Notes: Well, well, long time no see, huh? I'm not gonna BS you; this is a piece that's been about seventy-five percent finished for some time now. I'm posting in hopes I can gain some inspiration and motivation to complete it, as I do quite like it even if it no longer reflects my skills. This is short, I'd say three chapters max, most likely a two-shot. I've also been out of the loop for a fair amount of time and know next to nothing about the new Naruto/Boruto/anime/novel content. Safe to say this is prob AU, anyway.
Warnings: The M rating is not a joke, please heed it. Graphic violence, torture, an incredibly yandere, insane MC, language, triggering subjects such as suicide, etc. This is a brutal one compared to the stuff I write (I think? I'm not sure anymore). You are about to read an SI who goes legitimately insane. She's not the 'fun' kind of insane like Hidan, where you can enjoy his charisma and humour. This is an SI I expect people to hate. If you're rooting for her, I'm betting it'll be in a twisted Walter White way.
Thank you to jiemae and Enbi who I recall for certain helped me with this.
(red) threads and chains (leading us nowhere)
"I… have always admired you. Please, take care of my heart." There was never a time she didn't mean it literally.
The roar of falling water booms around her, thunderous and godly. Her gaze never leaves the massive glimmering waterfall before her. The cool mist caresses her skin the way a lover might, and stray droplets splatter her face, rolling down her cheeks in slow motion—a parody of tears that makes her smile.
Her smile, curving like a sickle, is empty and cold like her eyes. Like her eyes, everything is empty—she can no longer see the worth of the world or herself any longer.
She steps over the short guardrail as people laugh and live and love around her. They continue posing for pictures, entirely unaware of the woman who's just disappeared into the mist and unrepentant fall of water like a grain of sand in an hourglass.
There's pressure shattering every bone in her body and ice flooding her lungs and veins and explosive pain igniting every single one of her nerves in a furious maelstrom. It only lasts for a second, but it's unlike anything she's ever felt before.
Everything ends before she can ever wonder if it was worth it.
零
For years after, she simply is.
She exists, but not really, because it feels like she's watching a movie again, except of course she can't do that because she died and death offers no such luxuries.
(She suffers from depersonalization disorder without ever knowing it has a name—reincarnation is not a kind process.)
There is a tired, fragile red-haired woman forever with uncertain love and deeply ingrained fear in her eyes, and she—but she's the not-she, isn't she?—is the slender, silent red-haired child who never lets go of the woman's hand.
When she's awake, she always sees beautiful crystalline water forever tranquil and calm, and a flourishing tree so massive in scope it must mean to meet the sun. Icarus meant to meet the sun, too, and in a flurry of ash and flames, met the roiling sea instead.
For the first time, her thoughts reach the not-she's face, and the frightening, childish face smiles at the old myth, and it's as empty and cold just as it was before.
It's also the first time the woman truly looks away from her in disgust and real horror. The uncanny valley effect.
"Reiko," she says, sounding more like a plea than an admonishment, and wrenches her forward by the wrist.
The pain, which she hasn't felt since that time, anchors her to reality, and she is no longer the not-she spectre that haunts the pair.
Reiko, she quickly finds, doesn't suit her.
零
When Reiko looks into the mirror, she isn't really looking into the mirror because she isn't Reiko.
(But the mirror isn't lying.)
Reiko has skin that tells tales of life among the white-crested waves, with damning crimson hair the colour of fresh blood and honey eyes that would glitter like gold coins if not for the ghost behind them dulling them into faded, lifeless orbs that float in her skull.
She runs her slim fingers down the glass, breath fogging it in rhythmic puffs as she leans her forehead against the cool glass, closing her eyes. Everything always feels real, even if it forever feels as though she's waking out of a hazy dream.
When she opens them again, Reiko is still there, staring back at her with those accusatory, haunting eyes.
The Village Hidden in the Waterfalls.
An itch catches in her throat and builds and builds until it spills from her lips, raspy, heartless laughter. She laughs and laughs at her reflection and at the unbelievable irony. She keeps laughing though her throat begins to hurt, unable to stop herself. Tears roll down her cheeks and she laughs ever louder, utterly insane and maniacal, when the woman who calls herself her mother appears in the mirror, apprehension and fear tainting her pretty, gaunt face.
