Isthmus, a naruto fanfic

Title

Current: Isthmus

Previous: Amaranthine

Summary

Current: Handle with care – because whoever thought a 23 year old lawyer would be all set for reincarnation was clearly dead wrong. After all, there's something explosive about the presence of someone tenacious enough to escape death. [Male OC / SI] [Kiri, 3rd Shinobi War]

Previous: Can you think of places that you most certainly wouldn't want to reincarnated into? Broken homes, backwards cultures, where murderers are never prosecuted – oh wait, I got all of them. [Male OC / SI ] [Kirigakure ; 3rd Shinobi War]

Characters

Genre

Adventure

Rating

T for language and violence.

Quick suggestion: if you're reading this on a laptop/desktop computer, I'd suggest reading in 3/4 or even 1/2 view, simply because my formatting looks more like how I originally intended it to. On the desktop site, the lines look too short and everything just a bit off, and it really does annoy me.

Nishiwaki Yukichi was not a child born of love.

As a reflection of this, his mother hated him with all her withered, little heart.

Perhaps he was her own flesh and blood – however, he was also another mouth to feed, and it simply was a fact that she couldn't afford that. No one willingly wanted to work in the red light district, and it spoke volumes about her wages (about her prospects, about how desperate she was) that she was doing just that.

When you got down to it, he was nothing but a burden.

Nevertheless, he was a ticket to a better life. If she could just keep him alive long enough to be past the 'in imminent danger of death' stage, then there was just a chance that the clan would take him in.

A big chance – they didn't want loads of orphans waltzing around the slums with their Kekkei Genkai. Probably.

After all, she had to hope. (There wasn't exactly anything else to pin her hopes on.)

And although her hands did not carry a loving caress, even though sometimes she debated just slitting his neck and being done with it all, even though he was left alone for hours at a time as she slaved to keep a roof over their heads - he should be thankful that he was alive at all.

Our lives are made up by senses. By sight, smell, touch, hearing, taste, feeling – and so you could not possibly understand when I say that in death I could feel nothing. There was, after all, precisely nada there except for the sea of other dead souls, no brain to be conscious, no hands or nasal cavities or any of that. Just – nothing.

Death was made remarkable by the absence of it.

Needless to say, I abhorred it. (Everything individual about myself brutally ripped away, leaving nothing except utter nothingness, so much that I felt I was going to drown in it–)

Let's talk about something else.

I probably shouldn't have started with that, anyway - yet there is the infallible wisdom of hindsight that always serves to dampen the mood.

If I'm going to be honest, I don't know how I died. I'm suspecting head trauma. Only snippets were left – intermittently flashing lights, the pungent scent of blood, and pain. Lots of pain. Each half-formed memory was uncomfortable to relive, to say the least, with every gap making me feel off-kilter, as if something was horribly wrong, and the ones that existed were ugly and twisted.

And for your information, blood does not have a 'bittersweet, coppery scent'. It smelled disgusting, like a rotting carcass – describing it as copper would be like comparing dried sewer muck to the odd, musty smell of old books. Both were rather pungent, to say the least, and not necessarily pleasant, however one is bearable and the other is positively rancid.

Just as a note, my death is a rather touchy subject. If there was such a thing as mental 'Keep Out' tape, it would be smothered in the stuff.

Dying isn't something you brag about – because it means you failed. (You didn't live to see the next day, didn't live to see the future.)

Anyway.

Let's go back to Death, and my absolutely wonderful experiences with it. So wonderful that, if Death had a personification, I would have no issues with going up to him and punching him in the stomach, preferably with a sledgehammer.

I suppose the oddest part of it would be that I was aware I was dead.

Just in the same way that I was aware that I couldn't feel a single thing – as in, I couldn't feel anything, and thus it didn't really occur to me that it was particularly important. Or that anything was particularly important. Not time, not being alive, not even the fact that I'd just been hit around the head with something and suffered a rather agonising death.

I don't like to think about it much.

(Honestly? It's terrifying, that state of total apathy – not being able to feel a thing. Like that – you could literally see your grandma be stabbed in front of you and not react in the slightest.)

(Not that I'd tell anyone about that, of course. For all intents and purposes, I do not talk about Death.)

And then it ended. Warmth fizzed upon my skin, and suddenly I didn't feel so blank, so empty, and I embraced this change of scenery. After so long of being completely numb, it was almost like an overload of senses, and I spent a good long while basking in feeling, and existence, and just being alive.

I suppose that, at this point in time, I should note that there also wasn't a lot going on in my noggin.

I doubted very much that I could think at all, even if I had tried.

Regardless, it was peaceful for a long while. Or maybe it was short. My sense of time, at that point, was still severely skewed – but hey, at least it existed. (Better than nothing.)

And then it ended.

'Warm place of not-Death' came to screeching halt of a split-second (or a moment, or a mile) of blinding light came, of intense pressure and then sensation of being crushed and suddenly I was breathing air again, my limbs existed, a hum of energy in my chest.

And I was alive, and helpless, and absolutely terrified.

That warmth was gone, replaced with cold and loneliness so reminiscent of Death's Realm - and I gave into those instincts to cry myself hoarse, to screech and shriek until my throat was raw and I could no longer summon the energy to continue, and even then I kept going until I tasted blood in my mouth and the clutches of sleep dragged me under.

Multiple times I awoke, only to begin screaming again. Eventually, my throat grew so painful I could no longer do that, and during those time periods the one I assumed was my mother forced fluids into me with a less-than-caring hand, which only sent me into fresh peals of rasping cries.

Now that I think back on it, that was probably why I was blessed with a slightly hoarse voice for the rest of my life. No doubt I was crying far more than the average baby.

Yet, eventually I managed to draw upon the energy to open my eyes, to see, to listen. And I stopped wailing quite as much – though, if it was dark, then I would begin afresh, being reminded far too much of the experience of nothingness.

Doubtless, I must have been a strange baby. Too deliberate, too aware, and always utterly miserable. (A misery to keep around as well, I imagine.)

And far too loud.

Although, among all the screaming and bad memories, there was the pleasant surprise of being a boy. (Seems that Death does grant wishes. I would not have been happy, being a girl in my second life. Impromptu sex changes were definitely not on my list of things I wanted to wake up to.)

Eventually, I began crawling around. Picking things up (and dropping things, too), then it got to walking in circles, clinging to chairs or tables or grooves in the walls, and eventually I began a side project to make myself ambidextrous early on in life.

Mother didn't give a crap, making everything just a little harder, since chairs are far less forgiving when you fall onto them than humans.

Regardless, I got there eventually, accompanied by a vicious independent streak that would've had most parents terrified by the fact that their child was climbing all over the (precariously wobbly) cupboards to fetch some peanuts to eat. In my defence, it wasn't my fault that the cupboards were on their last legs.

After regaining mobility (and I was planning all this, a mental to-do list where I checked each thing off in order), I began attempting to seriously learn the language.

