

Tōka was right. It looks like his eyes are the same after all.

He let himself out, eager to get back to his own family.

I wasn't sure how long I'd slept. Not that it really mattered; being a baby, I should fly through life easily for a few months just performing my bodily functions. Oh, and waking up coughing until I was blue in the face.

I felt really bad for that, looking back on it. My sister's first night taking care of me alone—I'm sound asleep in a makeshift-futon next to her and I suddenly start gasping for breath like a gaping fish.

Tōka's eyes snapped open so quickly I doubted she was really even asleep in the first place. She pulled the blanket off of me, as if looking for something that was choking me but she found nothing. I wasn't aware of much at this point besides my desperate attempts to breathe, but I knew she was panicking.

I had a dream of the fire again, and in the dream I was suffocating. But it wasn't the same fire as the one I felt the night I was born. It was a building on fire, and I was trapped inside. Or was I?

I was huddled in a corner of the room, and this time I actually saw the fire, and I saw the air black with the smoke that burned my lungs and my skin and my eyes. But the fire never touched me. I coughed once, and I died.

That was when I woke up and kept going. The coughing was violent and my lungs were on fire. Tōka went to pick me up—hesitantly, as if she was afraid she would break me— and held me upright. It was a little less painful that way, and looking at her made me realize that there was no fire and it was only a dream. But my body couldn't seem to understand that the way my mind did, and she hurried out of her room with me to hopefully find father so he could make it stop. I was starting to see black spots.

"Papa help!" he walked in the door just before she could leave. Alarmed, he took me away put his hand on my chest and the wave of happiness and life came over me again, like it did the night I was born. It was as if I could feel the smoke leaving my lungs, even though I knew it wasn't actually there. I started breathing normally again, finally calming down. Tōka was clutching my blanket tightly to her chest in front of her and she cried silently. I zoned out, focusing on breathing again as they engaged in another conversation I couldn't understand.

"I'm sorry papa I didn't know what to do. She was just sleeping and she started coughing out of nowhere and it kept getting worse and I was going to go get you and—"

"It's not your fault. Don't be upset. Do you remember what happened at the old compound?" he asked as patient as ever.

"Um, y-yeah. The Uchiha attacked us and everything caught on fire. Mom didn't feel good so you told me to run away." She relayed in a shaky voice. Father nodded and I was reeling. I started coughing again at the shock that was settling in fast, startling both of them before father moved to heal me again.

The word Uchiha rang such a massive bell in my head that I nearly blanked out for the rest of their conversation. I wasn't really listening in the first place anyway considering I couldn't speak their language, but I definitely understood that word.

"Nuka was born right in the middle of all of that. It's hard to breathe in the smoke, and her lungs were too little to handle it. You didn't do anything wrong. Don't feel bad." He consoled, putting a hand on her head. Tōka wiped her tears away frantically.

"Oh." She sniffed. "Is that gonna happen a lot then?"

"It depends. I'm going to take her to the medics and they'll do what they can to help her get better. Okay? You stay here and get some sleep. I know you stayed up all night." He chided. She stood up and it looked like she was going to argue and be loud, but then she stopped herself and rubbed her eyes.

"Okay I guess." She moped. He put a hand on her head and ruffled her bed hair.

"Good girl. We'll be back when you wake up." She ran to her room and he stood up with me. He let out a big sigh.

"You scared me little girl." He mumbled to me quietly. I started crying because of the throbbing in my head. Uchiha rang through my head like water rippling in a pond, but it was painful and I wanted it to stop. I know I knew what it meant, but it hurt too much to think about. Another memory that was just out of my reach.

All I knew was that they were dangerous, they tried to kill my new family, and I should be afraid—but I was safe with father now, so I wasn't.

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