"R-reiko-chan?" she stammers, never moving an inch closer. Her not-daughter goes beyond unnerving and into terrifying.
Not-Reiko—except she is Reiko—ignores her and laughs well into the night, completely alienating Not-Mother and disturbing the neighbours.
零
Of course, of course it had to be red hair and waterfalls. She's not worthless this time around, her goddamned hair practically guarantees that, and she's seen the bite-shaped scars and tattoos simmering with chakra Not-Mother tries to hide beneath cosmetics and layers of clothing.
Not-Mother begs her never to speak of it to the other villagers.
She doesn't even want to think the name, much less utter it aloud, but it's a death sentence in its own right. She won't have to kill herself now, because someone is bound to do it for her.
But now, now, she thinks while madly scribbling barely comprehensible fūinjutsu with shaking hands, now she'll live a little longer this time.
She owes it to Reiko to do that much, at least.
零
She knows the truth and future of this world and it weighs on her heavily, like insects gnawing at the inside of her skull, pattering around on her brain until it begs to turn to mush and flow out of her ears.
However, she is fated to be Cassandra, dismissed as nothing more than a madwoman and a liar. Who on this godforsaken planet will ever believe her?
Still, still she must try, if only to say she did, that she desperately tried to save them, she really did.
"Mother," she begins one day, when she can take it no longer, when her scalp aches from how hard she's tugged on the long hair there, "there's s-something… something you need to know." Her voice is tremulous and high-pitched.
"Yes, my darling?" Namika replies lightly, then slowly turns, hesitant expression belying her tone.
Reiko doesn't know what to say or how to begin the whole insane tale. "I—I know things," she says, feeling as if her heart might burst from her chest, shaking like a leaf in a hurricane. "Things I'm not supposed to know."
Not-Mother's eyes narrow, and Reiko can't tell if it's from scorn or fear of what trouble her horribly odd daughter is going to bring now. "Like what?"
"There's a man named Uchiha Madara—" and she goes from there, words spilling from her lips in an ever-quickening mess, becoming more and more shrill as the story becomes more and more ridiculous.
(Briefly the thought of, "What the fuck was Kishimoto smoking?" goes through her head, but it's gone as quickly as it came.)
Namika grows paler as she continues, eyes becoming misty, head shaking back and forth like a metronome. "Stop," she faintly utters at last, as Reiko segues into what she knows of Kushina.
She doesn't hear the woman. "And—and she's the Kyūbi's jinchūriki and—"
Suddenly, Reiko's cut off and her cheek is burning sharply, and she can taste blood where her teeth have cut her tongue. Logically, she knows why, but Not-Mother who is Mother really—she really—she doesn't believe. Any hope she has dies a swift, painful death the more the pain in her face grows. Blood trickles from her lips as she watches Namika with glassy, betrayed eyes.
"You are never," Namika snarls—because Reiko will never view her as Mother again—rage transforming the fragile woman into something otherworldly, "never to breathe a word of that—that filthy nonsense ever again! Not a single soul!" she snaps like the bite of a whip when Reiko opens her mouth in protest.
Namika's eyes shimmer with tears and her chest heaves with ferocious breaths Reiko believes are due to shock and mention of her kin. Just how much does the woman know? Is it nothing? Is it everything?
I tried, Reiko thinks, mind shifting to some place dark and delirious. God knows I tried to save them, I did.
"I tried, I tried," she mumbles incoherently, folding in on herself, "but you didn't want to listen. I've seen it, I know it. This is my—our future! And no—"
"Be silent!" Namika screams, at the end of her rope, yanking Reiko to her feet to deliver another harsh slap, the kind one wouldn't normally use on a child. The brutal sound echoes throughout their tiny home.
And nobody will ever hear me, nobody will ever listen.
Reiko never speaks a word about her foreknowledge again, because nobody is listening.
(Was my name really Cassandra?)
零
There's never a question in her mind that she'll go to the Academy instead of what constitutes as regular school in this world. Not-Mother does not dispute this choice for how strange and terribly smart Reiko proves herself to be.
Prodigy, the community whispers, and she sees the terror this causes Namika. Wouldn't it be just awful if rumours concerning how terribly off she is circulate further? Or is she more afraid of her heritage being brought to light?
Reiko doesn't care.
