Title: Fire Rebirth
Summary: Obligations, expectations, all made heavier by a young village standing on shaky legs. The gigantic construct that is the Clan is greater than I, and failure is not an option. I am headed for greatness - provided the world doesn't come crashing down on me before I get there. /OC Self-Insert, slightly AU
Author's Notes: Nothing special. Enjoy!
Update 7/4/13: Fixed some embarrassing typos.
Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto. Obviously.
Chapter 2 - Promises
"Kasai."
I perked, looking up from my writing practice. "Yes?"
My father was looming over me. He was a really tall figure, and his wild mane served to make him even more fierce. Rather incredible, Really. I always thought that he kept it that long to mock his enemies. 'Look at me, I'm a so far above you that I can keep my hair long, I'm out of your reach anyway.' I briefly wondered if he'd ever cut it should he lose, but that was doubtful.
"Come see me when you're done."
I nodded obediently, waiting for instructions where to look for him. When they didn't come I glanced up at him expectantly only to find that he was gone.
Simple tests like these came up every once in a while. I had learned that my clan - when I had started referring to the Uchiha as my clan I didn't know - was merciless in drilling its children. It was understandable, really. We came straight out of a war period with high child mortality, so the next generation had to grow up fast or get killed, at least that mentality still lingered and probably wouldn't go away for a while.
That didn't mean it was easy for me. I had been rather lazy in my past life, and it took me a good six months to get used to such a full schedule. I ended up incredibly winded every day, with aching legs and eyes so heavy I almost fell asleep during dinner more than once. When I wasn't practicing taijutsu, reading or writing, I was out with a few other Uchiha children to practice chakra control. Very simple exercises, not very difficult and made to make an early beginning easier. They wouldn't help older children at all because they were already so far above my level, but they helped children about my age to get a first grip on their control. I was already fairly good at it because my sensing abilities gave me a nice advantage.
I was only three and writing practice usually started just a little later, but my uncle thought it was good idea to teach me sooner rather than later. It would help me with my coordination skills, my memorizing ability and my development in general.
I guess he was right. Either way, it gave me something to do and I was glad that I would be able to read some read books on my own soon. I desperately wanted to go on a library binge and get started on the clan history. The few things Uncle told me simply weren't enough. I wanted to know it all.
I knew that someone was always watching me - and most of the time I couldn't sense my silent guardians. I merely knew that they were there because I had observed and heard that much. My sensing abilities were far from perfect - I had a short range and anything above chunin could easily avoid me completely if they were trying.
I practiced my sensing constantly for this very reason. Mostly by trying to spot my guards, but I rarely ever found them.
My uncle never really masked his chakra and I was thankful for that. Having him around made me feel safe, even if he didn't have as much time as he used to. In exchange for that I got to spend a little more time with my other uncle. It was quite impressive that my father actually trusted him enough to drop me off with him occasionally. It generally meant fun time, relaxing. Or 'Let's torment my ridiculously annoying little cousin' time. Kawarama was actually rather cute and one shouldn't make the mistake to assume that I didn't love that lovely little hellion, but he was a little cousin, more like a brother and little brothers were terrible.
He was technically about my age. Things would get better with time. And I did enjoy playing with him, even if I had the tendency to complain about him. I suppose I shouldn't complain. It was a bit frustrating that I couldn't spend time with others who were closer to my mental age. The other Uchiha kids who even came close were so far ahead of me in terms of physical strength it wasn't even funny. They would make fun of me until I could keep up with them.
Kawarama was intelligent in his own right, probably ahead of his peers by a little. It wasn't fair to compare him to me - someone who had died at sixteen and ended up as toddler, eagerly learning how to read and write at the age of three because she had nothing better to do.
Uncle started running me through several katas last year. They are mostly meant to give me flexibility and very obviously designed for little Uchiha children like me, specialized to prepare us for the most common Taijutsu style utilized by our clan - Seishin HÅshutsu, or simply called Spirit Release. A rather poetic name for what was really just a fast-paced style meant to confuse and knock out the opponent as fast as humanly possible.
