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Title: daisies bloom over yonder meadow

Rating: Temporary T.

Summary: "Demons aren't born, otou-sama. They're made." (And from the murky depths of your darkest mistakes, your deepest regrets and your own pitiful worthlessness, I draw my first breath.) [SI/OC, Uchiha!OC, Third War, AU]

Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto.

(AN at the bottom.)

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daisies bloom over yonder meadow

02: "counterclockwise"


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"Come here, Madoka-chan."

Ojii-san rarely smiles. There is always this serious mien that is perpetually draped about his shoulders, something dark and heavy and solemn that had and has never quite deigned to lift its crushing weight from his back –both in the distant past and throughout the remainder of his dwindling life.

(Nonetheless, this has no bearing on his strength. Even as his body withered with the passing of the years, the fiery strength that burned in the core of his being never quite left his blood.)

"You need to understand, Madoka-chan," ojii-san says, eyes dark and voice low. "You need to understand. I can teach you the shinobi arts, I can teach you how to protect yourself from others who wish you harm, those who wish you ill –but I cannot protect you from everything; I cannot protect you from yourself if your heart is weak. That is something I cannot do."

Ojii-san often speaks in riddles, forward and backward and backward and forward, but it is just as well. It suits him, master of genjutsu that he is, and I am intelligent enough to hear the true words wrapped within–

"Hai, ojii-san," is my only response, quiet and demure and every bit the picturesque obedient child. Because it is expected of me, and because I find no reason not to. "I understand."

But I didn't at the time, not really.

Out of everyone in the clan –ojii-san was the only one who had seen something about Obito even that far back. I like to think of it as a sixth sense of sorts, this not-quite-clairvoyant sense for the future; maybe it has something to do with the numerous possibilities, probabilities reflected off the shattered mirror-shards of a broken mind.

(If it is demons that you seek, then it is demons that will gather around you, ghastly and grinning with bloody-fanged smiles as they twine over your shoulders and delicately, lovingly choke you to death.

… Or something like that, at least.)

"I don't think your ojii-san likes me," Obito had confided in me once, when we were crouched down by the riverbanks eating dried persimmons –freshly filched from a neighboring aunt's porch, and all the sweeter for it. Flecks of powder-white sugar flaked off my fingertips and into the muddy grass, but my attention had been more focused on the gesticulations of the older boy than anything else at the time, in this rare moment of perceptiveness from him.

"Ojii-san doesn't like anyone," I'd replied to his comment at the time. Maybe not in those exact words, but something along those lines in a similar vein. But… it wasn't true, not exactly, even if it certainly seemed so in a cursory look. Because, see–

Ojii-san loves the clan.

Ojii-san loves the clan.

More than anything else, more than his children, his village, his very own life –ojii-san values the clan above all of that, so close does he hold it to his heart, to his soul, to the core of his very being. It's not something I had understood upon discovering the fact, nor was it ever something that ever became clear to me thereafter. Clever and intelligent I may be, but something as unfathomable as the abstract love for an entire faceless clan is beyond me. Wholly beyond me. Totally, wholly, entirely beyond me.

Ojii-san had known about this, I think, even if he never directly said anything about it to me nor confronted me about it. But I like to think that he understood how I felt.

That might be why he tried to kill me right after graduation.

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(But see, for all that ojii-san loves, loves, loves this clan like nothing else, he also loves his little granddaughter. Even if it's not to the same extent, not on the same scale, only a mere shadow compared to the vast love he harbors for his beloved clan–

This tiny little sliver of insignificant, fleeting love is the only reason why I survived. It's the only plausible explanation.

… I couldn't understand it.)

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Late spring. Budding leaves on thin branches, silver-light wind whistling through the air.

Graduation.

For most children, graduation is a jubilant time of happiness and pride –for those who graduate, that is, because they can run to their parents and siblings and loved ones and show them the metal forehead protector emblazoned with the insignia of the Leaf. There is a fierce pride that rises in their chests at having lived up to their expectations, of being recognized as a true ninja, of taking the first steps on their path to greatness. They will rise and they will become strong; they will become fighters and protectors and no one will ever dare touch what is theirs. They will serve and defend the village loyally, as its newest generation of most stalwart defenders.

Of course, there are always also exceptions to the norm.

When I am handed my hitai-ite with a smile by the kindly proctor of the test, when the career chuunin who is satisfied with his lot in life says Good work on passing, Madoka-chan, there is a curious lack of… well, anything at all in my chest. There is no happiness. No pride. No excitement. All I remember is the dull acknowledgment of Oh, I passed. It's the same feeling that comes when I look in the kitchen sink and see Oh, there are more dishes to wash. Just another small tick mark on a meaningless checklist, and for a moment, I am so frustrated.