She attends her classes, refusing to speak a word to the children there. The teachers can hardly say anything when she passes all of their tests with flying colours and thoroughly shames the other students every time they spar.
Perhaps it is her genetics, or is it her single-minded determination that grants her such prowess?
It hardly matters to those looking in from the outside; they don't know, they'll never know why.
Reiko's words are always hollow and her eyes are always dead.
If only they could understand.
零
One of her teachers hands out an unassuming piece of paper one day, and asks the class to channel their chakra into it.
Reiko does, watching in fascination as a dampness immediately soaks the paper until it's soggy and dripping down her hand.
This is Taki, so it's not really all that surprising, but unknown to Reiko, there are those watching her with critical eyes in the shadows, already intrigued by her proficiency in advanced sealing and every Uzumaki trait that comes after it.
It's only a matter of time.
零
"What about Kakuzu, Sensei?" a brave little bastard asks their teacher one day, the challenge and defiance clear in his voice.
Reiko's pencil stops against her notebook, the annoying buzzing of children halting to a grinding stop at the familiar name.
Jaded green and red eyes that promise death and tendrils of black rippling beneath patchwork skin are what flash across her vision, bursting like dying stars behind her eyes, static-filled and fading in and out.
Nothing comes of it, though. As Reiko recovers, Shiraha-sensei snaps at the child, cowing him and sending him to stand in the hallway for his disobedience.
Kakuzu's name is a forbidden one, not even used to intimidate children as a fairy-tale boogeyman. Takigakure is deeply angered and ashamed of all the failures associated with the man, this much she's gleaned in her short (long) existence.
Kakuzu: Reiko's never really given him much thought until now, but dredges up from her old memories that he once fought Senju Hashirama and was punished for his loss. She remembers, more acutely now as they come rushing back, how he'd decimated the upper echelons of Taki and stolen their crown jewel of a kinjutsu in retribution, effectively weakening the village and granting himself a degree of immortality.
Reiko honestly admires him for it.
Then, sharp clarity strikes her like a bolt of skin-peeling lightning: immortality. She has died and lived again; there's no such thing as second chances, as only living a second life then being gifted the nothingness of death.
It's entirely possible she'll have to do this all over again.
Her pencil snaps against the paper.
"Reiko, are you alright?" Shiraha-sensei asks her with something akin to concern, but she knows it's not concern for her wellbeing, not at all. (Are you going to snap like one of those school-shooters, huh?)
If she becomes strong, strong enough to dare show her face to the man who would be immortal, could she also…?
A smile creeps across her face, and for the first time in Reiko's life, it's not empty, but filled with a calculated malice, a demented joy. Her eyes must finally be gleaming like the gold they resemble.
Reiko can see the way the teacher shivers and looks away with the same deep-seated discomfort Namika often does.
"I'm perfectly fine, Sensei," she replies evenly, expression falling back into its robotic norm.
For once, telling the truth doesn't bring anything but relief.
零
Kakuzu, Kakuzu, Kakuzu is all Reiko thinks about once her memories of the man are jump-started. She can't stop thinking about how much she wants to be like him—to rend Taki's metaphorical flesh and carve it from the shattering bone, to wreak an unholy vengeance on them in his name—and how much she desires his kinjutsu, to be able to stand at his side like an equal. She falls in love with what he stands for, and the image she creates—because she can't know the real him, but, oh, she will one day. They could live on together forever.
It's such a beautiful dream.
(And no one exists to tell her how insane she is, but is it really any wonder?)
So it begins; she thinks about him when she first wakes, then all day at the Academy—her studies suffer only slightly—and he's the last thought that drifts through her mind when she falls asleep at night. She becomes obsessed with him startlingly quickly, a fierce addiction—another habit she's carried over from her past life to further taint that which Reiko could've been if the infection that is herself hadn't been allowed to fester and spread.
(I'm sick, I'm a disease, and I love it.
You'll love me, too.)
Kakuzu-senpai, she dreamily thinks one day, oozing admiration, unknowingly writing the name in practiced calligraphy throughout her seals.
When she looks down, his name is woven among the kanji and flowing lines of her seals as though they're lovers with their hands so tenderly clasped together.