It was rather elegant, with neat pacing and damn it looked so graceful, but it was difficult for someone like me, who had never done anything like this before.
Then there was the fact that I wasn't exactly up to my old mind level, mostly because my brain simply couldn't go there yet. It was slightly difficult for me to concentrate on things like writing - okay, very difficult. I was managing, probably better than any three year old would simply because I knew what the heck I was doing, but it was still a challenge. My uncle was right - practicing did help with my development. I could read fairly well by now.
My body was slow and clumsy. Normal for a three year old, but very hard to get used to for someone once sixteen. I had never been particularly active or fit, but at least I had known how to move my body.
As far as my parents were concerned I was highly gifted, but not freakishly abnormal. Nothing like a spiritual mind transfer of a sixteen year old into a baby or something like that. No, completely normal.
Right.
I finished the last character, patiently waiting for my uncle to show up. He generally checked up on me every two hours or so, making sure that I was doing alright.
I could feel his chakra flare even before he opened the door - I know that it was a warning to alert me to his presence, but it still felt weird to have his usually calm chakra flare up like that.
The house was usually quiet. Sometimes I liked it that way, but sometimes I hated the stillness and silence - that's when I generally went looking for my cousin.
"Kasai." A low rambling next to my ear startled me out of my thoughts. I squeaked rather undignified at being taken by surprise in such a manner. Especially after being warned of his presence only seconds prior. My cheeks flooded with hot blood, but it faded as soon as it had come.
I peered over my shoulder to look at my uncle - that meanie had an amused smile on his face.
"You knew I was there, princess."
"Yes," I muttered, hiding my face behind my black bangs. They really resembled my father's hair a lot. I planned on braiding them, wanted to look at least somewhat different.
"Uncle, where's pa-..."
I forced myself to stop and recollect myself for five seconds. I still didn't know if I was even allowed to call him 'papa'. I knew that my father had a soft spot for me, but what I didn't know was how far that spot actually extended. I could always count on my uncle to be there. Father, though? Generally busy. Clan business, and if it wasn't clan business it was village related.
"Where's Father?"
There was a glint in his eyes I couldn't identify, probably directed at my clumsy attempt to conceal my slip up, but if it was more than slight curiosity he didn't let it show.
Instead he shrugged, rather gracefully so. He had the grace of a panther stalking its prey - unlike my father, who was a bit more forward in his style. Brute force against lethal grace. They matched each other surprisingly well, considering it all.
"How should I know? I'm not your father, am I?"
There was much more behind this question than just innocent banter, I knew it. From the way his smooth voice sounded just a bit too perfect to be natural, and the gleam in his eye.
"Unless there's something I wasn't made aware of I don't think so."
Uncle Izuna grinned toothily while patting my head softly. I used to pretend not liking it just so he would do it again.
"Your father was here not an hour ago, you should have been able to track him, no?"
"If Father does not wish to be found he will not be found," I spoke, nodding sagely while pouring as much wisdom as I could into that single sentence. Hey, it was supposed to sound ridiculous.
My reward was a chuckle and another pat on the head. I leaned into his palm, well aware that I might not get this again for some time. Uchiha were cheap when it came to caresses. As a baby I had gotten a free pass because I technically wasn't supposed to remember it, but the ability of memory should kick in soon. Or already had, in my case.
"Who says your father does not wish to be found?"
I managed to pout at this. The good old pouty face never failed to melt my uncle's heart in an instant, and probably wouldn't for a long time. It rarely worked on my father, if ever, but my mother relented easily enough.
"His signature disappeared the moment he left."
As if in thought, he hummed. A sound that came deep from his throat, rumbling somewhere in his chest.
"I know for a fact that he isn't far away."
I perked up at this - visibly apparently, because my uncle chuckled again. "Go check the armory, I'll look at your Hiragana."
I bobbed my head in a nod before hurrying to my feet and scurrying towards the room that contained Father's probably rather terrifying weaponry. I turned around just before reaching the doorway though, throwing one last glance at my uncle. "Thank you, Esuna!"
