Tooth and Claw
Summary: Pressures and expectations were no stranger to Shikon Inuzuka, though perhaps she is an abnormality. But in a world of underhanded games and deceit, the script only comes second – the pack comes first. [ Reincarnation!Clan-heir!OC-Insert GEN ]
A/N: This isn't my first fic (that would never see the light of day), but I'm still relatively new to this writing jig, so sorry in advance. I know it's bad. Practice makes perfect, hopefully.
I think I'm screwing canon a little, but hey, it's fanfiction, right? Though if things do look really really odd, please bring it up. I'm impossible.
Prologue
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The Inuzuka Clan was, put nicely, wild.
Of course, saying that to an Inuzuka's face would be rather ill-advised, even if one is prepared for the imminent explosion of fur and fangs.
Even so, that did not mean the clan lacked order. While the more refined aspects of prestige were diluted, relations between the clan and the village were required to remain civil, regardless of the pack's opinions on the more haughty members of Konohagakure.
The reputation the clan possessed prior to the founding of the village was far from kind – barbaric, savage, animalistic were common descriptions.
But that didn't mean that the clan was unwilling to change. They knew that associating with other clans would be difficult; they knew it was necessary to adapt.
They wanted the new, peaceful life. The Will of Fire seemed so extraordinary.
It was the reason the clan stepped up to join the man with such radical ideals, instead of remaining out in the land, wild and free.
Politics was a game the pack was relatively new at. Friendly alliances were difficult for a clan who spent decades in relative isolation, treated with hostility and disgust by others are their primitive but efficient lifestyle.
The more cultured clans openly looked down on the Inuzuka, the Hyuuga and Uchiha glaring with their unnatural eyes. The Yamanaka, Akimichi, Sarutobi were not as obvious in their distaste, but there was a measure of unease at the level of dependency and equality the pack shared with their partners.
The Aburames were perhaps the only others who comprehended the pack's symbiosis, yet the competitive rivalry between the two trackers soured their relationship.
They just didn't understand.
Throughout all this, the pack simply endured. The Senjuu did their best to accommodate, but the pack sympathised with their precarious position.
Never let it be said that the Inuzuka were not loyal.
Within the clan, it was much simpler.
The Alpha leads. The pack follows.
There was no need for fake smiles and forced politeness. Emotions were expressed through snarls and bared fangs. Retaliation was not only allowed, but encouraged. Little fights and scraps were considered a learning experience.
Respect for the Alpha prevented incidents from getting out of hand. It wasn't only the power he possessed that commanded their obedience, but his bravery, his commitment, his ability to inspire.
The Alpha was responsible for the pack, but the pack revered the Alpha too much to disappoint him.
The Alpha was the most important being in the pack.
Thus, when it was revealed that the Alpha would have a child, the pack was understandably excited.
Whispers echoed across the unusually quiet compound, both man and beast hushed and anticipative. Kenshi Inuzuka and Makkuro were the pride of the clan, their actions during the First World War solidifying their position as Konoha's more renowned frontline fighters. The power the pair showed proved the Inuzuka indispensable.
Such unanimous discipline among the clan members was nearly unheard of, but the moment was so significant, almost sacred.
Kenshi's heir has high aspirations to reach for.
A single squalling, choked cry burst from the main house, loud in the restrained silence. The babe gurgled, and was quiet. A few moments later, the door opened, and Kenshi stepped out, holding the infant in his arms. No one noticed the lingering disappointment at the edges of his expression as the Inuzuka cheered.
The atmosphere was buzzed with energy, excitement persisting for years after the heir's birth.
The Inuzuka had hope. Hope that the heir would lead them to greatness.
It mattered little to them that the heir was female, for she was Kenshi's. Her father locked away his displeasure behind an iron wall, bringing up his child with strict and rigorous training.
Expectations pressed down on the heir, moulding her into confident, if stoic child.
The heir was prodigious in some aspects, much to the pack's delight. The heir learned quickly, absorbing knowledge and picking up skills with such frightful urgency. She displayed such acute intelligence, such mature reasoning that it almost looked out of place for a child so young. The academy proved to be of little challenge to her, and she fought for the top spot with only the other clan children.
The heir was living up to the expectations of her family.
Kenshi's second child was born with much less fanfare, another girl that forced a scowl of disgust to appear on his visage.
If the heir was treated more forcefully, more aggressively, no one took notice.
The heir flourished.
There was, however, one more thing that had to be done.
The most important event for an Inuzuka.
A rite of passage, they would say.
Un-imprinted dogs, should they not have a human family, lived in their own area, adjacent to the veterinary. Inuzuka who become of age would come here to find a compatible partner, usually among the recent litters born by the kennel.
The partners would imprint for life.
They would live together, learn together, train together, fight together. Only death would separate them.
The heir stepped into the kennel, gracefully avoiding the puppies that ran underfoot as the Alpha stood watchful, remindful over her shoulder. The kennel caretaker, a mischievous yet responsible young woman, idled eagerly beside the gate, watching, looking.
A few pups recognised the scent of the Alpha and yipped, trotting forwards to catch a glimpse of their hero. The older dogs made to stand, heads bowed in respect. Parents nipped at their unruly offspring, nudging them to stand at attention.
If there was no compatible hound among those present, the Inuzuka was permitted to search among the next few litters, but it was considered an ill omen among the older, superstitious members. As if the longer it took to find a partner, the less worthy the companion.
The heir stooped over, rubbing the ear of an insistent puppy. She could feel the eyes of her clan boring into her back, a physical weight.
Everyone was watching.
The heir made her way around the kennel, stopping every few seconds to play with the younger dogs. Then she froze.
A lone, silver-furred hound perked up, dislodging the sleeping pup on her back. Like coursing electricity, the dog was jolted by the heir's gaze.
Kindred Spirit, the dog thought, outrageously, and dashed towards to still startled child.
"Ginko? Ginko what's wrong?" the caretaker intervened, concerned at the abruptness of the incident.
"Is that her name?" the heir says, a small smile beginning to bloom. "Ginko," she calls, and the hound responds, trying to soak in the warmth, the happiness that accompanied the feeling of togetherness, wholeness.
Ginko meets the heir's eyes and ignores everything else, for all that mattered was the look behind her slitted pupils. Love, is the thought that channels through her. Kinship.
The caretaker clears her throat, looking between the looming Alpha and the small child. "Are you sure? Ginko's not exactly young, y'know – "
"Yes," her partner snaps, annoyed. Ginko bristles, before recalling their position. Kenshi and Makkuro stand behind them, looking for all in the world calm and patient.
"Father, I choose her," the heir states, the finality in her voice giving no room for argument. The Alpha's stare is assessing, unrelenting. He slowly nods once.
The newfound companions had tolerate the scrutiny of the clan for some time before they could finally be alone. As Ginko bids farewell to her mates, her children, she couldn't help but puzzle over the connection she found with her partner.
Something.
There was something about the heir that sent a shock of familiarity through her.
Soon, they are alone.
The old oak tree is their only watcher as the companions seek privacy in the clearing behind the compound.
By this time, Ginko is certain of what she had seen in her partner's gaze.
Mother hood.
Alone with her partner, Ginko can only listen.
"Ginko," Shikon, starts, polite and gentle in a rare but refreshing way. "Can I tell you a secret?"