This is not how things are supposed to be.

This is not how things are supposed to be.

I know how this is supposed to go. I'm supposed to be happy. Happy. It's supposed to be this burst of wild excitement that lightens my feet and carries me into the air with delighted laughter. It's supposed to be the mark of a good achievement, something to be proud of. It's not supposed to be nothing, and it's… very disappointing, this reality I find myself faced with.

… Truth be told, perhaps it's all Obito's fault. He himself had experienced that unadulterated joy when he passed and became a Genin, and what he had recounted of the feelings to me –it planted an insidious seed in my mind. If you graduate, you will be happy. Everyone will be happy for you, and you yourself will be happy.

Disappointment is always stronger if you've been expecting something great beforehand; nay, if you desire and hope and–

And in the end, nothing really matters, so I carefully tuck my disappointment away and begin heading back to the Uchiha district.

Nothing matters.

It's just a test.

I passed.

(In retrospect, I can see it. Just as there were few things that truly inspired any true reaction from me, there were also few things that I wanted for. This life as a ninja is something I can be content with, but I easily could've been just as content as a nameless Uchiha baker or seamstress.

In the end, it's only the little things that matter.)

Apathy, you say? Well… yes, it's something like that, I suppose. Apathy, and an inability to understand the thoughts and feelings of others around me –along with the sheer lack of desire to do so most of the time. But let's not get too ahead of ourselves at the moment.

So, walking back on the familiar dirt roads to the Uchiha district on a mild spring day, freshly-graduated and not really feeling much of anything at all besides a sharp disappointment that throbs and fades into nothingness within a few short moments. There is nothing of note that occurs on this walk –loud, crowded, busy streets thin out into smaller ones into silent ones, and then it's the Uchiha district. A few children's voices carried on the wind in the not-so-far distance, the crackling of flames from a nearby Uchiha-run restaurant.

Streets become muddy. Become grass. Become a secluded corner of the district.

Home.

For some, friends are home. For some, blood-family is home. For some, the Clan is home.

(… And for some, Konoha is home. But you would know all about that, wouldn't you?)

From what I've gathered over the years, home is: Safety, warmth. The place one returns to when they are vulnerable and desire somewhere to blot out the rest of the entire world, the place where there are loved ones they cherish and trust and are cherished and trusted by in return. A place of joy, laughter; a small splotch of light in the darkness we thrive in.

I think… a long time ago, ojii-san was my home. He was my home, once. And then he wasn't, because he was gone. A home is someplace, someone, to return to. Where ojii-san has gone is not somewhere I am eager to return to anytime soon; and so he is not my home. Not home. Not anymore.

Home is an anchor. It keeps us grounded and tethered.

Think on that.

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('Do I love ojii-san?' Is that what you're asking me?

Crimson-blooming flowers and timeless circles and an unending cycle of madness. Love, love, love? Flowers blossom madly in rivulets of blood and the rivers run red with those countless thousands upon thousands of blooms, and the entire world drowns. Seven days and seven nights, before the sky shatters.

I love him.

Ojii-san is the one who raised me, for all intents and purposes. Of course I love him. I love the way his gnarled fingers run through my hair, the way I sit at his feet when he takes me to explore the depths of the human mind, the times when he shows me how the pinwheel-flowers bloom in blood. Madoka. Ojii-san is the one who named me. Ojii-san is the one who took care of me. Ojii-san is the one who warned me, even if I did not pay heed to his words at the time, foolish as I was.

(Foolish as I still am.)

I love ojii-san; of course I love ojii-san. How can I not?

I loved ojii-san in life, and now I love him even better in death. Does this answer your question?)

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"What do you think?"

There is the light tremor of hope in Obito's voice as he directs the question at me. His hands are not gesturing around wildly as they are prone to doing; being laden down with grocery bags tends to come along with the little side effect of preoccupying your arms. Of course, that doesn't stop him from radiating the sort of energetic cheer that children are wont to drape over themselves, and Obito wears it better than most. Even burdened as he is by groceries, arms straining against the heavy weights pulling him down, the buoyant air around him is ever-light.

"Rin-san is nice to everyone, Obito. You shouldn't look too much into it," is the response I give him. It's not the one he's looking for, but it's the truth. For a mind twisted by lies and shattered by deceit, truth is all I know. "She has a crush on your other teammate, doesn't she? Hatake-san?"

"Pah! That teme isn't interested in anything but training, training, training! He's such an arrogant prick, Madoka-chan!"