Yeah, I couldn't pronounce his name correctly. It was a bit frustrating, to be honest.
He snickered, the skin around his eyes crinkling with mirth. "Just go look for your father, girl."
I performed a clumsy bow before turning around and disappearing in the hallway.
Father could probably hear me minutes before I reached his armory. I hadn't learnt to walk silently yet, but to him it was second nature. I often wondered how he did it, walking without sound. I knew that my parents generally had to focus to actually make a sound, and they often did so to alert me to their presence. Something I was thankful for - I did not like being startled. Sometimes Izuna was rather merciless though, because he snuck up on me to teach me those lessons early. Watch your back, be on your guard at all times. Just because I wasn't sent into the field at six that didn't mean that there was no need to be careful.
I scurried around the next corner and spotted the light shining through the small slit under the door. So Father really was here. Just when I was about to throw the door open his voice forced me to freeze on the spot.
"Stay there," he commanded, and I didn't dare to disobey. If the metallic clutter from the other side of the door was any indication he was probably making sure there was nothing I could step on in there.
It didn't take long from a purely logical standpoint, but to me it felt like minutes before he gave me permission to enter.
I shoved the door open, with much more caution than I had intended to use the first time and paused for a few seconds before entering.
Father had removed the stray weaponry that normally cluttered his workbench, as I knew from the few glances I had briefly thrown in here while passing in the hallway. His Gunbai leaned against the solid woodwork, partially de-bandaged and halfway cleaned of blood and other remnants of battle.
I was actually never allowed to come in here and had my uncle not told me to go I wouldn't have considered coming here to look for him. Father probably told him to send me here when I was done with my Kanji.
There was a small, obviously often used stool in the corner next to the workbench. Its surface was already smooth from the long evenings of tedious, thorough weapon care. Time I knew he enjoyed, it was a way for him to relax. His shoulders didn't seem quite as tense and his eyes not quite as cold here, despite the hard, red shadows of the flame softly crackling in the fireplace.
He gestured me to come closer. Because Madara Uchiha was not to be defied I obeyed, and for so many more reasons I did not want to think about. He was my father - sometimes scary, easily agitated, but that would never make me not obey him.
With feet shuffling on the ground I waddled closer until I was about an arm's length away from him. I'd love to say that I wasn't surprised when he scooped me up in one sweep and placed me firmly on his shoulder, would love to say that I didn't squeak like a little mouse - but that would be pretty much a lie. And I can squeak pretty hard. Unfortunately.
"Father?" I asked with meek surprise.
He didn't respond, merely forced out a soft sigh.
"What do you see, child?"
I let my gaze wander around the room, never lingering longer than necessary. Flickering, searching. Eyes slowly widening and mouth gaping. Father's arsenal wasn't to be taken lightly. I stopped at Father's wall above his work desk. Neatly aligned on the wall, cleaned and sharpened, were the most terrifying swords I had ever seen. The image of those swords coated in red, cold blood flooded my mind and somewhere a voice called that this wasn't my imagination. A memory, faint and distant, a picture of a cold Kunai pressed to my throat... Sharp blades, meant to tear, rip, shred, kill. Some looked absolutely brutal, others seemed fairly merciful. None of them had any sheen - that could end up rather badly for a shinobi. But they all had in common that they were made to hurt.
I sunk backwards, thoughts now racing. Kill. Those weapons were meant to kill. Not just hurt, kill.
For the first time since my revelation about the Uchiha clan I actually felt frightened - because this was my future, and I had no other choice. So laid out directly in front of me I suddenly realized that yes, shinobi killed for a living and this is what I had signed up for.
What I was born into.
I gripped the arm holding me firmly place until my knuckles went white and my fingers began to ache. He probably didn't feel much from my toddler death grip, but I could see a frown forming on his face.
There was no way out now. I couldn't go back, turn away, rewind time. I had shown them what I could do, and they would be fools to let it go. I only had myself to blame.