Reiko feels butterflies in her stomach, and her crimson eyebrows arch as an idea, both awe-inspiring and horrifying, comes to her. Ecstasy rushes through her veins as her heart begins to thump in her chest, blood pounding in her ears.
I want to live forever.
One of her hands traces her ruined seal lovingly as the other comes to rest on her chest, finger drawing an invisible spiral in the air above her heart, a breathless giggle leaving her parted lips.
I want to live together with you forever.
It's so perfect. She knows what she has to do.
零
Reiko finally feels she has a purpose, one that goes beyond the monotony of mere day to day survival. Now, she's determined to become something more, someone that can stand beside the great one that broke the chains behind the waterfall.
"I'll break them with my chains, too," she murmurs delightedly to herself, carefully drawing precise strokes in ink—maybe she should use blood? It's so much more intimate—taking notes when something fails and adding when the numbers and lines flash for a brief moment, signifying victory.
It will be her greatest art, her truest masterpiece, something that will prove her worth and dedication to Kakuzu-senpai.
Chills run through her, like ghostly fingers trailing down her spine. She hums a sweet yet dreadful lullaby to herself—a nearly forgotten melody from a dead world—drunk on the concept of what she aims to do and the chakra buzzing like static lightning through herself and the room.
It's apparently enough to gain Not-Mother's attention. Namika knocks lightly before entering, an off-kilter smile on her face.
"Reiko?" she queries—as she always does because her not-daughter is strange strange strange—an uncharacteristic interest tinting her soft voice.
She offers Not-Mother a brief look because without her, her masterpiece cannot be completed, and her glee must be showing for the woman's expression changes into one of tentative optimism.
"What a lovely tune," she says, genuinely trying to engage Reiko, who simply waits. How is she supposed to concentrate like this?
"Where did you learn it?" Namika continues, eyes briefly darting away in the face of Reiko's stoic silence.
From another world, from a game borne and bathed in blood and madness, she could answer, the joke forever going unnoticed because only she exists to understand it, however she still needs Not-Mother, so she will lie as she's often forced to.
"From Shiraha-sensei," Reiko states, wanting to get back to her work. She makes an exaggerated motion of dipping her brush back into the inkwell.
"Oh, how nice," Not-Mother says offhandedly, her green eyes telling Reiko that her mind's gone some place far away. "It reminds me of Uzu—love. Where did Shiraha-san learn it, I wonder..." she trails off, a faint smile tugging at her lips.
Reiko freezes, wet brush dripping fat drops back into the inkwell. "Love?" she repeats blankly, suddenly fascinated with Namika, and partially amused that a melody mired in horror is reminiscent of something as warm as love.
"Yes, love," she echoes Reiko, coming back to herself, smile taking on a more mischievous curve. "Perhaps there's a boy you love, or are you too young for that?"
Reiko has never been too young and Namika's question is both annoying and intrusive, but she doesn't want to lie this time. No, she can't lie about her absolute love for Kakuzu-senpai; she will indulge Not-Mother in this truth.
"Yes," she answers, smiling in turn at the thought of him, and it's nothing short of deranged. Low giggles rise from her belly, and Reiko titters behind her hand. "There is a man I love," she whispers conspiratorially, leaning in towards Namika, eyes creasing in a happiness she's never shown the other woman.
The fear that fills Namika to the brim spills over into the room, almost tangible. "I-I see. D-do I know him? What—what's his name?" she asks, tripping over her words. She's like a brittle fawn cornered by a snarling mountain lion. What happened to the lioness that dared to raise her own hand against her child in her direst hour of need?
It's so pathetic, that a grown woman can be so frightened of a little girl, Reiko thinks with disdain and moves closer to her not-mother. "His name," she murmurs in elation, eyes unfocused as she conjures up Kakuzu-senpai's visage, "is… Kakuzu," she whispers so softly it's nearly inaudible, but Namika reacts as if she's been struck.
"What?" she demands, head whirling about as though someone in the walls might be listening.
Reiko knows there's no one there, only her not-mother's extreme paranoia. "I said, 'Kakuzu,' or did you not hear me, Mother?" she spits out the title for the first time in years, closing the gap between them.
"Don't say that, you can't say that," Namika's voice rises as her eyes widen and bulge in their sockets, backing towards the door. "That person is—"
Reiko will not allow disrespect towards the man she admires so deeply. Not-Mother will not speak an ill word in her presence.