As always, the mention of his other male teammate sends Obito off into a frenzied rant about the ills of Hatake's holier-than-thou ways. How Hatake looks down on him, demeans him, treats him as a joke. The animosity isn't quite as bad as it had been in the initial formation of the team, when Obito and Rin had joined Hatake under the tutelage of Namikaze Minato, but it is still present under the thin veneer of rivalry, from what little I've gathered. Of course I could be wrong, though. Maybe things are really fine, and 'tough love' is the motto of this team. Unusual, but not impossible.

Yet, I had learned how to read people at ojii-san's knees, and when it comes to Obito who I know so well –I do not think I am mistaken here.

"Enough about me, though," Obito switches tracks, shaking his head and offering me a small smile, hiding the frustration he feels with the dynamics of his team. "How's your team doing?"

"Well enough," I acquiesce to the change in topic, though there is not much for me to offer on my end of the conversation.

The tradition of putting new graduates into genin teams under a jounin in Konoha is viewed as more than the creation of a unit; it is the creation of a family. Of course there are bumps and scuffles, but the bonds forged between genin teammates is something special; it is something unique, something more, than what being assigned to teams specifically geared towards certain missions is like. Admittedly, even with the disappointment in the lack of anything I had felt towards graduating –maybe, maybe genin team placements would be different. At least, that was what I'd believed at the time, and that is what I once hoped for.

Here's a bit of advice:

Hope is fine. Hope is good. Just, when you're hoping –make sure that you also brace yourself for disappointment.

They were not bad people, Hiruko and Misaki. Two boys, childhood friends, one of the Nara and another a talented second-generation shinobi of a civilian background. Please don't misunderstand me when I'm saying this; they were good people. Hiruko had the usual slouch and lazy drawl that was stereotypical of the Nara Clan and a razor-sharp mind to match, while Misaki was more soft-spoken with a core of steel hidden underneath that gentle demeanor. We had our rough bumps with each other in the beginning, but we grew to become a good team. We were a good team, and Yuuma-sensei was a good teacher to us.

We just weren't family.

… Or if we were, I must be the only one who didn't get that memo. Because when we sit down in an Akimichi restaurant to celebrate the success of our first C-rank mission, when Hiruko gives that lopsided grin and Misaki smiles brightly and there is something warm and fond in Yuuma-sensei's eyes as he looks at us… I cannot feel it. I cannot feel it. Even though I follow their motions and quirk up the edges of my lips in a socially-expected indication of happiness, even though I shift my body language to convey excitement in order to seem pleased, there is no warmth in my chest.

I know I love ojii-san. When I rest my head on ojii-san's knees as he whispers the secrets of scarlet-blooming flowers and the madness of human minds to me, there is a warmth in the center of my being that is almost a drug, that makes me want, makes me crave for this moment to continue forever and ever and ever. To be with ojii-san and feel the happiness I do in that moment for all of eternity.

I know I love Obito. Maybe not immediately at the moment of our first meeting, but this love is a sort of love that grows. It's subtle and slow and almost unnoticeable, but one day when you're walking behind him and he turns around with the brightest smile and grabs your hands, drags you to sneak more persimmons off the back porch, and in that moment you realize something. You realize that there's something warm and giddy and bright that lights up inside you whenever you're around him, and you realize that this is love.

So I know for a fact that I am not entirely without feeling; contrary to what others might say of me nowadays, I do feel. I feel most keenly. But the way I feel appears to be different from that of how others feel, and in some ways on some days, feeling is so hard.

Hiruko and Misaki and Yuuma-sensei. I do like them. Yuuma-sensei's teachings are instructive, if different from ojii-san's ways, and Hiruko and Misaki are good teammates. We get along well. We work together effectively. We make a good team. There should be nothing for me to complain about in such a situation, but there is.

I don't understand why, I cannot even begin to comprehend why… but I cannot seem to love them as anything more than people whom I am familiar with and interact with on a constant basis. They feel like acquaintances and not family and in some ways it's almost sad, because I cannot love them the same way I am loved by them, and surely loving, if it's loving them, would be a very wonderful thing.

… Ahh, who am I kidding?

I still remember it, y'know. How this seemingly-perfect team broke apart. It started with a trip to Suna, guarding a caravan, C-rank with a few other genin teams from our year. A mission to familiarize ourselves with others of our generation so we would grow comfortable with each other and build a sense of camaraderie. And it was due to a bit of misinformation about the enemy we faced that things went wrong; instead of typical bandits, it was an organization of missing-nin whom we faced.

Hiruko died in midst of the chaos. He died saving Misaki. I had been clear on the other side of the field assisting another team, as that was where I had been when the ambush was sprung on us. Yuuma-sensei had been held up by the higher-ranked missing-nin in the fray with the other jounin-sensei.

It's a very typical story. Things like this happen a lot. A genin teammate sacrifices himself to save another, and so the remainders of the team must pick themselves up again in wake of his death and move on.