I felt his firm hold around me loosen and I feared for a second that he'd drop me, that I had disappointed him, but instead he just heaved me from his shoulder and propped me up against his side, now firmly held in place by his arm.
There was a bucket of water next to the fireplace that now served as a quick way to kill the flames that illuminated the room. A hissing sound and the smell of smoke in the air, then darkness. For some odd reason it didn't frighten me despite being one of my primal sources of fear in my past life. I still didn't like it, but it didn't make me cry. Not now.
Arguably adorable toddler face all scrunched up in a frown - must seem weird for any outsider - I pressed my cheek into the rough fabric that covered his chest. I heard a strong heartbeat underneath and felt chakra running through his coils like blood. Father always smelled of smoke and ash. It was probably a side-effect from his constant dealings with the Uchiha's famous fire powers. I knew that the smell didn't last through a long bath because... I just knew. because he had been with me often enough that I didn't need to exactly remember when I had learned that.
He smoothed my wild mane with his gloved fingers - more a habit than anything else. We both knew that it was useless anyway, because I had inherited his sorry excuse for hair. But it was oddly soothing in a way, a means to calm my wild heart from its unhealthy rate. Fear hadn't left me even now, the notion of what was to come being more than enough to rekindle the flames of fright.
We left the room in darkness, followed by it through the entire house. His destination was unknown to me, as was his reason for the sudden silence. While Father didn't speak often and was rather sparse with his words silence generally didn't feel unnatural or uncomfortable with him. Like now. Yeah, uncomfortable was the right word. But that might just have been my still panicked mind.
It seemed like an eternity to me, even though my mind logically knew that it only took about half a minute to reach the exit to the courtyard in a moderate pace.
Darkness already claimed the world and kept it in its claws. Cold air immediately caught me and replaced the comforting warmth of our home with the cool winds only the night could bring. Night air felt different to me - fresher, silent. It didn't really make sense, it just was like that.
Father readjusted his hold on me and wound another arm around my body, not to strengthen his grip but to keep me warm. At least I thought so.
"Hold on," he rumbled, somewhere close to my ear. What was he planning? A sense of dread overcame me as it dawned to me that he was a ninja... and ninjas traveled the fast way...
As fear reestablished its grip on me I tightly wound my arms around his neck, burying my face between his shoulder and throat. I think I heard him chuckle then, before he took off with such a speed I thought my innards were twisting.
For a few seconds pure panic enveloped my heart. I felt cold, the wind was tearing at my skin and through my hair until my ears felt numb and the fear of dropping to my death or running into a wall headfirst clouded all my thoughts.
I was going to die.
We were too fast, way too fast, how did he even know where he was going?
I closed my eyes in panic, gripping the fabric under my fingers until my knuckles went wide.
And then he went vertical.
Up and up and up until I thought I was going to cry, until I was whimpering despite my fear of making him angry - you didn't want to see Father angry.
No no no no no please stop please stop please sto-...
He came to a sudden halt and the world stopped spinning. I took a deep breath, not quite sure if I was still in one piece, before carefully lifting my head from his shoulder and taking a good look around.
This was... well, it looked like the Hokage Mountain. Or rather what would become the Hokage Mountain one day. Personally I always thought the heads carved into the stone looked kind of silly...
I was still panting, fingers still buried deep in his clothes. Father seemed as composed as ever. Such a small jog around the village was probably nothing to him.
I let my gaze wander but darkness was all-encompassing. My eyes weren't good enough for the darkness, so I tried to rely on my other senses. Checking for Chakra signatures revealed... my uncle? Huh?
While I tried to wrap my head around the fact that Hashirama apparently took nightly strolls to the mountain my father began to move once again, steps confident and strong despite the lack of light and the uneven terrain. Slowly but surely the shape of a tall figure began to form in the darkness, a contrast to the black of the night sky.
I think he knew of our presence long before he could actually see us - I for one couldn't hide my chakra, and aside from the fact that everyone had chakra mine wasn't even exactly small, mostly because of heritage. It wasn't ridiculously big like Naruto's or even my father's, but it was above average for a toddler. Until I was six or seven it wouldn't really develop further anyway.