"Kakuzu," she snaps before Namika can get another word in edgewise. The woman jerks backwards. "Don't ask questions you don't want answers to," Reiko tells her coldly, the sensation of boiling chakra rippling across her back.
Namika slams the door in her face.
I'll break them with my chains, too, in time.
Yes, all in good time.
零
Reiko graduates early with accolades from every teacher that taught her, and is commended by the proctors and lauded by the higher-ups as a true prodigy, a real genius. Truly, what a great asset to Taki she'll be, they all crow.
She wants to laugh and laugh as she did once—if only they knew—but she's too old and bitter for that now. No, she will use them until she's strong and discard them the same way they did Kakuzu-senpai.
He's become so personal to her now, and she's utterly furious on his behalf.
Takigakure is not kind to the weak or those they consider useless. They find pride in their well-bred, powerful ninja and spit on the worthless. Reiko has known worthlessness and what it means to be thrown away as nothing more than common trash, perhaps better than anyone else. She will not allow the village to force her to relive such memories, nor will she ever allow them to treat her as a disposable tool.
She will milk them for all they're worth, then throw them away like the real scum they are.
零
She's put on a genin team with two older boys whose names she doesn't care to remember, to serve under a man they call Shin-sensei.
"She's young," the tall, green-haired one sniffs, giving her a condescending once-over. He has neon orange eyes that make something in her memories growl.
("Let's be friends, ssu!"
Ah, yes, that. If she kills him here, will that annoying, blathering insect's birth be circumvented?)
She will not tolerate this. Her face never changes from its cold expressionless nothing as chakra surges through her body and she moves so quickly she doubts the pathetic little genin can see. His feet go out from under him and she presses down on his throat with her heel, increasing the pressure as he gurgles and desperately grasps at her.
"Any complaints?" she asks him, and by extension the other boy gaping at her in disbelief. So green he doesn't even know how to react. "Pitiful," the redhead scoffs, hair framing her face like a bloody curtain as she looks down on him.
She only realizes she never had any intention to let go—ha, who do you think you're fooling? You wanted to—when Shin-sensei pulls her off of the barely breathing boy, issuing a harsh reprimand and some idiocy about teamwork.
She wants nothing more than to openly sneer at his comments, but refrains. Fine, she'll play their game for now. It won't do to garner so much suspicion before the time is right (Namika is too frightened and weak to dare breathe a word; she doesn't even register as a threat, so wrapped up in herself and keeping the 'U' word a secret to out Reiko).
Teamwork, though? How laughable. One does not survive the harshness of the world on teamwork, of all things.
"Rei," she states flatly when the trounced boy stops his pitiful caterwauling. They all turn to look at her. "My name is Rei," she states again with an air of finality, before Shin-sensei can open his mouth.
Reiko dies that day, because the name never suited her anyway. 'Nothingness' is far more appropriate.
零
The Chūnin Exams come after years of blurry, useless slews of unmemorable missions (she dutifully works on her seal all throughout). The Third Shinobi World War is already in full-swing by the time their sensei signs them on, and Rei knows it's not because he thinks they're ready, but because Taki needs to send more cattle to the slaughter on Konoha's behalf in order to keep the uneasy treaty between them. (That's what you get for condemning Kakuzu-senpai so monstrously, you pigs.)
So be it. She'll treat it as the stepping stone it is and leave the rest of them to burn. It's a shame the village is watching, so she can't do exactly as she pleases.
It would be so much better if she could drench her hands in blood, but it will be enough.
The first time Rei technically kills someone, they're fighting on an arena of water, surrounded by small waterfalls and the immense roots of the Great Tree that make themselves present wherever they deign to grow.
Rei sidesteps a punch meant to steal the air from her lungs and with a small pulse of chakra activates the seal drawn and hidden underneath the bandages coating her forearm to return it with even greater strength. She feels her opponent's ribs shatter under the force of her blow and his ghostly white face mirrors what she knows inside: that the shards of his bones have punctured his internal organs.
"Crazy bitch!" one of the opposing team curses her before Michio sweeps inside his guard to distract him.
"Rei!" he calls to her in desperation (disgusting weakling), grappling with the other teen as the water beneath their feet rises and falls in tumultuous waves—something she's keenly aware of—"Daigo is—!"
