A/N: I'm sorry for the delay with the chapter. Thank you for the reviews! :)
CHAPTER THREE
Somehow, Masaru's departure didn't go as I expected. After an early morning farewell, the compound continued its day-to-day routine with a tenacity that surprised me. I found myself letting the normalcy take me in, until wedding preparations and lessons filled my days. I missed my brother, but I learned quickly that life doesn't stop to wait for the return of our soldiers. Hahaue helped me accept it, in her usual quiet, subtle ways.
She acted strong and steady, the foundation of the house, maintaining order and discipline. But, maybe because Masaru wasn't at home and Ayumu was busy receiving more detailed tutoring in his combat specialization, she began to keep me at her side more often than not. She liked to keep me nearby, as if afraid I would go next. And that was the way my impromptu lessons in housekeeping began, with me following her lead around our home and learning from observing the other women.
I was of a divided opinion about the lessons. On one hand, they were useful and marked the beginning of my education; I was slowly and carefully instructed in reading, cooking and sewing, even if my hands were clumsy with unaccustomed work and my attention span was woefully lacking in regards to the more traditional classes, as I also was expected to learn calligraphy, ikebana and the tea ceremony.
My developed mind took easily to tasks such as cooking and sewing, and I particularly liked the last; reading and calligraphy were interesting learning experiences and true challenges, but I had the drive to succeed. Unfortunately, my good will ended when I needed to remember all the little nuances of the tea ceremony and I was absolutely terrible at ikebana. I thought many times that my previous Western upbringing probably clashed with my teachings at the time, and so my sense of aesthetics was considered… Nonexistent. I had a good memory for flower meanings – hanakotoba –, but I didn't like to prune and pick at those beautiful flowers; I preferred to arrange whole, colorful bouquets. I almost drove my teachers at the time insane, of course, even if in my young age I wasn't expected to take to my tasks with quite so much seriousness.
On the other hand, though, those lessons troubled me. They obviously negated whatever notion I could have entertained of following the shinobi path. Though, I hadn't made a decision yet. I wasn't ready.
When I thought about my family and all the non-shinobi members the Uchiha Clan protected I wanted to be strong enough to guard them. But my life prior to the strange circumstances I found myself in held me back; I knew I wasn't prepared for it. I had had a secure, sheltered life before. I never thought about the possibility of killing, applied to myself or anyone else. Intellectually, I could understand the concept; it wasn't hard to kill a person, in the physical aspect. For all the wonders of the human body, it was weak. We could adapt to extreme conditions, but at the same time one slip of the feet could mean certain death, if the injury was in a place critical enough.
The problem was that I trembled in absolute terror when I thought about having to fight to survive. I had been coddled by years of technological progress and a society that valued security and comfort above everything else. Sure, we had murders and accidents, but of course it wouldn't happen to me. Hundreds of generations that hadn't had the need to hunt, to fight or flee, or to actively use their body to survive, had dulled my instincts to curious reactions that weren't necessary anymore. Food was bought, we had heavy punishments that many times prevented violent situations and we lived in highly populated areas, in the heart of civilization, where no being was superior to the human being.
When the time came, I didn't know for sure if I wouldn't just freeze in panic and stand there, to passively be slaughtered. I didn't know if I could internalize the notion of surviving by killing that this place taught, destroying years upon years of social education and moral programming.
However, despite all of it, I had the security blanket of knowing that, if I was determined to follow in my brothers and father's footsteps, I could. And even if it was evident that I would go to the battlefield to be summarily killed, I still had the option. I didn't like that door suddenly being closed in my face, even if I was already one step inside door number two without choosing. Losing my liberty of choice made me want to rebel in reflex, not let such important decision rest in the hands of others.
Even so, what could I possibly do at the time? I didn't have enough surety to fight with all my being for that choice, and the hardships of the shinobi life were ones that scared me. I didn't know how to stop this course of action, and I didn't want to… In a very subconscious way. Looking back, maybe it was unfair to judge the males of my family. I was fairly predictable in my sheer pigheadedness as well.
And that explained what I was doing one early morning, more or less one month after Masaru's departure, the cold breeze of dawn making me shiver. The sun was trying to shine above the mountains, and the sky was a milky gray to the east, slowly chasing away the deep blue of night and the fog closer to the ground, but still too far away to warm the earth. The stars blinked above my head and a low hanging full moon was clearly visible. I looked around, worried with any sound louder than the crickets, knowing that I wasn't supposed to be there, asking myself what I was thinking.
