A/N: And hello to you all again, from Sasayaku. This story, originally called Entwined Fates, had sadly been deleted by someone who she hates with a passion. I've made a few corrections here and there, added bits and bobs of scenes someplaces that I don't remember, proofread better than before. So this should be an improved version.

I hope you enjoy this, and I'm so sorry for the long delay in getting everything back up.

If any of my old readers still wants to continue reading, look for a story called Iro de la Vie, come April. It will be the "sequel' continuing from the beginning of the Exams, capishe?

Okay, that's done and over with. To my new readers, welcome! To old dudes, welcome back! I hope you like this improved version better, since I've cleared up some strange spots.

Disclaimer: I don't in any way own Naruto. It's not that hard, okay? 1. I'm not rich. 2. I'm no plot weaver. 3. You'd be pretty stupid if you really do think Naruto belongs to me.

Chapter 1: Just a Normal Kid, Okay?

The short man screamed again in pain, though upon closer inspection, there were no visible wounds of any kind on his body. He was a pudgy person, with short fingers and a tubby body. His fingernails dug into the palm of his hand, and drew blood, which ran down sluggishly down his arm. On his forehead was a ninja hitai-ate, marked by the sign of the Cloud.

His eyes were wide open, seeing a terror unseen by anyone save him, while his breathing was quick and harsh. "No," he said quietly, his voice a croak in his throat. "No more, I'll talk, just-" He coughed, spitting blood. "Please stop this."

"Then start talking." Another voice said above his writhing body. It seemed to have come from a man, who was wearing dark robes with the collar pulled high around his face, hiding his facial features from view. A pair of cold, blood red eyes, with a connected tomoe as the pupils in the middle, peered out from behind the high collar. The tomoe faded almost immediately after he finished talking.

The shorter man glared up, with pure venom in his small, watery brown eyes; he was crying in anger. Standing above him, not moving an inch, the dark-haired man looked down at his victim with emotionless red eyes. The tomoe began forming again.

"No!" He screamed, covering his eyes in fear. "I'll talk! I'll talk! Please don't!"

The tomoe faded again. A photograph was shoved roughly before the man's screwed face. It looked to be a family portrait, with the mother sitting in the middle, a small smile on her face, and the father standing behind her with his hands on the back of her chair. Two boys stood around them. The older one stood to the right of his mother, with his hitai-ate askew and a severe expression on his face. The other younger boy, his black eyes large and smiling, stood in the middle, one arm draped around both his older brother and his mother.

"Tell me," the dark-haired man said quietly, his voice as cold as his red eyes. "Have you seen her before? A girl who looks like the younger boy on this picture?"

The pudgy man glanced briefly at the picture, and then looked down with a sullen "no."

He was dragged up roughly by his collar, and slammed into wall behind him. His tormentor punched him calmly in the face. The man gagged, and spat out a mouthful of blood with a fallen tooth. "Don't you dare lie to me," his tormentor's voice whispered in his ear, dangerously soft. "You're one of the only Jounins who are still alive from thirteen years ago. You even participated in that mission. You know where she is." He shook the man. "Now hurry up and tell me!"

A second later, the dark-haired man jumped away in alarm, for a kunai was sticking out of the Cloud ninja's hand, and would have gutted him if he was a bit late. "Fuck you!" The Cloud ninja screamed, and tried to tackle the red-eyed man. Faster than the eye could see, the man had twisted around the ninja, and pressed a purpled-painted finger down on his pressure point. He was too late, however. When the ninja collapsed on the ground face up, he was clearly dying. The kunai that he attacked the dark-haired man with was sticking in his own body.

The red-eyed man cursed quietly. "I've blown another chance, haven't I?" He said, more to himself than to the dying Cloud ninja.

The Cloud ninja giggled, his voice dying in a croak. A bubble of blood burst on his lips. "Yeah dude, you sure did."

Dark…so dark…I can barely see anything beyond five meters away…How much I would love it to just…drop the person on my back…lie down…and rest…

The problem is…I can't…I simply can't.

To stop, means certain death, from the one I respect, the one I admire the most in the whole world. Also, the one that I'm most afraid of…Death, for me… and the one I carry.

I can't let that happen…I have to go on…I have to get us both…away from…him.

I can feel the blood dripping off my body, running from my head…down my face. So much blood…mostly mine, but his as well…

My forehead protector is falling…and I can't do anything to about it…I smile…funny thing, it is, how I can think about that in a situation like this.

I…have no more chakra left. IF he catches up, which will be soon, I can't do anything to fight him, to protect us from him…

I'm at the end of my limit…every step is a burden.