She doesn't care, has never cared for her teammates, who have only served to hold her back. She's fairly certain Daigo is already dead or drowning, and the proctors have done nothing to stop it.
It's all the permission she needs.
Rei's hands fly through tried and true seals and then the water opens up with a deafening boom. In the split second that it takes for it to rise in tall walls, she sees Michio's shocked, horrified expression, his eyes dearly begging her why why WHY before she thrusts her hands down and the columns of water surge downwards in tandem, slamming into the two with unparalleled force, washing away the teen who would've been Fū's father.
She feels nothing, except a twisted sense of disappointment that he really didn't die by her own hand, but by the water that drowned him.
零
Taki grants her the mantle of chūnin and a slight reprimand, however they are mostly happy with their new, ready-to-deploy weapon. Michio was never considered a prodigy, and more importantly he was never above her, not for a second.
No one will miss him.
As she gives Hisen-sama a practiced bow, Rei idly supposes whoever would have made Fū a jinchūriki would've come from her mother's side.
She's too obsessed with Kakuzu and too far gone to consider that perhaps Namika never existed in a world where she didn't, that the Butterfly Effect and causality are indeed powerful forces, that countless eyes have been appraising her from her very birth. That Fū's name will never matter in the universe she exists in.
There is no Fū to Takigakure, only Uzumaki Rei, a candidate most fitting for the Nanabi when the time draws nigh.
(If only they had been able to perceive the sheer magnitude of the mistake they desire, in ignorance, to make.)
零
Rei has always known that it's impossible to go back, but the first time she kills someone with her own hands truly cements it. Traps, tags, jutsu, seals—none of them have ever really struck a chord in her. Those deaths have always felt impersonal and detached, like her hands must be stained in blood for it to count.
And the day finally comes when she can slake that bloodlust.
It was really very easy: the enemy was distracted by one of her teammates—fodder—and she slid up behind him as silent as the grave she never should've come back from, and slit his throat in one seamless motion.
She never forgets the way his warm blood splattered across her hands—a sloppy mistake on her part, but she will always remember how it warmed them, the sensation of heat and comfort greater than any flame could possibly bring.
It had made her feel powerful, and and had felt good, felt right.
It made her feel at home, and that day on the battlefield she'd laughed madly again, terrifying both factions of shinobi and killing the opposing one in a rain of blood, steel, and ink.
They begin to call her the Red Death after that day. It's simplistic but oh-so-true. The enemy should know to run when they see the woman from Taki with the length of crimson hair flying like a flag of war across the battlefield, surrounded by a sickly red haze and seals wrought of blood.
She does this for years, writing her legacy in blood instead of the ink of her supposed people, at last at peace with her place in the world. With each passing day and with every new life that stains her hands, she feels closer to the legend known as Kakuzu-senpai.
Death is never an option if she wants to meet him, if she truly desires to be immortal, so she fights every battle tooth and nail, like it will be her last, and always she's victorious.
One day, she will meet him, and in her delusions, she thinks it will be glorious. Taki is merely a stepping stone to greatness.
Except… Takigakure stops looking at her as a little girl. They know exactly what kind of monster they're dealing with now, and it doesn't take them long to make their move.
零
A secret: Namika has not been useless. She hardly ever speaks of her brethren, but she makes certain to teach her not-daughter her complete knowledge in the art of sealing.
It turns out to be her greatest mistake, for men come for her in the night when Reiko—"My name is Rei, woman," her cold voice snaps like a snake bite—is gone to fight in the war.
She tries to scream and struggles against their efforts, but sickness and years of offering her chakra in exchange for protection and silence has turned her into a slowly cracking husk of her former self.
Why has Hisen betrayed her after all these years?
Namika is ashamed to call herself an Uzumaki, even moreso now that she's unleashed the abomination that is her daughter on the unsuspecting world.
Yet, it was her choice to leave Reiko with that knowledge. What did she hope to achieve by doing such a thing? She's known from the beginning that the thing masquerading as her child isn't right, that it's some broken creature from the beyond.
...A creature she couldn't bring herself to kill while she had the chance. (She's your daughter, never forget, never forget—you did this.)