The metal in my hand tinkled softly in the still silence; I couldn't see anyone. I couldn't be so sure about any shinobi that could be guarding the compound at that hour, but I figured that, if they hadn't stopped me, they probably didn't know I was there. Or maybe they were curious about what stupid, foolish thing I was going to do. I was also interested in founding out, actually.
I thought about the three kunai in my hand. I had taken them while sneaking about with Madara. Our latest adventure had been in one of Chichiue's forbidden rooms, but now that he wasn't there we considered them safe to explore. Turned out we had an armory, besides a dojo. The weapons inside were beautifully made, all in shining metal and dangerous curves, in many varied forms. While there, we noticed a line of kunai and shuriken above a wooden table, obviously just polished, which was perfect for us. I suppose I should have thought more about it, being the responsible adult, but I was as amazed as little Madara-chan, and as curious. So we took the kunai and shuriken, wrapped them in some rags used for cleaning and ran to our room like two thieves, doubled over so that no one could see our treasure.
It had been three days since, and I was growing restless. I had thought for a moment to ask for Ayumu-nii's help, but he had been training hard those days. I think that seeing Masaru go on a mission drove home the fact that he would be the one going out there next. It made me worry about him, because I knew my brothers. Ayumu wasn't like Masaru; he wasn't ready. I feared greatly for him in more ways than the physical one, like with our older brother. I trusted the last to have boundaries, to have the maturity to rise above all the blood, to have the temperament to float instead of sink. Ayumu may have the skill to survive, even if he wasn't a prodigy like Masaru, but he was a child in every sense of the word. I wasn't sure Ayumu would return whole after a mission, and it scared me.
So, I decided that I wouldn't make Ayumu waste his time with me. Sure, it was dangerous, however I wasn't really an almost two year old child, so I figured I was safe from anything like cutting my fingers off accidentally. My dexterity was still limited and the kunai seemed huge in my little fingers, but I was determined to at least begin to train with them. Who knew, maybe I had a hidden talent? Uchiha sure had a lot of those…
I separated one of the throwing knives, keeping the other two secured in my left hand. I blinked at the kunai in my other hand, weighting it and thinking about the right way to hold it. They were huge in my tiny little fists, seeming too big for me to throw them; the metal probably wasn't as heavy as it felt to me, but when I fisted my hand around the small handle, my fingers didn't reach each other. Distracted, I let the two other kunai fall to the ground, taking the one in my hands closer.
The sound wasn't really loud against the floor of beaten earth, but in the utter silence of our backyard it was like thunder to my senses. I looked around, trying to determine if anyone had heard it, but of course I couldn't be sure. After five minutes of holding my breath and not daring to move an inch, I finally relaxed when no one came running to see if enemy ninja had invaded the compound.
I looked down at the kunai in my hand, now irritated and tense with the situation. Training was being more stressful than I thought it should be, and I almost turned around and forgot the crazy idea. With a tired sigh, I let my head fall, slowly inspiring the smell of dew and revolved earth.
I felt the sharp edges of the cold metal, careful not to cut myself. The handle was tightly wrapped in what felt like some kind of thick cloth, which made sense, because we didn't have any other adherent material. The cloth made for good gripping, and it didn't slip even against the sweat in the palms of my hands.
I tried to think how I was supposed to throw it. I kept gripping it like it was a normal knife from my old world, but I didn't want to go eat supper with my enemies. I gave a frustrated huff and felt for the balance on the center of the kunai. It was perfect, of course. I thought about it for a moment and just took it in an instinctive grip, like I was really going to throw it, without thinking, just doing it.
The balance changed, now I could feel the weight in my wrist, but there wasn't impulse, because my whole body had to follow the action for it to be effective. I looked at my feet, thinking half-memories of how to change my body's center of gravity, not knowing if I was doing it right, but having to try. I supposed I should have a good foundation, or my own weight would follow the throw and I would just overbalance and fall forward, so I brought my left foot forward, resting on the right one.
I swayed from one foot to the other, changing my equilibrium back and forth. I wasn't as firm as I should be, but my coordination couldn't compare to that of an adult and it was to be expected. Anyway, it was the best I could do. My shoulders probably had to rotate to give my arm more speed.