Unfortunately, that task was made monumentally difficult by the fact my mother was hardly ever at home. Whenever she was, she did the barest essentials to care for me – food and liquid, perhaps a story read to me if I was particularly lucky– before collapsing into her bed at noon.

I had my suspicions that she was a prostitute, so I was a little less harsh (she was doing a lot to keep me alive, and I had to thank her for that – really) – however when she spends a grand total of 15 minutes with you per day, it's hard not to be a little angry.

Yet, over time, it seems she did become a little more comforting. It might just be a pat on the head, or an extra bit of food, however it still made me feel a little better. A little less lonely, as a child in city I didn't recognise and being utterly alone and so, incredibly dependent on a single person to keep me alive.

Over time – it might have been a year, it might have been three, I really wasn't certain – I relearned how to walk, how to speak whatever Japanese derivative they spoke in, the basics of reading and writing. And despite our somewhat rocky start, my mother now freely hugged me and aided me whenever she could with my writing, indulging me in small smiles and compliments.

Apparently I was a prodigy, a genius, and that made me giggle a little. It felt good to be praised like that. I wasn't really – I knew that – but I'd keep whatever I had going for as long as possible. (I didn't want her to drift away again, leaving me abandoned in this flat and allowing my mind to fill in the gaps.)

Honestly, I should have known that everything would crash. Badly.

ii.

"Wha- you don't…" apparently struggling for words, her lips turned into a disgusted scowl, in sharp contrast to that previously sugar-sweet smile. "So, you don't take in half-bloods?"

"Why else do you think we can sleep around so much?" Giving a low chuckle, he then quickly wiped the mirth off his face. "The vast majority of bastard children will never unlock the Hozuki Kekkei Genkai. And those that can… well, they're just cannon fodder."

It barely pained him at all to leave her, the lowly prostitute. Call it what you will – indifference, the somewhat-infamous Hozuki clan arrogance or simply plain heartlessness, however it was above her station to think he would take her in.

How sad.

They really were pitiable.

A wicked grin spread over his lips as a furious shriek echoed around the scarcely-inhabited back streets of the richer quarter.

A competent shinobi, yes. Somewhat sociable and easy on the eyes, certainly. However, no one ever called Hozuki Tetsuo kindly, and that was with good reason. Getting her hopes up – what was she thinking? No one was ever charitable in Kirigakure. Those that deigned themselves to rise above their station without the power to back themselves up, well…

They were cut down, of course.

Whistling light-heartedly, he causally swerved around whom he assumed was a fisherman, hunchbacked and dressed in rags. Apparently he was meeting his fiancée for the first time today, and it wouldn't look good to be late.

I'd long realised this wasn't the same society - or even time period (not with how disgusting the toilet was. And the unsanitary amount of dirt and mould everywhere). And there were different customs and expectation which I didn't know of from my relatively sheltered lifestyle.

Did I want to know the nastier ones? No, I didn't, but it was more a case of them coming to me.

It started when she came back home with something of a wicked smile on her face. Once again, her touches were cold and rough, and although the slightest amount of regret showed when I started crying again, there wasn't a hug or kiss forthcoming.

Loneliness filled my heart again, and I slept that night with a heavy heart.

Then, when I woke again, I was outside for the first time. Breathing in (the scent of salt water was sharper now, plus the distant undertones of decaying fish and metal and blood), I wrinkled up my face before my eyes slowly blinked open and I began fully processing my surroundings. This was definitely richer than the tip we lived in – no broken windows, no rubbish littering the streets.

A sharp, almost-screech from Mother, right by my ear, snapped me out of my lazy reverie, and I quickly assessed the situation, tensing as more sharp words were being exchanged between my mother and a foreign man. They were too fast for me to follow, but I could understand enough to get the gist of it and – was she trying to give me away?

Wait.

I have the same eye colour as this man (and boy had it been a surprise, bearing lavender eyes) so… does that make him my father? And she's a prostitute. It really wouldn't be too much of a reach to say that she's trying to make him take responsibility for me.

Her yells stepped up another decibel, and I winced.

Well, if she's going to all this effort to guilt trip him, then he must be someone in an important position. Rich? Well, he looks the part – although his strange tunic-thing would have been average in quality in my past life, it was clearly ridiculously high quality in this life, especially compared to the coarse, frayed material that both I and my mother were decked in.

Yet then I squinted.

What the actual fuck is that headband around his forehead?

Straining my eyes, I could make out the metal plate, plus three engraved lines. Wasn't that the Kiri headband-thing?

From Naruto?

Oh - fuck.

A few tears built up in my eyes, and I sniffed to hold back the screams.

Because if this was Kiri, that meant death and blood and maniacs roaming around every corner

Lots of death, and so much blood that it was almost drowning in it, and enough maniacs to give them a bad reputation in a world where killing can be morally correct.

'Don't scream, don't scream' was the mantra in my head, even as the man – the presumable father – turned around with a sadistic smile playing on his lips, leaving without a parting.

And my mother screamed, looking at me with cold fury in her eyes, and I began to sob.

She looked back, once, when she dumped me in that alleyway.

Yet she still didn't come back.

Sniffling pathetically on the filthy ground, I just about sat up, wiping off my hands with shaky hands.

I was a 1 or 2 year old child, abandoned on the streets of Kiri. Which also happened to be part of the Naruto, and considered the most depraved of the Villages, with so many ninjas deciding they detested it and doing a runner that they had other ninja whose only purpose was to hunt them down.

A toddler, fending for himself in the most bloodthirsty place in the Elemental countries.

Gulping a little, I balanced against the war, wobbling dangerously. Honestly, I could barely walk. I was pathetic, like a crushed worm on the footpath. Disgusting.

"Hey, you!" Another kid's voice shocked me out of my reverie, and I hastily (or as quickly as I could) spun around, rubbing at my splotchy face. "Who are you?"

Standing there was clearly another orphan. Dirt collected under his fingernails and his clothes were tattered, clearly worn far past when anyone else would dump it. His hands were uncomfortably bony.

Yet, although he clearly wasn't doing well, genuine goodwill was in his eyes.

Or maybe it wasn't. After all, doesn't the Naruto world have those prodigy ninja, trained from their toddler years? And when pushed into a corner, humans tended to adapt. Lying was one of those adaptions.

"I-I…" Pressing my lips together, I regarded him with suspicion. "Who you?" I settled on, wincing at how weak it sounded.

Though, it seemed to be a good enough answer, as his eyes softened slightly. "I'm Toru. I-" Suddenly, he clammed up, flashing a quick look over his shoulder. "I'm going to get Boss now, so just stay here, okay?"

Boss, huh? I mulled over it in my head as he vaulted away, a look of sheepishness on his face.

Well, it isn't like my prospects are any better, a single orphan on the streets, without a penny to my name. 'Boss' implies there's some kind of organised group, and I suspect I'd fare much better within the system rather than as some kind of starving, lone toddler. Yeah, fight the system by starving to death. What a great way to go.

(A bitter smile briefly twisted my lips.)

