Umm, so I changed my username. It used to be poeticness-at-its-finest. Then I decided Wobble Knife was good, and it's not like I have that many people reading this so I hope no one minds…

Enjoy this next chapter.

Posted: 6/17/15

Last Edited: 6/20/15


A dull ache throbbed behind my eyes. I squeezed them tightly together, feeling hunger and thirst desperately making themselves known as my thoughts, with a painstaking lethargy, sharpened in coherency.

"She's waking up," a whisper sounded somewhere to my left, and I snapped open my eyes. I was not alone.

A blonde girl crouched by my side, owl brown eyes carefully observing me. I noted she held no wariness toward me, despite what I'd done last night. Sitting up with a wince as bruises and scrapes made themselves known, I pushed aside ragged blankets beneath me and on top of me, supposedly to provide a semblance of warmth. I glanced around as I slowly scooted out of the makeshift bed and recognized it was daytime. Faded red brick buildings rose up on either side of us, marred with graffiti, and blocked my view of the sun. I couldn't pinpoint exactly what time it was, then.

"Here," the girl said, bringing my attention back to her as a redhead also made her way into my field of vision. "Eat this."

She thrust a piece of bread toward me, and I eyed it, feeling my stomach rumble and squeeze and my mouth salivate in response.

"Who are you?" I asked instead, my voice coming out in a rasp, and she handed me a pan, balancing it carefully as she tipped it toward my face.

"What—"

"Just drink it," the redhead said brusquely, crouching down beside me and holding me still. My throat was burning from thirst, so I didn't make much of a struggle when the blonde tilted the pan of water into my mouth. When it first touched my tongue, it felt like heaven. I gulped it down greedily after that. Whether it was contaminated or not, well, I would find out sooner or later. Right now, I couldn't care less.

Once the last couple drops of (cool, refreshing, head-clearing) water slid down my throat, I glanced between them, waiting for them to answer my question. The blonde handed me the bread again, and I accepted it, mumbling a "thanks" as I just barely remembered my manners.

"I'm Gunma Hisae," she finally introduced herself as I swallowed the bread, trying to chew but feeling too hungry to waste my time. Of course, it ended up stuck in my throat, and I grimaced, waiting for the chunk to slide down.

Hisae seemed to recognize my problem and frowned, finding another pan of water.

"This is the last bit of water we have left," she said reluctantly, and carefully handed it to me. When the redhead started protesting, Hisae shushed her and let me drink it. The selfish brat I was, I took it and drank it all, feeling satisfied when the lump of food slid down my throat.

"Why are you helping me?" I asked.

"You don't remember us?" the redhead said with a roll of her eyes. "You, er, saved us. Last night."

I'd saved them? I looked down at the grungy ground, recalling the events of last night and the hopelessness I'd felt. A residue of it still lingered, but now that I'd had water, food, and most important, time to calm down, I wasn't as desperate as before to give up my fight for life.

"Last night," I murmured, feeling a shudder run through me. "You do know I killed them?"

Her gray eyes flashed. The redhead said stiffly, "It was either them or us. Hisae says you saved her even after you had the chance to escape. We decided we had to pay you back, somehow. You're only a kid, anyway."

"I'm nine," I said, affronted. The two before me didn't look all that much older, though you couldn't really tell with homeless children since hollowed cheeks and thin structures made all of us appear smaller than we were supposed to be.

"And I'm eleven," the redhead said smugly. "Hisae's even twelve. I'm Ika, by the way."

I didn't say anything in response, and Ika demanded, "Hey, aren't you going to introduce yourself?"

I shrugged, slowly and awkwardly scooting away from them as the stringy pieces of blanket tumbled off my body. As they stared at me, I located my backpack and clumsily pulled it over my shoulders before standing on wobbly knees.

"Thanks, but, um, I've gotta go."

"Hey! We just helped you!" Ika said, looking angry. "You drank our water and ate our food. The least you could do is introduce yourself."

I decided it couldn't hurt. "I'm Shiroko."

"We should stick together," Hisae said, speaking up again as she reached a hand out toward me. "Shiroko-chan, stay with us. We can help each other. It's hard being by yourself, isn't it? We can take care of each other, since you know how to fight and we can get the food and water."

Wariness slithered back inside me. I stood, backing farther away. "Um. I can get food and water too. I've been by myself for the past two years. I've been fine."

"She doesn't want to," Ika muttered to Hisae. "We don't have to make her stay with us, you know."

