Hi. I don't know you. I'm. . . Sorry about that. It's impolite of me, really. I should know your name without you even telling me. If I can't, then you're obviously not important. At least, that's how my brother thinks it should be. My dear elder sibling is really rather rude. That's okay. It's not his fault that he never learned manners. Truly, it's a testament to the sparkling upbringing we share. We've the best family. They've taught us the value in silence, in holding in, in containing the rage building up within us. Why, without their training, we'd have died already!

. . . Ah, I'm sorry.

I haven't introduced myself yet.

My name is Hyuuga Nami, and this is my story. Not the blond baka, or the Uchiha siblings. Rather, it's the tale of a little girl born into the confines of slavery, meant to exist in solitude, to fade in the background as a piece to be played. To watch her brother suffer and die for those deemed more worthy. To do the same when the call came for her own self.

And it's about her effort to make a change. To make a wave that could not be ignored.

My arrival was not celebrated. Father didn't want another child that wasn't his to keep. Mother couldn't stand against the pressure of the Main family and keep a sound mind, too. My brother was still a slobbering mess, genius though he may be. Honestly, the only one who welcomed me was myself. I tore through my mother's placenta, barely formed nails scrapping against its confines and body twisting agonizingly. Mother was just as difficult, squeezing hard enough that I felt I might burst.

I came out screaming.

I try to be fearless, but in that moment, fear crippled me. My eyes, all-seeing though they would later become, saw only blurry shapes with globs of color attached on. I may as well have been deaf for all that I understood of the gibberish surrounding me. Passed from one giant's hands to another, nothing stayed constant.

Stomach twisting in turmoil, I coughed up blood. Someone wiped my mouth clean and pried a bottle through my lips, at which point my body took over and started sucking mindlessly.

I was set down soon, into a barred cradle.

Later, I'd be told that Mother had died. Childbirth, they would whisper, eyes darting my way.

I didn't blame them for their judgement.

I had killed her, after all.

Much though I expect she would have died anyway, considering how she never popped up in cannon, in my story, it was my wildness that killed her.

I understood that; accepted it, even. While Father might gain a somber look within his eyes, at night, my brother's would glint with, and he'd elbow me playfully.

"Cheer up, Nami!"

And then he'd regel me with tales of the samurai, and the honor they took with them to death.