Yawning a little, I leant back against the wall, fighting the oncoming sleep. Everything about the past few hours had been an emotional rollercoaster – from 'father', to mother, to the streets.

Idly, I doodled a few flowers in the dirt with my finger.

A slightly creak as the fence buckled under someone's weight alerted me to Toru's arrival, and I stood back up just in time for 'Boss' to remerge in the alleyway, hastily wiping the dirt off my finger onto the hem of my shirt and attempting to subtly kick dirt back over my drawings.

Although - 'Boss' wasn't exactly the person I had been expecting. It was a short boy – stocky build, slightly hollow cheeks and hard – too hard – eyes. (No child should have those eyes – yet it seemed to be almost an expectation in this society.)

"Hello." My dozy mind slowly translated his words, lagging every now and then as I fought to keep drooping eyelids from giving away my fatigue. "I'm Hiro."

No surname, huh?

For some reason, it hurt a little bit to think I was throwing away my family name, just like that – although, it was completely irrational to think so. I mean, she only raised me in hopes that my rich father could be guilt-tripped, then she ditched me as soon as her plan failed.

Blinking away a few more beckons of sleep, I introduced myself. "I am…" What was my name again? 'Taylor' came to mind, however I quickly squashed that thought. "Yu-ki-chi." Yes, that was it. Nodding to myself, I repeated it. "Yukichi." That was me now.

No need to think about it.

No need at all.

If you repeat it enough, it becomes true.

"Okay, Yukichi." None of those 'honorifics'? Well, what would street rats do with them anyway? Makes sense, kind of. "We're a group of orphans who have come together to make sure we're all fed and have a roof over our head. Would you like to join our group?"

For a moment, I blinked expectedly, assuming that he'd give a little more detail than that (which was potentially one of the barest explanations of an organisation that I'd ever heard) however he was not forthcoming, and quickly I hid my surprise and turned the proposition over in my mind.

I was a bastard child on the streets of Kiri, and – if planning for a worst case scenario – no one is going to come for me. (Swiftly, I put down the ache in my heart at those words). Even in a better-case scenario where I don't have an incredibly agonising death as I waste away in a gutter, there's still no one who wants me in the world. And I had no idea how to survive, since I'd probably end up with my hands (or my head) chopped off for trying to pickpocket a ninja or something equally stupid.

The worst thing that could happen with this group is being used as a human meat shield from authorities or similar – or becoming a ninja, potentially – however my prospects were still slightly better in the group than starving to death on a street corner. Slightly.

A slight pang of guilt hit me – I was going to rob from honest, hardworking people – but then the memories followed. Of death. Of slowly starving of air, of mind, of being – and my arguments shrivelled.

"Okay." Giving a quick nod to affirm my point, I only took a moment to react to the hand reaching out to me.

And only shivered a little bit at the amount of dirt that caked those very hands.

"This…" searching for the right words, I fumbled over my speech a little. "…is be home?"

"This is home, yes." Idly corrected Hiro.

These kids needed a mother. And maybe a builder, too.

'Home', or 'Base', or whatever else they deemed it to be, was a rickety shed – if I was being kind. It could also be described as a few planks of wood nailed together in the rough shape of a house. Every time someone stepped, everything shook and creaked slightly, sending shivers up my spine.

And that was just the architecture.

There was dirt everywhere. It collected in entire mounds, gripping to every surface. And there were no fewer than three holes in the roof, leaving some of the wood rotting, supports with ominous holes in them (as if I didn't need more reasons to fear for my life).

Yet I was tired, in the physical body of a toddler, and utterly exhausted. So, choosing a spot which had a little less grime on it, I was immediately out like a light, hearing a few laughs from Hiro and Taro as my eyelids slid closed.

Upon waking, I felt some kind of coarse fabric surrounding me.

'That isn't Mother's blanket.' It dully registered in my mind, every bone in my body screaming at me to go back to sleep, that it was too early.

Then I shot up.

And calmed again.

It was 'Home'. The whole thing swayed and groaned, certainly, but it was 'Home' now. I could deal with it. (Better than the streets, or a trash can, or a rat-infested rubbish pile.) Next to me, Toru – the boy that'd found me – was curled up, drooling slightly. Smiling a little – it was adorable, honestly – I snuggled up to him (he was warm, like a little radiator), and I fell into the throes of sleep again.

"Hey, you Yukichi guy, wake up already!" Swatting absently at the voice, I felt a small rush of satisfaction as it hit something solid. "Ugh, Yukichi! You jerk!" Footsteps and some creaking led away from my side, and I grinned a little as I fell back into a drowsy state.

Then it was freezing, and I was very wet.

Sitting bolt upright, I glared at whoever dared dump water on my head. A few laughs came from somewhere behind me, and I scowled – I could be getting hypothermia, and they wouldn't even care!

Then I blinked in confusion as I saw a very unfamiliar face.

"I'm Yasu!" Giving a rougish grin, he lightly massaged a red print on the side of his nose. "I got told to wake you up, 'cause we're going earning, and I have to teach you how not to be stupid."

What shocked me most, though, was his bright purple hair.

Seemingly catching my eyes, his smile turned a little more sheepish. "Yeah, my hair's kinda weird." Giving a cursory look behind him, he inched a little closer. "We think it's because I'm related to the Tsukanama clan. Like you and the Hozuki."

"Is…"

"Is it that obvious?" Giving a slight chuckle, he gave me a slap on the back that nearly made me tip up. "Yep, Yukichi. I mean, how many people have purple eyes?" I pouted.

Yet, nothing stopped me from grinning once I'd made my first successful robbery and Yasu cheered me on.

More guilt. This was a society that'd be driven to such ends that it was normal, even praised, to make a successful robbery.

Yet, if I didn't want to die… well, 'In Rome, do as the Romans do'.

Paste on a smile, and leave those old ways of thinking behind – this is not the time, place, or universe for them.

(In the court of my mind, I am at once the criminal, the prosecutor and the judge, and all three are guilty.)

Arriving back at home, flushed and smiling a little, I was immediately greeted by Toru. "Hey, Yukichi! Go over there and Nari will treat your bruises… eh?" I blushed brightly as Toru patted me down, a look of wonder in his eyes. "You didn't get caught?"

"Nope!" Like a proud parent, Yasu patted my head. "This guy is a lot smarter than his speech suggests." Going red again, I attempted to slap away Yasu's hand, grumbling a little as he danced out of the way.

"Wow." Stars were in Toru's eyes. Whatever he was seeing, it definitely wasn't reality. "You're, like, a prodigy! I ended up with bruises for weeks." Wincing, he rubbed phantom aches.

"I-I am not be a prodigy!" Flapping my hands at Toru, he snorted at my terrible grammar, all signs of worship long gone.

"It's 'I'm not a prodigy'." Snickering a little, he wandered back over to his designated 'spot', and returning to… carving a little wooden figure?