"But she saved us, and we should help her," Hisae whispered back. It seemed she was an inherently good person, despite the fact that most people took without giving back, especially in desperate times.

"It's okay," I said, cutting off their conversation. "I'm, um, going back home. To Konoha. I don't want to be on the run anymore."

I hadn't talked this much in such a long time that I found communication like this odd. And I felt a little frightened, too, because I wasn't sure what the results of this conversation were going to be and I had never really spoken all that much as a young child, anyway.

"Really," Ika said slowly, gray eyes scrutinizing me. "Isn't that super far away?"

I shrugged again. Who knew how far I'd traveled in the past two years?

She took a step toward me, and I, alarmed, took a step back.

Ika noticed my behavior. She stopped and demanded, "Why are you so jumpy? You look like we're going to attack you or something."

I did think it was possible they could start attacking me. I remembered a technique called henge, in which shinobi transformed into other objects or other people with a couple hand seals, and it was possible "Ika" and "Hisae" could actually be other people.

At the mention of an attack, however, I suddenly thought of my grandmother's paintbrush. Still keeping an eye on the redhead, I swung my backpack to the front and quickly dug through its contents before my hand found the thin wood piece and stroked it in relief.

Ika gave me a strange look before sighing. "You're probably a nutcase. Just leave then, already."

I still said nothing to this. I'd never been a confrontational person, rather meek, actually, and I didn't know how to say I'd been a little offended by what she'd said. Instead, I stared at her for a while longer before backing away again. And when it didn't look like they were going to give chase, I spun on the ball of my foot and scampered away, out of the alleyway and into the streets. Important-looking adults loomed above me, walking this way and that with purpose in their steps. Well, I had a new purpose, too.

For the past two years, I'd traveled as far and as often as I could, hoping every day I would somehow encounter my mother or my sister, whether through the newspapers or in person.

But now…I was done. I couldn't take this life anymore—I had a good one back in Konoha, where I could go to the Academy, and train, and become a shinobi. Make real friends. This search, I decided with finality and bitter wistfulness, was over.

I was moving on.

o0o0o0o

It took another year for me to finally reach Konoha. It had taken me two years prior to reach the point where I had, simply because I was younger with a smaller, weaker body. (And, I had to admit, far more scared about traveling on my own than I was now.)

I turned ten somewhere in there, somewhere in the cold of November, and survived after experiencing a couple fevers here and there—things I was able to survive by temporarily sneaking into orphanages, where they believed me to be another new orphan that had to be taken care of. The sick didn't have to adhere to the strict schedule, either, so I could recuperate inside a warm building with warm, if bland, food before moving on again.

It had happened plenty over the years, but I'd grown accustomed to it. I'd figured out what I could or couldn't do, and how to live independently from the age of seven. Basic survival skills from long ago, during my time in the Shinobi Academy, helped immensely.

The gates of Konoha loomed over me as I approached it in the darkening evening, sure my bedraggled appearance was drawing curious looks from civilians going to and from Konoha.

"Hello," I carefully greeted a shinobi stationed at the gate, having prepared a small speech beforehand, muttering it to myself as I walked to practice my voice and drawing odd looks as a result. Embarrassing, but even more embarrassing if I arrived at the gates only to stare at the guards with a deer-in-the-headlights look. "I'm Uchiha Shiroko. I've decided to return to Konoha and become a shinobi. I don't know how it works, but please don't send me to the orphanage; I can still stay in the Uchiha district."

He had a bandage across the bridge of his nose as he bent down eye-level to me, concern in his brown eyes. "You're Uchiha Shiroko, you say?"

The other guard's eyes sharpened, and the shinobi in front of me frowned. "Hm. If you could wait here for a moment while I contact the Hokage."

I watched him exchange a look with the other gate guard before he nodded and disappeared. Disappeared. I'd known shinobi could do that, but I'd never actually seen it until now. Slightly awed, I blinked at the dust settling where he'd been, and the other guard, observing me, gently guided me to the side.

"Only precaution," he smiled at me with a flop of brown hair covering half his face. "Sorry about this."

I nodded timidly. I was tired. He studied me with fathomless brown eyes, and I glanced down at the ground in nervousness before the other shinobi appeared again.

"I'll take you to the Hokage's office," he decided, putting a hand on my shoulder. "Will you get nauseous if we travel by shunshin?"

I automatically shook my head, keeping silent.