I prepared, my heart beating hard against my ribs. I was excited about it, even if I couldn't imagine throwing a weapon at another human being.
I took my stance, left feet on the front, hand at the height of the shoulders, hips slightly turned for more impulse. I changed my center to the front and let the kunai fly… Or I tried. It tumbled to the ground harmlessly and almost took me with it. The target was more or less ten feet away from me and it just flopped to the bare earth less than one foot from my hand. My pride stung and I glared at the knife like it was at fault. It seemed I didn't have the prodigy gene for that kind of thing, then. I supposed it could be a recessive trait…
"That was terrible… Seriously, where did you learn how to throw a kunai? Did you even learn?" the unexpected question made me jump and turn around quickly. My breathe was coming in gasps and my heart hammered away in my chest, adrenaline making me feel like running or punching the kid that had scared me so bad.
When I saw him, I immediately relaxed. For a moment, I had thought it was Ayumu-onii-san. I wouldn't have heard the end of it if he had caught me trying so pitifully to throw a kunai. Instead, a boy around Masaru's age was sitting atop one of the barrels littering the backyard, full with vegetables or rain water for the garden.
The kid had a strange hair, the color of snow – not silver or gray, like someone of old age, but pure white. He could be an Uchiha, too, if not for that color; his hair certainly was as unruly as mine, but his was worse, cut close to his head and standing up all around. He had dark eyebrows, framing his gleaming eyes of solid brown, and a knowing smirk that just made my bad temper flare even more. His clothes were simple and dirty, but the material wasn't cheap, and it made alarm bells sound in my head.
The majority of the people living in the compound were non-combatant members and shinobi stationed for guarding or just treating an injury. The civilians wore simple clothes of easily acquired materials, so that they had everything they needed inside the compound. The shinobi wore clothes of muted colors too, but they were sturdier and made for durability. They could go for days without washing and many months before beginning to fray.
The boy was wearing shinobi attire, but even if the colors were normal enough, the style was different from what I had seen so far, and gave me pause. I eyed him warily, half of me analyzing his easy posture, trying to determine if he was combat trained, and the other half scoffing at my growing paranoia. That place was getting to me faster than I thought possible.
"Are you retarded? I mean, everyone knows the Uchiha had a girl but no one heard anything about one more shinobi being trained. Is it because you're… You know, not right in the head?" asked the boy, interrupting my silent analysis.
"Excuse me?" I demanded, wanting nothing more but to take one of the kunai on the floor and train my aim with him as the target. But he just laughed off my glare, completely relaxed. "I will have you know I'm perfectly fine in my head. I'm just not… Gifted in the shinobi arts."
"Oh, I see. So you just suck at it, eh?" he said, all wide, innocent eyes with smirk firm in place.
"Why, you little piece of…" I snarled, giving one step forward to follow my plan of punching the brat. He jumped off the barrel, but didn't move away; he wasn't worried about me, and it showed in the ease of his movements, the line of his shoulders and face. He wasn't preparing to fight, but to humor me.
"I never thought I would hear such words coming from an ojou-sama!" he exclaimed in false surprise, and immediately turning mischievous again he added, "Never mind such a tiny one."
I glared at him with fierce dislike, from his unkempt appearance to the knowing smirk still firm in his face. I wanted to know who he thought he was to come to my house and insult me, daughter of Uchiha Tajima himself. It gave me pause for a moment, because I hadn't been expecting that kind of reaction out of myself. It was the first time in this life – the first I remember of – that someone had been so rude and dismissive to me.
With a start, I realized I didn't know who this boy was. In this age and time, it was a foolish thing to forget, and to keep on talking to him when he could be here to assassinate my family during sleep was even more so. Every warning my father had thought to give me and Madara before going went flaring through my head and suddenly, I was afraid of the unruly child in front of me.
"Who are you?" I whispered, taking a step back, feeling the kunai against my heels. In my mind, I cursed my kimono, utterly impractical in that kind of situation. Even if I ran, I would fall few steps later, my legs entangling with the delicate but stifling layers of my clothes.