"What is that?" Wandering up, I squatted in front of him, looking at the block of wood and kunai with curiosity. If you tilted your head sideways a bit it looked like a horse…

"It's a dog." Reddening, he turned away from my sceptical look. "I've never really seen a dog up close, so…"

"Well, it has… short face?" Gesturing with my hands, I once again cursed my tiny vocabulary. "And short legs and…" Helplessly, I pointed at the tail.

"The tail, Yukichi." Snorting a little, he hooked an elbow around my stomach, pulling me into a hug. And I relaxed for a moment – before the stench hit me. These were unaccompanied five year olds, after all. Bathing probably wasn't at the top of their to-do list.

Wrinkling my nose, I pulled away. "Smell." He burst into peals of laughter at my obstinate tone.

"Fine, fine, I'll take a bath." A small smile graced my lips, and I watched him inch out with an attempt at a praising look. Judging by his expression, it didn't work, although apparently it was amusing.

Only when he left did I curl up on a worn old sack, resisting the urge to cry – because that would be far too obvious. For some reason, it felt like I was replacing my old world – my friends, my family, with cheap copies. It felt so, so wrong, and my gut twisted just thinking about it.

Futilely, I gripped at my chest, as if it would ease the steadily growing ache there.

Over the next few weeks, I improved the base's general hygiene (their shocked looks, seeing me proudly scrub away the dirt that'd been there as long as they could remember), yelled at several members for trekking mud all over the floor, and scavenged – get this, some merchant's old coat.

Which was promptly turned into my and Toru's new bed and blanket combo.

Get this – after a few scrubs, dousing it in a liberal amount of perfume that I'd picked up in one of the surrounding alleyways, and then leaving out in the rain for a whole day, it didn't smell like fish and feet. In fact, compared to everything else, it smelled downright pleasant.

And in between all that, I had a somewhat profitable pickpocketing thing going on. Honestly, it had been going much better that I'd expected. In fact, I was only caught once, and that was by some middle-aged baker who really couldn't afford to leave his shop to chase me.

Although, sometimes, when I snuck away with my profits, I felt eyes on me - following me.

Needless to say, it was creepy as fuck.

However I dismissed it – if it was someone with malicious intent, there were many chances to kill me. And if it were someone competent, they'd overpower me in a second. (Ha. So much for all that karate practice a life ago, if you can't even give your attacker a convincing bruise.)

Now it was just time to make sure the base wouldn't collapse in on us while we slept.

"And then we add one more wood here-" gesturing to the corresponding spot in the air, I saw Hiro nodding along – although I'd clearly lost him long ago. "-then the roof not fall." Finishing my explanation with a flourish, I looked over at Hiro. Sure, I might not be a professional architect, but I'd done A-Level physics and maths. And it didn't take a genius to realise that roof was a genuine safety hazard.

So he agreed, as any sane person would.

Now, with the roof not threatening to cave in, I slept far more soundly – I'd long gotten used to the soundtrack of snoring kids. Days were spent nicking people's belongings, evenings with Toru or Yasu or one of the other few members, nights curled up in the warmth and comfort of home.

This was home now.

Sometimes I tried to remember my death (pain and death and blood, choking, smothering) which never went particularly well, or attempted to remember old faces. That only left me in sombre moods for days at a time, so generally I tried not to think about it too much.

That burned a little too, preventing myself from dwelling on them, but it was okay. This life was beautiful in its own way, and I might as well make the most of it.

Of course, my idyllic lifestyle had a nastier side to it.

Being barely a few years of age and far, far younger than most of the other orphans, of course Toru and Yasu tried to shield me from it. After all I was their 'innocent' little genius. Yet, when someone staggers in, bleeding and choking on their own blood – that is when you see the work of a truly vile ninja.

They knew that we couldn't treat it. They knew he was a (relatively) innocent orphan. They knew exactly how to make his death the most painful kind.

Even in death, his face was contorted into a hideous grimace.

From then on I started training in mornings, building up a little muscle mass. And soon Yasu and Toru joined in. And many of the other orphans followed them. Soon, I was practically leading a group exercise lesson, ingraining basic self-defence reflexes that I'd once read up on the internet, never expecting to ever use.

Casualties began falling, and I smiled a little more.

A single step – yet, that's how all journeys begin, right? (Well, this wouldn't be going very far, but even the short walk to the fridge could be quite enjoyable – and profitable.)

Another year, and our little group had grown into an organisation of 40 people.

My vocabulary and grammar had been filling up nicely, plus a few swear words thrown in there for a little bit of colour. And a schedule had been created – morning exercise, afternoon crime, and evening architecture.

It was another lazy afternoon – I'd filled my quota and felt no need to earn extra – that Toru approached me, looking delighted.

My eyes narrowed.

"What is it, Toru?" Slowly sitting up – for once, it wasn't chokingly foggy, so I had been enjoying the balmy sun – I attempted to ease the accusatory edge to my words. No doubt he'd signed me up to something stupid again.

"You got promoted!" Blinking slowly, I turned it over in my head.

"Promoted?" I wasn't even aware we had ranks – I just thought there was the leader, Hiro, then the grunts. Us.

"Yep. We're setting up a new council-thing, since so many people have been joining!" He puffed out his chest. "And I also got promoted!"

"Wait just a second." Quickly counting in my head, my eyes widened a little at the results. "I'm only five. You're at least seven. And Boss is around nine. Why the fuck did I get promoted?"

Snorting a little, Toru gestured at a few of the orphans playing cards in the corner. "Can't you see? They love you." As if to prove his point, one turned around and gave a sunny wave. "You're well known, after starting up that exercise thing in the morning." He deflated slightly. "If anything, I don't know why they promoted me."

Raising an eyebrow, I went back to enjoying the sun. "You hypocrite. Can't you see? You made literally all our furniture. We'd all be sitting in the mould if it weren't for you." Seemingly shocked for a moment, his smile was back in place in a moment's time.

"Yeah, I suppose I did." Rubbing the side of his head, he appeared to be remembering something. "Oh yeah – we have some kind of meeting… wait, we had one five minutes ago." Rolling my eyes, I followed, although not with a slight smile upon my face.

As it turned out, the 'meeting' was an in-depth description of recent orphan turf wars.

Like gang wars, but just scale down the people and replace guns with (equally dangerous) rusty kunai and bread knives. (I never even realised there were turf wars.)

"So, basically, the Fōgeru are to the north of the butcher place, the U~ēberu to the south of that same butcher's, and Sāmon to the east of Otomo's ninja shop." Trust Yasu to turn a half-hour speech a few lines. "And they all hate us, and the butcher guys are collaborating."

"And can I note we're called the fucking Kyabeji?" Like, whose genius idea was it to name us after cabbages?

Hiro's eyebrow twitched. "Sawao before me named it that." Our leader laced his fingers together, looking just about ready to break something. "He thought it'd be funny."

Snorting, Yasu leant back lazily. "Damn straight, it is funny." Looking at Hiro's silently fuming face, he changed up his words. "Well, not quite as much for us, but just appreciate the humour for a moment."