I can't go on much longer…

But I must…

I must go on…

"Ohayou, nee-chan!"

"God! Get off me, you idiot!"

Thrashing around always works. As I lashed about, my baby brother Yukio finally climbed off my stomach, where he had been sitting just seconds before. Geez, I can't believe that I actually stayed asleep during all the time Yuki sat on me. I'm usually a light sleeper, waking up at any slight disturbances. It's probably that weird dream…

Meanwhile, Yuki went straight for the door, the quickest means of escape, from my wrath, which possibly includes flying objects. He grinned at me, eyebrows bouncing up and down like a tennis ball. Feh, typical Yuki. I'll never be able to do the eyebrows trick, though.

He should thank the gods that I'm not feeling wide awake enough yet…

"What the hell are you doing in my room? How did you get in my room? And haven't I told you a million times before not to sit on me and wake me up so early? How come you never remember anything that I tell you, Yuki?"

"Amazing, nee-chan. You can yell that loud at 6:30 in the morning. That exceeds even my expectations." Yuki's smile grew wider. "And speaking of remembering things, you should talk, seeing how you've forgotten what today is…"

I glared at him sourly. "Stop talking in riddles, Yuki. You better have a good reason for waking me up at 6:30, or else…" I cracked my knuckles ominously.

He ignored my threats, peeled my calendar off the wall, and walked over to my bed.

Today is…September 3rd, which means…

"Oh no! It's the first day of school! Why didn't you just tell me…?"

"You wouldn't have believed me even if I did tell you, nee-chan."

That's true… "But still…Geez, I hate school."

"Come on, nee-chan. Look at school as a good thing. At least you'll get to see Fujita-san everyday." He stepped out of my room just as my hairbrush hit the door with a loud thwack.

"Stupid brat." I muttered to myself as I got out of bed. Picking up the brush, I inspected it slightly. At least my hairbrush wasn't damaged, even if it didn't hit right on target.

I stepped inside the bathroom, and got cleaned up for the school day. As I brushed my mid-back length hair, I examined my reflection in the large, spotless mirror. Geez, I still looked exactly the same as I did when summer vacation started. Not an inch different, except a few locks of sun-streaked hair here and there.

People look at our family, and the first thing they always wonder about is the fact that none of our family members look alike.

There's absolutely no resemblance between anyone in our family. Nada. Zero. Niente. In other words, it's pretty much clear at first glance that Mom, Dad, Yukio, and me are definitely not related to each other.

Which we are not.

One thing must be made clear: Yukio and I are not blood-related siblings. We have no blood relationship to our parents either.

Yuki and I were both adopted when we're no more than a few months old. And our parents? They never made any effort as far as we know to even bother hiding the fact that we were adopted.

It seemed as long as we remembered, Yuki and I knew, that our "parents" aren't really our parents at all. I don't know if they always told us ever since we were babies that our real parents were not known, or if they just came up to us one while we were playacting Card-captors, and said, "Oh, by the way, you two aren't our real kids at all. You're just some brats that people ditched because you're just not worth being taken care of."

Not that I really care that much. I mean; the only kids our parents had ever had were Yuki and I. They aren't the best parents, I know, but still better than most. Just like the parents that everybody else had, except they give Yuki and I a hell lot more freedom than others do. We can practically do whatever we liked.

So I'm really not that bitter about the whole ditching thing. If my real parents brought me up, they probably would be like all the parents out there in Japan: controlling, demanding, extremely high standards, and rules so strict I'd rather not think about it. And I will just turn into another of those mindless study zombies out there.

Basically I'm kind of pleased about the fact that I'm adopted. One reason is because of my totally cool, hands-off parents. The other? Two words.

Shimoto Yukio, my little brother.

I love my adoptive family. How can I not? Nevertheless, like any other adopted child, I've wondered about what my real parents were like, and what kinds of a family we would have been. But my little fantasy always broke down quickly when I got to the part where Yuki wouldn't be part of my family.

Even though I call him brat, idiot, and all kinds of rude names, Yuki is probably the person I care about the most in the Shimoto household, maybe even in the whole world. I can't believe this, but Yuki is probably the best little brother anyone could ever have.

He's about a year younger than me, and one of the weirdest people I've ever met. Eccentric, random, insanely intelligent, all of those words only describe a tiny portion of who Yuki really is. He's one of the only people who can get me to calm down when I get mad. A really nice guy, he can always get anyone to feel better when they are sad or depressed. He also likes to tease people and play tricks all the time. But no one can ever get really angry with him. He's just that kind of person.