"It's a bit late for Little Sapling, no?"
Father hummed, a rumble that resonated and vibrated in his chest.
Contrary to popular belief not every Uchiha answered everything in monosyllabic grunts. Father was actually not a fan of that at all, and I got punished for just getting close to falling into that habit. Now he was doing it himself. Hypocrite.
He set me down on the ground. I cried in dismay, mostly because it was cold and Father was incredibly warm, like a walking heater. It seemed as if he never felt cold.
Before I knew it someone else had already picked me up - my uncle this time. He was equally warm, and I tried to take advantage of his clothes by basically crawling inside, assuming that he wouldn't mind.
"Madara, your poor daughter is freezing."
His voice rumbled next to my ear and vibrated so much my skin and eardrums began to tickle. I couldn't see Father's or Hashirama's expressions, so I had to guess their mood from their voices.
"It's not that cold. She'll live."
Father was merciless when it came to things like this.
Hashirama harrumphed, and I snorted because of the tickling which earned me a pat on the back.
"Why did you bring her here?"
That was actually a good question, one I'd like to ask myself.
"There's something she needs to see here." Father sounded rather heavy, solemn. See something? Here? In the dark? Wouldn't it have been better to take me here during daytime?
Hashirama made an affirmative sound, as if he got some hidden meaning in Father's words - they sounded fairly plain to me.
"Hm. May I, Madara? I'm a bit more sensible than you..."
I heard another grumble. "You don't know why, mop head."
My uncle strategically ignored the nickname. "So tell me then. What brought this on?"
A heavy silence followed, until Father spoke again. "Fear."
My ears perked up at this, and I momentarily lifted my chin a little.
"Maa, just let me take care of this. I'll drop her at your complex tomorrow."
"If I find her in pieces by the time tomorrow comes..."
"Isn't going to happen, mother duck." I could almost see my father bristle at this. It was kind of funny how certain things triggered his protectiveness while others didn't... I guess Shinobi parents were just peculiar. They went through life or death situations on a regular basis after all.
"Now shoo. Don't make your lady wait."
It was no surprise that no one talked to my father like this except Hashirama. They knew each other since childhood and were more or less equals in terms of strength... okay, maybe not equals. But they were close. Chakra monsters, the both of them.
I felt Father's chakra disappear. For a second I was surprised that he left without another word, especially after being talked to so rudely. He generally didn't tolerate that... but then again, Hashirama.
I still couldn't believe my luck of ever meeting this man, much less him being my uncle.
He often smelled of forests, of earth, sometimes of water. Always of nature. Perhaps because he was outside so often - less and less these days, his office kept him confined inside - but still a creature of nature.
I loved him, because he was kind and good-natured, inspiring, warm... and funny. Dear old uncle knew how to crack a joke.
I didn't love him like uncle Izuna, no. Izuna meant the world to me, simply because he was always there. Even when my father wasn't, Izuna would be there, had always been since I was a baby.
Mother I loved just as much, because she was supporting and gentle and yet so strong. A role model for someone like me.
Father... father was a different beast. I didn't fear him. A long time ago, in my past life, I probably would have called it fear - but fear was the terrifying cold that had gripped me when someone had tried to kill me as a mere baby.
I respected Father, never feared him. His punishments were harsh and more often than not failure was not an option, but he didn't expect the impossible, nor did he push me far beyond my limits. He also meant safety and protection from things I couldn't protect myself from. Father's name was power. For me it brought expectations. And chances.
I heard my uncle sigh, and the warm breath brushed through my hair, fanning along my ear like a small flame.
"Your father is an odd one, you know? Used to be nicer as a kid." He chuckled to himself.
"There was a time when I was afraid he'd lose himself to the shadows."
He softly readjusted his hold of me, one arm under my legs, the other around my torso.
"But his brother was there to keep him sane. Who knows what would have happened without him around..."
I shuddered, because I knew exactly what would have happened. He would have gone insane and... come back with a stupid plan for world domination. I wouldn't let that happen here.