"Ah, you finally caught on," he responded with ease, resting his body against the damp wood of the barrel. He wasn't attacking, but his body gave off a sense of alertness, like he could in an instant be behind me, slitting my throat open. It made me swallow convulsively against the ghost sensation of those cold, cold weapons in contact with the soft tissue of my neck. "I was beginning to worry, really. There is no place for little, naïve girls in this world. You had me scared for a moment there."
His roguish smile wasn't infuriating anymore. Now it made me shiver when I noticed, for the first time, that they showed off teeth too sharp to be human, his canines appearing above his bottom lip in a menacing fashion. I didn't know if he was making fun of or threatening me. For all I knew, he was a little psychopath who liked the smell of fear on his victims.
I felt how my knees trembled and my hands were cold with the sweat cooling in contact with the air still not warmed by the sun. I felt breathless, as if my lungs needed more oxygen than I could give them, and I couldn't stop the sick feeling spreading inside me while my heart beat frantically. My muscles quivered and half my brain was preoccupied with its options, assessing my surroundings for a chance to escape, searching for that precious moment when I could turn around and enter the house.
Like it would help. Like the flimsy paper walls could protect me against the physical prowess of a shinobi using chakra to enhance his physique. How could I possibly survive that attack? I was powerless and unprepared. The sense of irony wasn't lost in me, when I thought about my conviction in following the exact path that would lead me, someday, to the other side of the backyard, observing my target with the same keen attention, waiting for the perfect moment to strike. It made me sick.
We were at a standstill, the tension thick in the air. Minutes had passed but it felt like hours, and I battled with myself against the urge to just scream for some Clan member, hoping that the kid –… No, the shinobi hadn't killed them. I wanted Ayumu, or Hahaue, or even Chinatsu-san to come looking for me and to save me from the enemy shinobi, just smiling with all his teeth.
A sudden howl broke the air, as abrupt as a knife. I felt it in my guts, resonating around me, reverberating against the buildings. The fog made every sound distorted, closer somehow than it really was.
The air escaped me in one big rush, and every nerve in my body stood at attention. I was going to run away, fast. Scream as hard as I could and just awake the whole compound. I was just so scared I stayed immobile, useless. I saw a series of events play in front of my eyes, but I still couldn't move. It didn't seem real. It wasn't real. Why was it happening? Why hadn't someone…
"Dammit, Gekko!" the boy snarled, turning around to somewhere in the west. He startled me out of my desperate thought processes. "God damned needy pup… Doesn't get out of my hair even when I tell him to stay and shut up… Hey, ojou-sama! Even you would get that, right?"
I only stared at him, flabbergasted with how unthreatening he appeared to be, when moments before I was certain he would kill me without blinking an eye. The nickname was still aggravating – as was him as a whole – and I had to force myself not to forget the deceitful ways of the shinobi, not to let my mind be clouded by his act.
A new round of howls echoed to us, bringing with it a series of curses and complaints that the boy wasn't ashamed to spill in his loud and boisterous ways. I felt sorry for the… Creature. Wolf, maybe, but I wasn't sure. I worried for a moment, thinking of the possibility of it being a sign for reinforcements to attack the sleeping compound, but the sound was somehow more acute, less a call for the kill and more a plead. Maybe it was calling out for its master? This would explain my would-be assassin's temper.
It also made me think that there was no way the brat was there to kill anyone. No good shinobi would bring such a huge liability to the field, risking discovery and execution. Maybe he was just an apprentice. I felt his mentor was probably expecting it would kill him, send him to the heart of the hidden Uchiha compound for a mission. I could understand the urge, really, but I thought it unlikely.
That in turn gave me pause, again. Why and how did he know where to found the headquarters of the Uchiha Clan?
"Who are you?" I asked again, finally beginning to reign in my body's overreactions. I was proud to notice my voice was small but not afraid. I was in control again, and I refused to let some runt shake me. I was an adult and I would act my age, and not be humiliated by brain-washed children soldiers.
"Huh? I didn't tell you yet?" he turned to me with a confused expression, sheepishly messing his bird nest of a hair. He puffed up, lifting his chin, trademark smirk in place, the tip of his sharp canines peeking under his lip. "My name is Kegawa, of the most powerful Clan in all the western lands, the Inuzuka!"