"Hey, hey, don't fight." Flapping a placating hand in front of Yasu's face, the corner of Toru's mouth had a little drool mark, hinting at how he'd listened to the sermon. "Okay, so, what are we supposed to be doing?"

"Paying protection money, of course." Quickly, I hid my spit-take. Considering this was Naruto, I'd been expecting some ridiculous 'keep fighting' reply – however, it was rather comforting to know other people had similar survival instincts to mine. "Previously, we were both beneath their notice and they were keeping each other in check, but since we became larger and the two largest groups combined their forces…"

"So, how much is it?" Personally, I didn't really want to give up my lazy afternoons, but if it came to that…

"10,000 ryo per month." Next to me, one of the other members (Nissho, I think his name was) made a slight whining noise.

It was unbelievable. On a good day, I could expect to make 200 ryo - and I was one of the group's best thieves. Plus, there were our own day-to-day costs of living.

Balmy afternoons were definitely out. And I'd probably be stealing during the evenings as well.

"So, you can see my dilemma." Sighing – Hiro really did take himself too seriously for a kid, but I suppose someone had to be the adult (and it wasn't going to be me) – he continued his now rather depressing news. "My proposal is that each of you will be the leader of a team of roughly 8." I took a moment to think about it, before nodding. "Of course, even if you disagree, you have no choice." An amused tilt slanted my lips upwards, and I distantly heard Yasu mutter something about Hiro and me being related.

"Toru, you'll deal with afternoon earning and organisation." Puffing his chest out, Toru looked rather pleased.

"Yasu-" the person named slumped a little, making vague noises about 'responsibility' and 'unfairness'. "-you'll be dealing with teaching new recruits, as well as afternoon earnings." At 'new recruits', he flinched a little, eyeing up the window speculatively. Of course, then he noticed the steel bars reinforcing it from the last time someone (ergo, he) tried that stunt.

"Nissho-" an almost unnoticeable sigh came from the boy sitting to my left. "-you'll be dealing with budgeting and morning earnings."

"Got it." It was the most unenthusiastic reply I'd ever heard.

"Yukichi-" I made a vague salute towards Hiro, "you'll be dealing solely with afternoon and evening earnings." Of course.

I badly wanted to tell him that I really did not want to do evening (flashing lights and the smell of blood and darkness) but we really did need the money – and besides, I needed to get over my fear of the dark. (I was at least in my mid to late twenties by now, and things like irrational fears weren't an option for orphans living on - or even below - the poverty line.)

Honestly, I could still remember Yasu's outright laughter and Toru's muffled snorts, from when they found out about it. Something as pathetic as the nightlife sending me shivering and running away with my tail between my legs.

"And Enno-" the final stranger straightened, a lazy smile on his lips, "-you'll be filling in for anyone who needs a boost or similar."

"Ah, okay." To be honest, he looked slightly stoned. Maybe he was. Honestly, I wouldn't put it past the dealers (who the ninja never bothered persecuting) to sell to a seven-year-old child.

"We'll be having another meeting-" Yasu audibly groaned, and Hiro gave him a quick kick. "-next week. Don't be late." Carefully, he stared at Toru and Yasu in turn, and they both gulped.

My team consisted of mainly older kids who could all handle themselves, making my job infinitesimally easier.

"-so, basically, I'd appreciate it if you didn't lie in how much you stole." After giving them a quick, Yasu-style rundown of the entire meeting, I figured they could go off and do their own thing. "'Cause we really do need the money, or else we'll all end up dead in the middle of the night."

A variety of murmurs, all some form of 'okay' and one 'if you say so, mother', and they all dispersed into the streets. Personally, I slunk to the side of a bar, intending to ambush some tired merchants or similar. Or maybe just camp out until they were all drunk and easy targets.

Sharply, my eyes snapped onto a rotund, mid-thirty, balding merchant - and he just gave away where he kept his money. (Slyly, a smirk curled around my lips.)

Keeping my body language natural, I started a slow jog, as if chasing after a friend, swerving out of his way right at the last second.

About 30 ryo richer too.

Ducking into another alley, I grinned, desperately trying to ignore the slowly sinking light levels and the neon lights that were beginning to flash from bar windows.

Briefly, I wondered when I'd stopped caring about all those people I was taking money from. Yet then I mentally shrugged, dismissing the issue, because money was money. Besides, it could be worse. If I were a ninja, those ryo wouldn't just be from innocent people's coffers, but their lives would be turned into mere sums of cash.

If you're not the worst… well, then. What's the problem?

It was just survival.

This continued for another few hours, by which time I'd made about 210 ryo. It depressed me a little to know that this was my life now, slinking around this rather more suspicious end of town at the dead of night every single day – yet, on the other hand, I really couldn't deny the adrenaline rush that came with it, plus the elevated earnings. There was the compulsive need for me to press my back against a wall at every opportunity that wasn't there during the day - but it was only a small vice.

It'd be fine.

Just about to wrap up, I quickly wrapped a bandanna over the bottom half of my face (even when they were sober, if they recognised me there would be a chase. It would only be worse if they were all drunk) and just about took a step out of my alley – before recognising an all-too-familiar face and ducking back inside.

Hoshigaki Kisame. (From the anime, I could remember him. Part of the Akatsuki, and could probably pulp me against the wall while blindfolded, with one hand.)

Pressing myself against the wall, behind a few bins, I attempted to regulate my breath, just about ready to run at a moment's notice.

And – thank Jashin or Kaguya or whatever other divine beings are out there – he passed without an incident.

This happened several more times, and every time I caught a whisper of his shark face wandering around, it was 'drop everything and hide', because sometimes I dreamed about dying of natural causes and, by hanging with Kisame, it would not be 'natural causes' killing me.

Although, I did find some rather interesting information about him in my mad dashes to freedom.

Firstly was that he was about two years older than I was. Only two.

This actually told me quite a lot. Naruto hadn't been born yet, and one of the things I refused to disturb was that fact. Because if Naruto wasn't born, then the world would be royally fucked, and I was not going to be the one saving it. Genuinely – I would be absolutely over the moon if I never met a jinchuuriki in my lifetime here.

Hopefully that'd be easy enough, considering I was an orphan all the way in Kiri.

Ha, this was the only time I was happy for the fact I was born far, far away from Konohagakure.

Next was the fact that I wanted absolutely nothing to do with canon. Even the slightest change could mess up the storyline, and I needed to know when to run. Orochimaru, the Akatsuki, Tobi, Madara – they were all well out of my league, and therefore I needed to know when to jump ship.

Meeting them was out of the question.

Secondly was that Kisame was actually the son of a civilian. And a ninja, of course, but it was another 'bastard child' situation. They seemed to be awfully common in Kiri – probably due to the size of the red light district. It took up an uncomfortably large portion of the city.

And on a completely unrelated third note, I'd found out that the Third Shinobi War was gearing up.

This made my position of an orphan in Kiri increasingly perilous, since we were essentially perfect cannon fodder. Through a few second-hand sources and rumours, I heard the Sāmon group - previously one of the biggest and best - had been nearly completely wiped out, reduced to ten members; all because of ninja recruitment.