"I know he probably has high expectations of you. It's hard not to."
He patted my head, so softly he must be thinking I was made of glass.
"Just don't let that scare you. Even if you fail he won't drop you. Trust me."
At this I lifted my chin and saw straight into his eyes. There was something solemn there, something honest. He was so sure of what he said. I wonder how it felt to have the confidence to never question yourself and the strength to back it up. When you were as strong as him you could be as laid back as you wanted to be, who exactly could call you out on it?
I wanted to be like him, strong and kind and admired, but I wanted to be like Father, too... respected, saluted.
In my past life social anxiety and learned helplessness had crippled any efforts to make a good future for myself. Ever since I came here my clan had started to drill that behavior out of me before even knowing that it existed... and I was grateful for that. I didn't want to be that girl again. Never again.
"I believe you... but I won't fail."
I hadn't said much this evening and he was obviously surprised when I suddenly spoke up, but his surprise soon morphed into a warm smile.
"Good... I'll take your word on that, hear me? Now that we've got that out of the way, can you imagine why your father brought you here?"
"Because the village looks pretty?"
I actually had a crawling suspicion, but while I did want to show that I was intelligent this would probably overdo it a little.
"Ah, no," he chuckled, "but I agree with you!" and the chuckle grew into a full-fledged laugh.
"It's beautiful, and peaceful."
Hashirama dropped himself on the ground, folding his legs and softly settling me comfortably in his lap. "When we were younger there were no Hidden Villages, only many clans waging war for a living."
He absentmindedly patted my hair. I was actually delighted at all the attention I was getting today. First from my uncle, then my Dad, now my other uncle... I bet something bad would happen in return, just you wait.
"The Senju and Uchiha clans were only two of many. I watched some... pretty close family members die at a young age."
He seemed to drift off for a while, and I didn't feel like bothering him when this was obviously important to him.
"I wanted to change it. Your father had similar ideas, but it wasn't until much later that we actually came around to do it."
At this he made wide gesture with his arm, symbolically encompassing the entire village.
"This is the result. It's not perfect, but it's a step up from the old system, believe me. Things are much more peaceful here, and us shinobi have a purpose now. To protect the village with our lives..."
A cold gust of air blew through my hair and into my face, but I ignored it, all my attention directed at the sleeping village beneath us.
"You're afraid of something."
I nodded, eyes still glued to the shapes and forms of houses, homes of people, civilians. People that couldn't defend themselves, people that were helpless in the face of a shinobi attack. Was it fair then, fair to drag these people into the quarrels of Shinobi? Or were they actually safer here?
"Tell me what it is."
I remained silent for a long while, unmoving, almost tranquil in the night's soothing calmness.
"Shinobi fight other Shinobi," I suddenly blurted out. "And they hurt each other."
My uncle was apparently taken aback or maybe surprised, because he tightened his grip around me and pulled me closer. "You're unusually aware for a toddler, you know?" he muttered, distress creeping into his voice.
I remained silent at this, simply because I couldn't exactly explain that I wasn't a toddler inside. It was all I could do to suppress the worry that he would get suspicious. I shouldn't even be able to remember anything from this age, yet I clearly did. Some memories became blurry sometimes, more so than normally, but they usually remained.
As my thoughts wandered I lowered my head, now staring at my fingers folded in my lap. For some reason I wasn't cold anymore and wondered if my uncle had something to do with it.
"It is true," he muttered, words slow and dragged, "that death is part of a Shinobi's life. Why are you even thinking about this, Kasai? You shouldn't even know what that is."
I panicked inwardly but somehow managed to keep calm to the outside. "I was... attacked as a baby, wasn't I?"
"How... who told you? Madara wanted to keep that a secret!" Uncle suddenly seemed worried, distressed and... angry? Not at me, apparently.
"I..." I gulped. "No one told me. I remember." All I could do was hope that he'd mistake the tremor in my voice for a lasting trauma from that night.