I stared at him for a moment. My thought processes halted in part by his excited exclamation, but mostly by the utter oddness of my predicament. Why was an Inuzuka of all things sneaking around my Clan's compound at the crack of dawn? It explained the howling, however what was he doing there? Also…
"Kegawa?" I repeated slowly, staring pointedly at his strange hair color. Fur? His parents obviously weren't creative in the naming department.
"You know, 'cause of the hair," he answered, lowering his head and pointing at his own gravity-defying white mane.
"Huh," I muttered in thinly concealed disdain, trying to think about something intelligent to answer that with. I shook my head, determined to get past my lost focus and concentrate in the important things. "What are you doing here?"
"Oh, I didn't tell you yet?" he said in the same tone of voice he had used before. An insignificant stray thought crossed my mind that it would be an annoying habit to endure in cases of long periods of exposure to Kegawa. "I'm a scout for your Clan, you see? Had a bit of a mission going on, but me and Gekko, we already finished that. I was to report to my contact, a guy I don't see has some time now. I thought it would be smart to check it with the bosses and skip all the crap with liaisons. I'm not intruding, am I?"
"Not at all," I said in a dry tone in response, hoping that he would hear the sarcasm but dismissing the notion when he just looked around with wide eyes.
"Why are you alone, anyway? Shouldn't you have some guards and shit?" his incredulous questions made me smile a little. He seemed to have a distorted notion of the Clan, if he thought something so foolish. Certainly he didn't believe that I was actually called ojou-sama and had bodyguards? Besides, we were in the main compound, in the heart of Uchiha territory. There wasn't idiocy enough accumulated in a single shinobi that would make him come unprepared and uninvited to the Clan's headquarters… And then there was Kegawa.
"Guards and shit?" I repeated with an innocent expression. "No, I'm pretty sure I'm alone now. Maybe you should stay and guard me, hmm, dog-boy?"
"I'm not a dog, I have a dog! It's different, shit, different!" he yelled, moving his arms about and doing a lot of unnecessary noise. I panicked for a moment, running the few feet between us and throwing myself at him to just make him stop for a minute. It shocked him into silence and let me strain to hear something else besides his noisy breathing. "Ojou-sama, what are you doing?"
"Quiet, dog-boy, you're going to attract all kinds of attention if you don't stop barking," I growled at him, clenching my hands in his clothe and hoping to get at some skin. Maybe I could beat some sense in the kid. What more could I do for him to understand that I was there pretty much unsupervised and without permission?
"What?" he exclaimed in a loud whisper. I glared up at him, still not letting go. I was more scared of Chinatsu-san than I was of a would-be shinobi anyway. I watched his expression slowly turn suspicious, already expecting his words when they came. "Ojou-sama, are you allowed to be out there, training with kunai all by yourself?"
I stayed quiet, just looking him in the eye and trying my best to make my face expressionless. I was a horrible liar, and for all I knew he could just smell the nervous sweat in my skin or hear my rapid heartbeat and catch me, anyway. However, I couldn't stop chanting inside my head for some deity to intervene and stop his thought processes and suddenly assessing eyes.
"You are so screwed," he said with slow relish, his grin widening to show all his teeth.
To say Chinatsu-san was angry would be an understatement; more so than Hahaue even, who appeared happy to let him handle the situation. Ayumu, on the other hand, was ominously silent, his dark eyes sharp, spearing the side of my head. His little, but not at all weak, body loomed alone in the corner of the room we used when receiving guests, waiting for his chance to give me a piece of his mind.
"… your fingers! Could have been killed by an infiltrating enemy! Do you have any idea of how stupid you were?" Chinatsu-san was repeating herself, but I abstained from pointing it out, thinking it would be smarter to let her vent her anger. Kegawa wasn't of the same thought.
"Yeah, yeah, you already said that. Can you think up something more depressing that could've happened to Ojou-sama?"
"What? Listen here, you little piece of…" Ayumu's temporary stoic countenance broke, interrupting whatever Chinatsu-san was about to growl at Kegawa.
"Ayumu, please, watch your language," Hahaue's soft rebuke broke Ayumu's tirade in the same instant.
"Huh, you really are siblings," spoke Kegawa, turning to look from Ayumu to me. I ignored Ayumu's somewhat startled expression and Chinatsu-san's renewed attempt to flay me with her gaze, but blushed under Hahaue's small, knowing smile. Kegawa turned to Ayumu-nii-san, staring him in the eye with seriousness. "Listen, I don't know much 'bout the Uchiha, but kids at home get at least some liberty."