That could happen to us.

(That could happen to me.)

At the next meeting, four weeks after the original one, Enno was given the task of keeping his ear to the ground to find where the ninja were recruiting next. Well, I say 'recruiting'. 'Kidnapping' is what I really mean – it's hardly as if you have a choice.

iii.

War was coming.

Well, war was always coming, however in this situation, it was war in everything but name.

All 'reserve' ninja (not that there were many, since most died before reaching that point) had been pulled out, patrolling borders in a show of strength. Every ninja was getting sent on random missions which just happened to be on Konoha's and Suna's borders. Training had been stepped up, and weapons shops had been inundated with ninja, fearing for their lives in upcoming fights.

And he knew for a fact that all the other major villages were assembling their own forces in preparation for imminent combat, stepping up their own patrols and pushing through new ninja as fast as humanly possible.

If nothing changed, at the rate things were progressing, Kiri would be crushed.

Certainly, every one of their ninja were highly skilled individually, however teamwork was a foreign concept and a single ninja would be crushed by two 4-man groups working together from Konoha. (Damn Konohan prodigies – there was so little use for quality ninja, when one of those guys were busy wiping out your forces, left, right and centre.)

Which is why he was handed the unfavourable task of kidnapping groups of orphans.

See, it was a brilliant setup. Those orphans knew and trusted each other, had no other prospects – and they were orphans. The perfect cannon fodder.

No one would know or miss them.

And it was to Kiri's advantage that, due to the unchecked (and rampant) growth of the red light district, there were many, many orphans. Hundreds, even. Thousands.

There was the tiniest bit of guilt as he manhandled a self-proclaimed 'leader' over to administration – he wasn't heartless, and the kid's age was probably still in the single figures – yet he really liked being alive, and if he purposely failed this mission then his next stop would be T+I.

Sometimes he really cursed the fact Kiri was on an island, making escape a few hundred times harder.

Otherwise he would have long been gone before it came to destroying kid's lives.

"Yukichi, please help me!" Raised eyebrow already in place, I turned to face Yasu. "There's a bunch of new recruits, and they say I'm not trustworthy!"

I took a moment to massage my temples. "Sure, sure, whatever." Taking a quick look at the sun, I then added: "This better not take longer than half an hour." Following Yasu through the throngs of people, we finally stopped at a group of around 5 children, ranging from about four to nine - all giving Yasu the stink eye.

"Yasu, what did you do?" Next to me, the aforementioned person shyly rubbed the back of his neck.

"Well," drawing out every syllable, he carefully avoided eye contact. "I might have pranked them."

Giving him a hard kick to the shin ("I thought we were friends, Yukichi!") I addressed the crowd of people myself. "Okay, so, Yasu's an idiot. But he is trustworthy, and a good teacher." Just as I was about turn and declare that I had nothing more to do with them, one of them piped up.

"Still, can we ask you a few questions?" Taking a quick note of the time, I gave a hesitant nod.

"You have ten minutes." This seemingly comforted them. What prank, exactly, had Yasu pulled?

"So, what schedule is there?" A freckled one at the front called out, and I took no small enjoyment in being superior to them. (I could see why Yasu might actually enjoy this, even if the cons vastly outweighed the pros.)

"None." After thinking for a moment, I amended my answer. "You can make one for yourself though."

"Are there like superiors, or something?" Another one shouted out, giving Yasu a suspicious look. So the idiot had told them that he was a manager or some shit right after pranking them. How, exactly, did he get promoted?

"Yep. Obviously Hiro's the boss, but I, Yasu, Toru, Nissho and Enno are group leaders." All the looks persisted, although they were slightly less accusatory.

"What's your name?"

"Yukichi."

"You look like one of those Hozuki bastards." Giving the person who said that a quick glare, I then rethought it. They were orphans, after all. It was unlikely they'd be instructed in basic etiquette.

"There's lots of half- and quarter- blood children around the place." That person who'd unthinkingly asked that started shrinking in on himself, weighed down by the combined glowers of every bastard child in the vicinity. "It's considered good manners not to mention it."

"Got it." Mumbling abashedly, they then stood straight again. "Why are there so few girls?"

Well, that was unexpected. "Well, most get snatched up by the okiya when they're young."

"Oh." It was in a small mumble. Did he have a sister or something? Well, he'd better get over her, since if she was in an okiya it'd be damn hard to locate her. And I certainly would not be going to all that trouble.

Then I looked at the sun, and immediately tensed. "Okay, question time over. I need to go." Racing out the door (it'd been handcrafted by Toru, and was much heavier than it looked, and thus was propped open during the days) I was a streak across the streets, ducking and diving around merchants and fishermen alike.

"Hey, you!" Skidding to a slightly slower pace, I looked back to see who called.

Then began running again, twice as fast.

Hoshigaki Kisame.

Unfortunately, it was just my luck that due to the nature of my line of work, I had little stamina. For us, we'd just run as fast as we could and lose the pursuing person, at which point they'd (hopefully) give up.

Besides, I was already tired from being late (fucking dammit, Yasu) and racing around other people's property.

So, of course, it was just my luck that Kisame was not giving up.

Taking deep, gulping breaths, I attempted to stay silent as he prowled around my little alley. (Don't move, don't breathe, don't touch anything.)

Shifting slightly forwards, in preparation for my dash to freedom, I moved my foot slightly backwards-

BANG.

Unthinkingly, I'd pushed over one of the bins with the heel of my foot, creating a domino of bins falling over, which in turn meant a ton of wood balanced on the last bin hitting the ground, which had glass bottles on them - which all shattered.

Fuck.

Sprinting out – I was just about onto the street, where I could reach the fence behind the grocers-

-and then a hand gripped my collar, which I responded instantly with a punch to the face.

"Damn!" Taking a brief moment to wince in sympathy, I renewed my efforts to remove the hand on my clothes. "What the fuck, brat?" At that, he bared his teeth (sharpened to razor points, and reflexively I flinched away) "I want to talk, not bite your fucking head off."

"We've talked." Huh, wonder how well giving him a kick in the stomach would go? Unfortunately, Kisame seemingly picked up on my intent as he carefully kept me at a full arm's distance – which, to my annoyance, was just long enough to avoid getting kicked. "Now let me go."

"And why should I?" My eyebrow twitched. Why, exactly, did fangirls in my old life find him attractive? "So, why do you always hide from me?"

"Isn't the fact that you're a shark hybrid enough?" Distractedly I answered his question, absorbed in trying to pry his hands off of me.

"Don't lie to me." Voice suddenly icy, I looked up at him with apprehension in my eyes. If this turned to the worse, I was not above socking him in the face again. "So why do you hide?"

"I want nothing to do with you." Technically the truth. "So let me go, or else this won't be pretty."

"For you, mainly." Snorting slightly, he shoved me away from him. Any semblance of niceties had abandoned him, twisted by the lies and deceit and poison that Kiri was made of. "Well? Run."