"Alright. Izumo, you're fine with watching the gate for a while?"

His partner waved him on, and he gripped my shoulder tightly before, in a whirl of wind and dust around us, we appeared in front of the Hokage tower. I almost stumbled, but he caught me and gently guided me forward.

I stared around me at both the familiar and the unfamiliar sights of Konoha before we entered the building, curious eyes on us. We went up several flights of stairs before we finally reached the Hokage's office, and by then I felt more than a little dizzy. I was trembling with exhaustion. Still, I forced myself to keep going just as I had many times before—I was almost there.

The shinobi knocked on the Hokage's door, and after a pause there came a "Come in," before the man pushed open the door.

"Hokage-sama," he bowed, and I did the same, straightening and feeling myself sway as the blood in my head rushed down again due to gravity. The Hokage, noticing this, gestured for us to sit. We both did.

"This is the girl who claims to be Uchiha Shiroko," the shinobi said. Fear fluttered in my chest. He didn't believe me?

"Ah," the Hokage mused. "Thank you, Kotetsu-san. I will take care of her from this point on. You may leave."

"Yes, Hokage-sama," he said, bowing again before leaving out the door. It shut with a click behind him, and I felt several pairs of eyes on me even though I could only see the Hokage sitting at his desk in front of me. I glanced around the room and still found nothing.

It was silent as the Hokage scrutinized me. "Uchiha Shiroko."

I looked up at him, waiting silently for whatever he was about to say next. He made a quick hand gesture, and an intimidating woman appeared beside him out of thin air—or at least it appeared so. Maybe I should have been expecting it, but after being among civilians for so long, I jerked in surprise, anyway. A glistening mask with red painted lines delineating the features of an animal covered her facial features, and plated arm and shin guards protected her limbs. She wore what I recognized as the standard ANBU outfit. They exchanged a couple words before the Sandaime nodded and she disappeared again. Was it still shunshin if it didn't cause any wind?

A deep sigh jerked me out of my musing. "Alright. We'll take you to the hospital to confirm your identity and also make sure you're well enough, health-wise."

I quickly stood, understanding he wanted us to go now. "Um, okay."

No—that wasn't polite. The gate guard…Kotetsu-san, or whatever it was, had said something else, and I repeated it. "I mean, yes, Hokage-sama."

At this, he gave me a slight smile. "No need to be so polite. Come with me."

While I wasn't sure why the Hokage himself was accompanying one single orphan to the hospital, I trotted after him. To my surprise, he held out a hand to me, and I took it after a confused second. We headed down the stairs (and were there still those eyes following me? I looked around wildly and still found nothing), and took a short walk before reaching the hospital as he gave me polite inquiries as to my whereabouts the past three years.

"I—I was looking for my mom and my sister," I answered nervously. Would there be a punishment for what I'd done?

The Sandaime eyed me before giving me another gentle look. "I see. Where will you live now?"

I bit my lip. "In the Uchiha district?"

He hummed. "If you would like."

I had the feeling he was about to say more before he decided against it and we arrived at the hospital in another couple of moments. Inside, the Sandaime's presence immediately demanded attention and the process was quick after my blood was drawn. I was left dithering in the waiting room with a nurse who'd given me some crackers to eat, and the Sandaime apologized, stating he had other business to attend to, before leaving.

The nurse was busy with other work, however, and I was soon left alone again. I leaned my head back in the hard plastic chair, and closed my eyes.

o0o0o0o

I woke when I felt myself gently swaying. Opening my eyes, I blinked up at the visage of a gleaming porcelain ANBU mask, and the mask briefly tilted down.

"Your identity was confirmed at the hospital," a feminine voice informed me. "I'm taking you to the Uchiha district. Uchiha Sasuke is expecting your arrival."

Nodding minutely, I watched my surroundings fly past before we sailed downward with a stomach-lurching landing. The ANBU set me down. It was dark outside, but a boy walked closer to the Uchiha gates, and I immediately recognized him to be Uchiha Sasuke, my adoptive brother.

He looked different—older, obviously, but a lot taller than me too. He shoved his hands into his white shorts, bunching up the bottom of his vibrant blue Uchiha shirt and said, "Uchiha Shiroko?"