Silence followed, then he shifted, arms around my torso, turning me around till I could see his face. He must have seen how distressed I was then, because he soothingly petted my hair. "You shouldn't be able to remember that. How come?"
"I don't know," I whispered, eyes lowered. A lie, though probably hard to tell.
"Hm," he hummed. "Stranger things have happened."
The fact that he wasn't worried at all made me question his intelligence, although just a little. Perhaps he had reasons.
"I could think of one reason," he continued, voice strangely distant as if his mind had wandered off to somewhere else. "Uchiha have a special chakra in their brain," he began, pointing at my forehead. "It usually only gets produced under emotional stress, however."
Of course, the chakra that caused the Sharingan to surface.
"I suppose being attacked out of nowhere counts as emotional stress." The smile that flickered across his face seemed more like a tortured grimace, to be honest. This subject appeared to be painful for him.
"It's possible, I suppose..."
He drifted off again, leaving me to wonder what he was talking about. I didn't feel like prodding either, so I just curled up into a little ball of toddler, basically ready to fall asleep.
"I'll have to talk with Madara about this. Maybe contact a Yamanaka..."
The mere notion of that caused me to panic a little. Yamanaka could read memories, and while my old ones were blurry at best I didn't want him to find out anything about that. Who knew what the consequences could be. Nope, not good at all. But I technically shouldn't know what a Yamanaka is, so complaining now would seem suspicious.
"Ah, anyway. That's not the subject at hand, is it? So you're afraid of what a Shinobi's life might bring."
"Yes," I muttered into his clothes.
He hummed softly, lacing his fingers into my hair. "We first and foremost protect the village. Do you want to protect, Kasai?"
Did I want to? Be strong enough to protect those I loved? Yes, I wanted to be. Above all else I wanted to be stronger than my old self, and a blessing instead of a burden.
"Yes," I breathed, barely audible, but apparently he caught it nonetheless. A brilliant smile stretched his lips.
"Good, then you have your answer."
So... that was it. Death was part of a shinobi's life, and I was born into the wrong time period to complain. Had I ended up in Naruto's time I might have been able to be part of that time of change, the true peace he's supposed to bring, but as it was I was stuck in the time that's only halfway at peace.
Choices, choices. Sure, choices were there, but the consequences were uncomfortable either way. Become a ninja, suffer the death that surrounds you. Drop out, disappoint father... and Hashirama. I had promised him that I wouldn't fail.
... Fail at what, exactly? Fail to become strong? I knew I could do that - I had the needed guidance, the best circumstances, the best genes. And I had a reason to.
Even in my past life I had feared to disappoint others. In a way I had built my life around others and at the same time not. Selfishly, egoistically, but somehow still selfless. How that was possible, I don't know.
No, I wouldn't fail to become strong. But I could fail to fulfill the purpose of a Shinobi. And that's something that just wouldn't do. I've already given my promise, failure is not an option.
Failure. is. not. an option.
Like a mantra, it embedded itself into my mind.
"Failure is not an option," I repeated softly, solemnly, quietly yet firm. Clenching my fists and closing my eyes until nothing but the wind and my uncle's steady breathing remained.
"For you or your clan?"
He sounded careful, as if he feared that my clan's philosophy had scarred me already, but I merely smiled, softly shaking my head. My last life was nothing but failure. Not this time. Not this time.
"For me."
Uncle remained silent for a minute, before gently picking me up and holding me against his chest, where I could rest my cheek against his strong, steadily beating heart. He rose from his position, apparently about to return home.
"I feel that you're honest, good. Now it's time to sleep my dear, it's already far too late for you."
On this I absolutely agreed and let out a yawn just to prove his point, earning me a quiet laugh from him.
"Good night, little firecracker."
I hummed in response before closing my eyes and falling asleep.
AN: Some Hashirama, Izuna being sly and Madara not having a single sensible bone in his body.
To be honest, I'm not sure what to think about this chapter. In regards to Kasai's interest in history - personally I love history. And if I were to end up in the Naruto world I'd try to find out as much as possible, that's just how I am.