Giving him a sardonic smile, I saluted him on the way out. "Will do, sir." Reaching the end of the alley, I turned around one more time. "Have a lovely day!" Then I was over the fence, and wondering how to get to my group's meeting point without running into Kisame again.

Everything in Kiri – no, the Naruto world – is toxic.

Over time, you become used to it – like building up an immunity – until you look back and wonder where all your morals went.

Oh, it wasn't a sudden thing.

Not by any means.

It was a slow, slow thing, spreading through all your veins, until you've lost yourself and didn't even notice.

It had been a day of fairly successful pickings again – although, quite worryingly, the percentage of ninja was way up and still rising, which didn't bode well for anyone. Vaulting over a fence to arrive by the back entrance to our (rather renovated) base, immediately I took note of the sombre mood, and quickly made my way to…

My blood ran cold.

Where the fuck was Yasu?

Gently coming up behind me, Toru gave me a gentle hug. "About three-quarters of our members have been taken. The ninja went the opposite way to what we were expecting, and nearly all of them were caught." Inhaling deeply, there was suddenly a very slightly damp spot on my shoulder. "Including Hiro-" my own breath caught for a moment, "and… Yasu."

Of course it wouldn't last.

It'd never last.

I joined the large group of people collected in the middle, whispering quietly to each other. Uncertainty was in everyone's faces, and my own cheeks felt a little damp.

The sensation was distant – my skin not my skin, and a pit of absence in the centre of my chest ate at me. (Where everything was too much to handle all at once, and so I went numb – numb as death itself.) Just like when I'd been reborn, my actions didn't feel fully my own.

(Apathy choked off my words.)

In my old life, I'd been relatively sheltered. In fact, the only person I remembered dying was my old grandmother – who had Alzheimer's disease and didn't recognise me anyway. Yet, I still could recall the sobriety as everyone cried and reminisced about their childhoods.

I pitied the dead.

Up there, in the nothingness, as it was just you versus infinity.

Pushing down giggles (someday I was going to re-join them, and for some reason that seemed utterly hilarious) – and wasn't that a sure sign of sanity – I looked over at Toru, who sat morosely by himself, wiping away a few stray tears. Quietly, I scooted over, despite the feeling that every movement ran the risk of snapping the palpable tension and grief in the room.

And, for quite a while, we sat next to each other.

(They weren't even dead – but being orphans taken by Kiri on the brink of war, they might as well have been.)

"I wasn't good enough." It was the slightest whisper, however my eyes immediately darted over the child next to me - an actual kid, and not just an adult wearing the skin of one.

I was the adult here. (I was a lawyer, I had a degree – I wasn't allowed to be one of the lost children here.)

"What were you supposed to do?" Perhaps, to a third party, my words might seem harsh. And, to my old world, it would definitely be kicking the puppy. But no-one could mistake the slight crack at the end of my voice – and Toru had certainly picked up on that.

"I don't know, just, something…" Wiping a hand over his eyes, his words were coming out as hoarse croaks. "I try so hard, yet I'm so weak. You're two years younger, yet so much smarter." It was jealousy bleeding into his tone now.

"You know," my voice was coming out deceptively calm. "my mother here, she dumped me. I wasn't good enough either. No one is ever good enough." A cool smile twisted my lips, as I remembered Taylor – on top of the world, having just finished his degree. Nothing could knock him down – oh, until he was. "There will always be people smarter, faster, stronger-" my breath caught for a moment, remembering a moment just seconds before… something.

Then death. It was more fleshed-out now, the cold press of tarmac under my cheek as excruciating pain blossomed like fire, fire in my veins, as I succumbed to darkness.

To which I'd never wake.

"Yukichi?" Now his voice was tentative, picking up on the harshness of my breath, the dilation of my pupils, the shake of my hands.

My head snapped up, face in the mockery of a smile. "What I'm trying to say is that you're amazing in your own way. And you work so hard, so…" a genuine smile then spread across my lips. Toru was so much more motivated than I'd ever been. "There was nothing anyone could've done. They're ninja. Unbeatable."

Standing, I gave a final grin – he was clearly deep in his thoughts – before taking a deep, relaxing breath.

That scene was no longer me.

If I distance myself, then perhaps I'll lose something – but do I really want that 'something'? If that's what comes with it, well – I'd be better off without. (Better off forgiving, because a law degree means precisely shit here. Not when the blade of a kunai serves the job of judge rather than a courtroom.)

Now feeling slightly calmer – my eyes were still filled with unshed tears, however at least they were no longer spilling over – I took it upon myself to steal some of Toru's wood carving tools and scratching the symbol for 'death' into one of the door planks.

Personally, I thought it was quite fitting for the predicament Hiro and Yasu had found themselves in.

"It means death." Inwardly, I winced – my voice grated on my own nerves, that's how raspy it was. "So." A few more heads turned towards my more commanding tone. (Or, at least as demanding as a six-going-on-seven year old can sound). "Who's going to be boss now?"

"Not me." Immediately scooting backwards, Toru instantly disqualified himself. I allowed myself a small smile – he looked so terrified at the idea of being top dog, it was funny. Although, it did also clearly hint at a few of those lingering self-confidence problems. Well, not just hinted – it was more like screaming it from the rooftops.

One of the more recent members – Kato, probably - spoke up. "But Toru, you've been here the longest, after… Hiro." Their lost friend's name was forced through gritted teeth. "And Yasu is gone as well."

"If he doesn't want to be leader, don't force him." Nissho's level-headed words went over the top of the wild murmurs that had broken out, dealing a decisive ruling. "Besides, Toru's too indecisive." Shyly rubbing the back of his head, Toru said nothing to refute that. I didn't say anything either – we both knew it was true. "Personally, I think Yukichi would make a good leader."

Suddenly spluttering, I began shaking my head. Who the hell would listen to a six year old, anyway? You'd have to be insane to be considering me a good leader. "Me? I've only been here for three years. I'm hardly suitable."

"After myself, you're the most rational." Reasoned Nissho, a tone of urgency in his voice. "And you're better at talking to people, as well as better at fighting."

Well, those were all valid points, but still… that'd be like saying a nine year old could be a University professor. It didn't matter how smart they were – it's simply the fact no one would take that nine year old seriously.

"Now you say that…"Wistfully, Toru looked at the ceiling, and I scowled. Traitor. "I'd listen to you as a leader, Yukichi. I mean, sometimes you're kind of lazy – well, all the time, after you've got your quota - and a clean freak, plus sometimes pretty damn blunt, but I still trust you to lead us."

"A clean freak…" Seriously, I wasn't that bad! Well, maybe I was, but this place was disgusting. It needed a clean. "Still, Nissho-"

"-doesn't have the same reputation with the other members as you do." Quickly, Toru put his hands up in mock surrender as my glare landed upon him. "He's the definition of antisocial. Face it Yukichi, you've lost."

For a moment, I assessed the crowd of people in front of me. They genuinely believed in me – thought I could lead them. (After all, I was the adult here.) Really, I should've expected this – that they'd naturally gravitate towards the person who had the most life experience, who was most self-assured, even if they were physically younger.