"She's one, you dumbass!" snapped Ayumu, interrupting dog-boy. Kegawa glared but surprisingly didn't respond to the urge of immersing himself in a name-calling contest.
"And she's a damn smart one-year old, too," he barked back. "She's fine, everything's fine. Lay off a little. 'Sides, she was on the right track to nail that kunai… Just give her a year or two and she'll also know how to do it right." I glowered at him for his comment when he turned to smirk at me.
"I understand your point, Inuzuka-kun," Hahaue's voice made me turn immediately in her direction. "Nevertheless, Kazumi is too young. I think you realize my reticence in letting her train alone and unsupervised. I also think that you will understand, Kazumi, that for that you will be punished."
"What?" I let slip, blinking at her. It wasn't that I hadn't been punished before, but I never saw my trying to throw a kunai as something dangerous. I wasn't really one year old, and even if Hahaue didn't know how developed my mind was, I was considered a genius in my own right. She should have known that I wasn't doing it for the pleasure of causing havoc. But when she turned to me with a slight frown I blushed and looked down.
"Yes, you are. Furthermore, you will never again enter your father's armory, or your punishment will be worse," I had never heard her speak like that before; her tone of voice was quiet and low, but her demeanor was serious. When she spoke, her words were slow and precise. "You will abstain from watching your brother's training sessions without permission from now on. Clearly, your judgment is lacking despite all the warnings about the dangers of training, and I can't trust you to understand that it isn't a game."
It hurt, to hear the disappointment in her voice. I couldn't breathe past the lump in my throat and my eyes stung like they hadn't since my time as a scared and confused baby. My stomach was full of lead and I felt the need to expel it rise until my mouth was full of bile. I clenched my fingers in the fabric of my kimono and swallowed, trying to dispel the water from my vision, refusing to let the tears fall.
"Yes, Hahaue," I tried to say in as precise a voice as she had used while destroying my short-lived dreams of power and independency, but it was a broken whisper that stumbled out of my mouth. The too quiet air in the room made me fill my face become hot and red with shame, but I didn't lower my head. She didn't answer, just nodding somberly in my direction before turning to the others.
"Chinatsu-san, if you would be so kind as to tell the maids to prepare a bedroom for our guest and draw a warm bath for him, I would be grateful. Ayumu, you are going to be late for your training session with Sora-kun; you mustn't be late, it would be poor behavior, so go. Inuzuka-kun, I am sorry to tell you that my husband isn't at home now, but I offer you my house for recovery and rest."
"I thank you for your hospitality, Uchiha-sama," Kegawa's voice was completely different, even if the respectful words didn't match his gruff way of talking.
I stayed quiet while they filtered out of the room. I didn't rise to follow them, seeing as Hahaue was still seated, clearly expecting to continue our talk. I thought about escaping anyway; I was small enough and I could found Madara and escape to some of the more unused corners of the house. He would like that; it had been some time since our last adventure.
I was startled out of my thoughts when I was suddenly engulfed in my mother's warm arms, her smell filling the air around me, the feeling of the kimono's fabric familiar against me. It was one of her favorites, and I remember the sensation of it against my too sensitive newborn skin.
I felt my face become hot and red again, fisting my hands in the cloth and burring myself in her stomach, trying to stop any tears from coming. I wasn't that weak, but it had been some time since my last break down. It happened sometimes, when the whole situation caught up with me. I had bad days and I had normal days, but the past was always lurking in the back of my mind. And I didn't have anyone who I could turn to with my thoughts, not even my rock and safe haven, my mother in this world.
Masaru's departure; the pressure of a shinobi life, like a shadow, looming over every moment; my encounter not only with Inuzuka Kegawa – which for some reason drove home with terrible accuracy the fact that yes, I would be seeing characters from a manga from now on in the flesh, destroying any subtle attempt of my subconscious to dwell in psychological theories to explain that impossible situation – but also with my own blatant weakness. I couldn't be a ninja while retaining my old world's beliefs and attitudes. To have Hahaue's disappointment in me for even trying thrown in my face made me feel like the ground beneath my feet was shaking and falling apart.