Wait, where was I before I started about my annoying little brother?

Oh yeah, the extreme differences in our family's looks.

There really is nothing much special about Mom and Dad's looks, since they look like the rest of the regular, middle-class people in Kyoto. Brown-black hair, dark brown eyes, short mom, dad a little taller, parents are both reed thin. Nothing makes them stand out in a crowd.

Yuki and me? We are a completely different story.

All right. The fact is I don't really stand out quickly in a crowd either. It all owes to my height. I've already turned 13 years old (according to parents, I actually have no idea when my real birthday is), and still not that much taller than four foot ten. It gets even more maddening when I consider that Yuki is already five foot three and still growing. The older sister is shorter than the younger brother…

However, it really doesn't take long for people to start staring at me. Almost every single day, people, especially those snobby girls at school, tell me to brush my hair. See, it's long, messy, and sticks out in the back. Nothing I do would help. And if that's not enough, it's so dark that it's almost blue.

The snobs always thought I was a punk rocker and dyed my hair.

Idiots.

They get even more freaked out when they see my face.

Let's see, what would people think when they see a girl with skin too pale to be an Asian, blue-black hair, and weird eyes that change color all the time?

Even I have to admit it myself, my eyes really are somewhat strange. Most Asians have dark brown eyes, no matter what anyone says. But my eyes are pitch black. I've stood in front of the mirror for hours at a time, looking at my eye color. And well, I could barely separate the pupil from the iris.

Despite that, it's still not the weirdest part.

My eyes change color.

It usually goes to a dark green, whenever I'm scared or angry. Freaky, huh?

And lately, it seems like I could see much more clearly than before. It's like I can predict people's movements.

It sounds impossible.

But it's true. It was almost as if I have the power to see the future or something along those lines. Creepiness.

What's more, I'm always right.

If people think I look a little weird, just wait till they see Yuki.

"Yukio" is an appropriate name for my brother. Every bit of his appearance tells people that he's not very mortal like, and that he's a "snow-boy".

I remembered the first time I've seen a picture of an albino person. It was in fourth grade, science class. Chiharu-sensei was teaching us about mutation in genetics, the natural kinds. Not like the fugusha who live in the slums of Kyoto after World War II.

"That's not an albino." I remember saying. "That looks like Yuki, and he's definitely not an albino. Albinos all have white hair, chalk-white skin, and red eyes that make them look like a rabid dog."

Chiharu-sensei had pursed her lips in a very disapproving way and sent me out of class for "rude disturbance," while the rest of the class howled with laughter. As I found out later, her sending me out of class probably had to do with the fact that she had an albino sister who, unfortunately, died early.

Anyhow, Yuki does look like an albino. Or should I say, quite a bit like Killua from Hunterxhunter. He has a thatch of short, messy white hair, and skin even paler than mine. However, his eyes look nothing like an albino's. While mine are dark, his were light. It's easy to predict his moods and emotions since his eyes change in every shade of blue possible with all the different feelings.

Yuki is called a freak even more than I am.

That's mainly why I hate going to school. Yuki and I have a really hard time there. Who wouldn't, if they were like us? With appearances like ours, it's practically an invitation for people to make fun of us.

It's a little better for me since I've taken kendo, the sword arts, ever since I was young, at the local dojo. True, I'm not the best at fighting, and I really don't like it that much, but it's enough to defend myself from any major humiliations from my classmates.

I feel sorry for Yuki, though. He hates fighting, would never lift a finger to protect himself, and therefore, has a much harder time than I do. He's the one who's usually beaten up in school. I can't even remember the number of times he came back from school with multiple bruises and sporting black eyes. At least he heals faster than most, or else I'd be really mad, and some more kids would be coming home with injuries every night.

Starting this year, he's going to the same middle school as I am. Hopefully, he won't be as badly injured as he was before, when we went to different schools. I might be able to help him out a little…

But that dream from last night right before Yuki woke me up, it has seemed so real. It's like I've actually lived straight through the whole event.

Even now, I can still feel the same terror and dread as I did when I fled. From whom was I fleeing from though?

The metallic, salty taste of blood still on my tongue. Knowing the fact that whoever had hurt us was someone that I had always loved, cared about, respected. That's a creepy thought.

I shivered involuntarily. I really should stop daydreaming. A few more minutes, and Yuki will probably be hollering at me to get out of the bathroom.

Besides, I'm not some kind of prophet. So obviously, I can't be predicting the future through dreams or premonitions or whatever…

And I really need to find my school uniform too. Where the hell did I put it last?

Shoot! I'm going to be late!