"Fine." The – my - whole group burst into low murmurs, seemingly having held their collective breath as their higher-ups debated. "But for that clean freak comment, Toru, you're getting first watch – see if there's any other orphans prowling around, still trying to push the turf war business." A bittersweet smile accompanied some vague shooing motions. "It's late enough. We're all going to sleep now."

God, being a leader sucked. No wonder Hiro had always looked like he had a foot-long pole up his arse.

Firstly was the matter of organising everyone. Them being kids, none of them wanted to listen to anything and kept running around like headless chickens.

Yeah.

Like that's going to work so well.

After a few screaming sprees at stupid five-year-olds (well, perhaps I'm holding the bar high – but still!) there was finally some sort of order, which led me onto the next problem. (There was a whole list of issues, and if you wrote them all out, it'd probably be as long as me.)

How to avoid ninja recruiters.

"So, they're going anticlockwise, and we've isolated the specific areas." Nissho – bless him – had painstakingly recorded where orphans were getting kidnapped, sharing results with the other orphan groups in the area, and we finally might have found a pattern. "So we just stay around 3 areas behind or ahead, and the risk drops significantly."

"We should all still be on guard though." It's when people felt complacent – that's when they got sloppy. "So, yeah. Go tell that to your groups or whatever."

Snorting slightly, Toru gave me one, last nostalgic smile. "Never thought you'd be a boss, though it seems to fit you quite well." A slight flush came to my cheeks, and I embarrassedly waved it away. "I mean it."

"S-shush, or, um…" By now, I was positive I was bright red. Get it together, you must be thirty or something by now! "I... yeah. Thanks."

Despite all the death, and fear, and uncertainty, I was more at home here than I ever was in my first life.

Another lazy day at the base, and I was busy… well, doing nothing, essentially.

Quite a rarity, considering that to these children every single instruction needed to be explained out, or else something would be set on fire - and I was going to make full use of it. Therefore, like the intrinsically lazy person that I was, I had been doing just that – until I saw Nissho, looking like he'd just dragged himself through a bog and was being chased by several large bears.

My lazy morning was well and truly over.

"What's wrong, Nissho?" Distractedly, I looked over his wounds, fumbling for that handy tub of antiseptic cream that I liked to carry around with me, and robbed off that merchant every time she came around, for situations just like this. "Where's the rest of your team… oh." Quite quickly, I caught his drift.

Fuck.

"You think they'll be following you?" If there were ninja, they could be following – a small possibility, but one nonetheless. Wasn't that how the U~ēberu was essentially wiped out – one member being chased and giving away their base?

"Yes." For a brief second, I stiffened in horror – before returning to applying cream, a little more quickly than before. "I kicked one of them in the back of their knees, and they'll be interested after that."

Well then.

What can you do, really?

Wasn't it just my luck, being born into Kiri of all places? Surely there was an infinitely larger civilian population to get reincarnated into to? (Internally, I shook myself. No need to dwell on what-ifs.)

"We'll relocate bases then." My head was back up, already thinking of all the possible places we could go to. Obviously, this one and the old one were out, plus the U~ēberu's past hideout since that'd been found just a few months ago. Maybe the Sāmon? "And you won't be going out getting money or food for a few weeks at the very least."

"And that would be a great plan, if you got to do it." All the air seemed to vacate my lungs, and I found it intensely hard to breathe as I turned around.

Two ninja, both far stronger than all of us orphans put together.

Holding Toru.

Distantly, I recognised I was shaking – but it was a foreign thing (not me, because I could feel myself going numb) and I had more pressing things to think about.

"Your little subordinates said you two, plus this guy, were leaders-" Hah, it was fairly obvious that you stalked Nissho. Big brave ninja, reduced to chasing pickpockets around the back end of the slums. "-so we'll be taking you."

Despite my impending ninja career, despite the fact that my life expectancy was just cut (again), despite the fact that it was likely I was running straight towards the sun with no brakes or steering wheel-

-I couldn't quite help but laugh.

Is this what fangirls wanted?

To be born into a broken home, dumped on the streets, being promoted to the boss of a gang of robbers – only to be kidnapped and be sent to my now looming demise. Hilarious, really.

Only now, it seems to have all caught up with me.

Though, despite all that, I would still prefer this over the 'nothing at all' of Death. How low my expectations had fallen.

Distantly, I noticed the edges of my vision darken as my breathing was coming too shallow, too fast, too sharp in my lungs, like glass – like the air shouldn't be there, like I'd left my body and mind somewhere in the pits of death, like the person they'd all been speaking to was simply a husk of something long gone.

(There was a hand on my back, pushing me forwards without an inch of compassion – and it might as well have been the reaper's blade urging me on, closer towards the abyss.)

I take it all back. I wanted that 'something' back, because forgetting it didn't seem to be turning out too well.

Isn't it funny?

You finally think you found freedom – but you didn't, because it never existed in the first place.

It's an endless cycle, and you can't break out.

(new a/n as of 05/03/2017)

Wow, this has been abandoned for a while.

I've given it another facelift, so it flows better/fits my current writing style better, and chapter 2 is on the way! I had a massive struggle trying to pin down Yukichi's character in my mind, but I think I have it now.

(old a/n as of some time in the past)

Sorry about the sheer number of OCs – but then again, this is an SI-OC in Kiri. In the 3rd Shinobi War. Both of those things mean extra OCs – although I will try to sneak in canon characters as much as possible.

This has been sitting in my computer for… a few months? I started this around the same time as 'Recondite', so this whole thing has been given a facelift. Sorry if my old writing style (before I got any practice in) bleeds into the (many) edits I made.

Note: I always reply to reviews in the next chapter, at the bottom.

If possible, I would advise against trying to review through PM's – it's already way too full as it is, since I'm admittedly something of a hoarder and can never bear to delete any of them.

This same thing also applies to tabs. My high score is 72 tabs, by which time my laptop was suffering.

#savethelaptop2k16

Tsukanama clan – thank you to the lovely reviewer AnnKotz to adding to my (near non-existent) knowledge of actual Japanese (and not just the weeaboo stuff that I occasionally use to be sarcastic.)

Tsukareru nama

疲生

Their little gang-thing is spelt with the alternative (and pretty much obsolete) spelling of cabbage.

Kyabeji

キャベジ

THIS FIC IS TO IMPROVE MY WRITING.

Therefore, I am completely open to all criticism.

(Obviously, if you just say 'ur fic suks' then I won't be too impressed – but I really do need advice to continually develop my writing skills.)

Any suggestions for future chapters are also welcome! I really can't say how many I'd act on (and I'm directly against unrealistic things, like 'he should become bffs with kakashi') but I would definitely hear them out.

Also, please note this fic has no regular updates.

So, I hope my fanfiction didn't disgust you so utterly you had to scroll down here to complain about it, and:

Please

Press

The

Button

And

Leave

Review!

Thank you!

-rosinban