And so we moved on.

And yes I was sad, yes I was mourning for my recently-deceased teammate, yes I comforted Misaki with empty words like It's okay and Not your fault, but I was also never more pleased by the fact that I didn't love Hiruko. I am not ashamed of admitting that, because it is the truth.

When Obito found out about the mission and sprinted to where I now lived alone in ojii-san's house, the first thing he did upon bursting into the room and spotting me was to seize me in a hug and start breathlessly whispering Are you alright oh gods that must've been frightening I'm so glad you're still here so sorry for your loss so happy you're alive–

It's completely inappropriate, but I smile. Obito does not see the happy expression, and I do not enlighten him about my thoughts. There is no need to.

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Misaki abandons the shinobi career, which comes as a surprise to me, knowing his never-give-up character. Prior to the disaster of a C-rank to Suna, that is. Yuuma-sensei decides to make a go for ANBU. The latter fact isn't so surprising.

"Your physical abilities are below average, but your genjutsu is really something special. Good chakra control, too," is what Yuuma-sensei says to me in our last official team meeting. "I would advise finding a genjutsu specialist to apprentice under, or you could also give medical jutsu a go. Keep in touch with Misaki, alright? Even though he's not officially part of Konoha's shinobi forces anymore, he's still your teammate. He needs you more than you know."

It's true, but also untrue. Misaki doesn't need someone who can pretend to sympathize; he needs someone who can truly empathize, and that someone is Yuuma. Not me. Yuuma would understand his suffering. I can only mimic the behavior of others, because I don't feel for Hiruko's death the way a teammate ought to.

Coward.

"Are you sure, sensei?" I ask, because he's not dumb, he knows what I mean. But all he responds with is a weak smile, the smile of a broken man –a man who has lost friends and lost teammates and lost family, and has now lost his student as well. He's a bit of a lost man, Yuuma-sensei, but for someone like him, maybe he can find himself in ANBU again.

Misaki, though. I wonder how Misaki will find himself again?

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In the panicked heat of the Suna missing-nin skirmish, our team was not the only one that experienced loss. Some teams broke apart just as ours did, others re-forged themselves from the broken pieces left behind and became all the stronger for it. But I digress; the only true impact that this event had on me was that I took the Chuunin Exams with a new team that had found themselves one member too short for the tests, and that was that.

"Knew you'd pass, Madoka-chan!" Obito cheers when I return to ojii-san's empty house, after the exams have finally come to a close. "Just you wait. You might be ahead of me for now, but you bet I'll catch up soon!"

"Okay," I smile, because I rather like the idea of walking beside Obito. So I don't say anything like You'd better hurry or I'll be waiting for you, because that's not what I mean. What comes from me instead is a simple, "Let's do our best together, then."

Because we are not invincible or infallible or immortal; doing our best is all we can do. We can only lift our chins and look forward to the brilliantly blazing sunrise ahead, and no matter what struggles or troubles twine around our ankles to hold us down, we must keep walking forward, side by side. There will always be tomorrow and tomorrow and the moment of today.

In that particular moment, though, just the two of us sitting down at the table and eating curry together for dinner in a mundane scene that has replayed hundreds of times before, it feels like we can take on the world. It's a rather nice feeling, and I decide that I like it.

Three days later, Konoha declares war.

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Author's Notes:

Second chapter complete. (Throws confetti) Took a lot longer than I expected, but RL has been very, very busy. Let's just leave it at that.

Still some jumping around in narration here, but we're progressing with the storyline in a mostly-linear manner, starting from a quick overview of genin times and more insight into the OC's character. Some things will be elaborated on and clarified in later chapters, so if you're curious about stuff that got glossed over, they will most likely be revisited in more detail later. ;3 Feel free to still leave comments on things you'd like clarified, though. And on that note, I have no idea if I'm going to be able to finish this thing in only 5 chapters. Still want to keep things short, though. Goals, man.

Next two chapters or so should still be T I think, but we might be hitting M after that, so. Fair warning here! Even if it might not be entirely accurate, but the M-rating is something that the story will be bumped up to later on. I will also mention it at the beginning of the chapter when that happens.

EDIT: The M rating is for disturbing content, gore, etc. It is NOT for smut. That's not my cup of tea.

Aiming to update this fic a few more times over summer. Hopefully. :D

NOTE: On the topic of updates, OTD (KHR OC fic) has been recently updated, so remember to check that out on my profile if you're interested! :D


QUESTION: Any thoughts on the narrative in comparison to the first chapter? Things you like, things you hated? Feedback would be greatly appreciated!


Haven't edited this yet, so help in pointing out errors in the text would be greatly appreciated. :3

Till next time,

XxZuiliu