I looked around for the ANBU, but she had already disappeared. I nodded quickly, then, all the while musing about how he'd put such emphasis on my name. Specifically, my clan name. We were now of the same clan. I blinked when I realized how similar we looked, coloring-wise: pale skin, black hair, and dark eyes, accentuated with aristocratic facial features—at least for him. For me, in grungy, dirty clothing, all I felt was civilian, and shame squirmed uncomfortably inside of me. My father had always valued appearances, had always placed his and his children's statuses as high-class because we were of the Uchiha clan, and right now I was anything but. I was one of those scruffy orphans he'd always despised.

Seeing Sasuke, though, drew up something odd inside me. I wasn't sure what it was—it was fear, maybe, or something more like apprehension, mixed with regret, and overlaying everything, guilt. I couldn't be guilty over leaving Konoha, leaving Sasuke alone, but I was.

"Are you coming?" he asked. I shook myself mentally and meekly nodded, following him into the house he chose to live in. It wasn't the one we'd originally resided in.

As we stepped inside, he asked, "Do you need to eat?"

I nodded, embarrassed—and then wondered why I felt that way. As if it was my fault I was hungry, I thought with resentment, and instead I blamed Sasuke for making me feel that way.

He began preparing a sandwich, but I offered to do it and he let me, watching me all the while with eyes like a hawk. I felt uncomfortable with his eyes on me, but felt even more uncomfortable with The Eyes watching from outside the window. I didn't know how I knew they were there—I couldn't see them, that was for sure. Sasuke, meanwhile, was seated across from me, staring as I gobbled up my small sandwich. I'd looked up at him a couple times, but he hadn't averted his gaze and instead I felt like I was the one doing something wrong as I returned to my sandwich.

"Um, I'll wash the dishes," I offered, noticing the dirty plates still sitting in the sink. He must have just finished his dinner. Exhausted as I was, I wasn't about to completely disregard my manners—Sasuke didn't necessarily have to provide for me while I settled in, and I had to pull my weight somehow.

He shook his head, spiky black hair swaying. "No. You don't know how to wash them properly."

The 11-year-old roughly pulled the single plate out of my hands, and I backed off quietly. After he placed it in the sink, he informed me he would first show me my room before washing the dishes, and I picked up my backpack before following him down the darkened hall.

"This one's yours; bathroom is across the hall," he said, pointing at two separate doors before gesturing at the one next to mine. "And that's my room. Don't go into it."

"Right. Um, thank you."

I'd said that plenty at the start and finish of the meal, but I felt the need to thank him again—no one had done anything for me for a very long time. And while his help was out of nothing but…maybe it was duty, or kindness, I wasn't sure, he didn't owe me anything. It was a wonder he'd offered food and prepared a room for me as well in the short time he'd been notified of my arrival, especially after what I'd done to him three years ago.

He ignored my gratitude and quietly strode away again, leaving me to my own devices. I slid open the door and padded inside, marveling at how polished the floor felt below my hole-filled socks. The setup was Spartan, simple. There was a folded blanket at the foot of my bed, and the furniture was clearly recently-dusted. The sheets and the pillows looked clean, and the room was filled with the scent of the summer air, indicating the window had been open earlier to air out any staleness.

I finally set my belongings into a desk drawer, making sure my grandmother's paintbrush was secure in its spot. Though it had been years, I still cherished the last thing I had of my wonderful, loving grandmother before her life and others had been taken by a single, horrible man.

My perusal of my room complete, I wandered over to the bathroom. At the sink counter, which I found was at mid-chest level, I found a toothbrush, and toothpaste, and a simple clear cup. There were a couple combs in the drawers, as well as strands of dark hair caught in the teeth. A towel hung on the rack, and another fluffy bath towel was folded neatly on the counter.

So we were sharing a bathroom…? I frowned, looking out the bathroom door and hearing the sound of running water dying down. I would let Sasuke take a shower first, then. He'd already done a lot, and I didn't want to burden him with a long waiting time.

Blinking sleepily, I opened my door and rested against the wall, pulling up my knees to my chest. Even seated on this hard wooden floor, I felt far more comfortable than I'd felt in three years. I could barely remember what a bed felt like, but I didn't want to lie on it and end up smearing a bunch of dirt and other questionable substances onto the pristine covers and sheets.

My eyelids were two-ton weights increasing in weight by the minute, and I closed my eyes. I could rest, merely for the moment. Once I heard Sasuke turn off the shower—he'd already entered the bathroom; I'd heard the footsteps and the door sliding closed—I would get up.

For now, I would just rest a little bit.


Please review. Constructive criticism appreciated. Thanks.

~Wobble Knife