As they drag her into a room that is filled with familiar seals, Namika, powerless and sobbing, knows. In the back of her mind, she's expected this day, but has been filled with so much denial—that the kind Hisen would never do this to her. They throw her to the ground and the doors slam shut behind her, all of the seals lighting the darkness eerily.
She feels it start to take hold as they rip open her clothes to draw the seals on her. She almost wants to tell them she can do it herself, she's an Uzumaki, after all, but she has no pride as one left.
She cannot dare to call herself by that name anymore.
The truth, Namika admits to herself as the beast is forced into her shrieking self, is that she's taught Reiko everything she knows in hopes that her not-daughter might have been able to subvert this day—to protect her.
…But not herself, because the thing known as Reiko is a monster and would be far more fitting for this role.
As Namika's world begins to darken, she laughs, hoarse and broken, at the thought. Yes, it will be Reiko's turn next, of this she is sure.
零
Rei's squad, precariously nestled on the borders of three separate countries—Fire, Waterfall, and Grass—is resting under the cover of night, the sky darkened and clouded over as if to mirror their shaken, unsure feelings. An uncharacteristically cold wind is blowing despite their proximity to Fire Country, and Rei cannot suppress an amused smirk that they are perhaps in the midst of some sort of Bermuda Triangle, as it were.
Well, even if they are, she's sure she'll be the only one not to disappear into the dark, Rei thinks with a cold smile, swallowing the mad laughter tickling her throat. It's damn near impossible for her to sleep these days—the broken souls crying out in agony and despair stoke the simmering embers resting inside of her into a roaring inferno without fail—and she wonders when it will begin to show, but she'll be damned if she's not making use of the time.
Rei pulls her scroll closer to her, determined to continue crafting the seal she's been working on for the better part of thirteen years. The prototype is nearing completion, a fact that makes her positively giddy—soon she can show her face and her unwavering loyalty to Kakuzu-senpai—but she's certain she'll need a few human guinea pigs and some tweaking before altering the fabric of her self. It won't do to have her heart explode in her chest after so many years of careful work, to be undone by her own rushed excitement.
She's already waited so long that waiting a little longer won't hurt, and fatigue is gnawing at her bones like a persistent dog. Perhaps it's time to try to rest. An unfocused mind does not become a fūinjutsu master.
When she's finally resting against the hard ground and sleep is coiling behind her eyes like indolent serpents does it all click.
They are here to back Konoha-nin against Iwa's push, to help secure the destruction of a certain supplyline.
Kannabi Bridge.
This is the first time Rei's ever been close to anything she's known from black and white manga pages. She stuffs a fist into her mouth to quiet the maniacal giggles wracking her body—real, it's real. Beside her, her teammate shivers and tries to inch away from her.
Based on such knowledge, the Infinite Tsukuyomi is merely a dream that would have her believe she's living alongside Kakuzu-senpai, while the real thing rots away tangled amongst the roots of the God Tree. No, the Uchiha cannot be allowed to complete such a travesty, Rei thinks with conviction, hands curling into angrily trembling fists.
It won't do to leave this be, as much as she doesn't care to meddle with the lives of three useless children. Tomorrow, she decides, is the day she's going to change the world.
Kakuzu-senpai is the axis on which her world spins, and she will change it for him alone.
Notes: The kanji I use between linebreaks roughly translates to "zero, nothing, nothingness, naught." If this is incorrect, I'll change it, but I thiiink jiemae checked it for me months ago?
Sorry to disappoint about the lack of Kakuzu. He'll appear in the next chapter for sure. If you're thinking, "How the hell is Rei considered a genius and yet still so blind?" well, that's human nature for ya, and she already had a fucked up ending, another fucked up beginning, and wherever this horrifying journey's taking her... Also gonna word of god that she's not related to Orochimaru. She just has gold eyes.
Thoughts on Rei as a character? Are you rooting for her or are you against her? What do you think will happen to Team Minato? How do you think Kakuzu will react to Rei? Do you think she can pull it off? Is there anything you specifically want to see happen, especially in regards to Rei and Kakuzu?
Haha, hopefully that's enough questions to get you thinking and toss me some answers! I do have some stuff set in stone, but nothing usually ever is, so your input is very welcome if you have a different path envisioned for them. Will this be my return to the Naruto fandom...? o:
(please be nice while i go sweat in a corner over posting this)