Where was I supposed to lean for support? Nowhere. I didn't have a safe place to run to or someone I trusted enough to turn to with those kinds of problems. So I just stayed there, in my mother's embrace, drowning the overbearing pressure that I was guilty of putting in myself, but didn't know how to let go. Just for a moment, I let the fantasy stay in place, returning to the old belief that there, nothing bad could ever happen.
There Masaru would return home, and Ayumu wouldn't ever need to deal with blood in his little, child fingers, and Madara wouldn't turn mad with pain and hatred. Maybe I wouldn't die and the Uchiha Clan wouldn't be decimated until we had only one last member. I didn't have to worry about wars and blood feuds or killing attempts. It was as safe as any illusion you could imagine.
"What… Do you think strength means, Kazumi?" Hahaue's halting voice broke it, cutting through that world. I couldn't be angry with her for it, not really. In that way laid madness, and that I couldn't afford. I tried to think about it, to rise above the turmoil.
"To… To have the power to protect others?" I whispered in her belly, but it sounded more like a question than an answer. She hummed, the sound amplified against my ears, and ran her fingers through my tangled hair.
"That's a good answer," she said softly, but I could hear the reticence in her voice. It was a good answer, but it wasn't as simple as that. I knew it, she knew it, but, in the end, it was what motivated me to try and train alone. It was the answer she would be looking for, so I gave it to her without further encouragement. "Some people, even grown-up people, think that to be strong is to have the means to protect themselves. Others that it means to be the best, and rise above the weaker."
"They think strength equals power," I interjected, rising my head a little to look her in the eye. She gave a wide smile, a proud one that warmed me inside and calmed down some of the storm in my mind.
"Yes, they do. Because when you aim to protect yourself out of self-interest or you seek only leverage for your own purposes, it is the kind of strength they understand is needed. Truthfully, that was the downfall of many a Clan in the past, and it will continue to plague men many years in the future."
A part of me agreed with her, having seen where that kind of mentality could lead someone. Another part, however, was becoming suspicious and trying to figure out where she wanted to stir the conversation to. Wherever it was, I had a feeling I knew the final destination. It made me rebel against the notion, and I wanted to lash out and walk away. I didn't want to hear her excuses for forbidding me of following the shinobi path my father and brothers had taken; because it was exactly what she was trying to do.
"But…" she hesitated for a moment, appearing to think about introducing her real thoughts, maybe thinking about a way to explain the right concepts to her one year old daughter. "But we know that it isn't the only kind of strength. There's more to being strong than power, Kazumi. I want you to think about the wars happening right now. Do you think that shinobi are strong?"
"Of course," I answered without having to think about it, now paying attention to what she was saying. It wasn't what I had been expecting, and I wanted to know where she was going with it. If she was implying shinobi sought power for the sake of power, she was absolutely wrong. I thought about Masaru, and how he was fighting for the Clan, how he made me promise I would continue to protect it if he someday failed to return home. I could appreciate the strength of the shinobi because I could see the sacrifices my brothers made and remember the suffering others would go through in the future, just to protect their loved ones.
"Well, then, what do you think of those that stay behind?" she asked, looking me in the eye, trying to convey something with her expression. I frowned, because it felt like a trick question, but I couldn't see the trap.
"They aren't as strong as shinobi," I said slowly, trying to see beyond the obvious, searching for that clue in her eyes.
"They aren't as powerful as shinobi," she said in return, a cutting edge hidden behind her serene expression. I blinked at it, trying to understand where it came from; then I remembered Chichiue. His views on his civilian wife probably weren't very flattering. "Do you remember when Asuka-san lost her child?"
I winced in her arms. I remembered that. Asuka-san was one of my mother's closest friends. From what I knew they had grown up together. Asuka-san had married a shinobi, and they had three sons. Hahaue said that they were deeply in love, and so Asuka-san ignored her family's warning that she shouldn't, because she could be widowed any time. But the shinobi had lived, and they were a happy couple. Until war came again, and the shinobi was killed early on. She was devastated, but she couldn't crumble to the ground and live in sorrow, because she needed to raise her three children. The oldest one was called for a mission shortly after, even if he wasn't older than ten and barely trained. He didn't return.
Even then, Asuka-san knew that the Clan could call her other two children, because in times of war it is customary to train some kids and throw them in the battlefield. So, even if she was terrified of losing her remaining sons, she knew that when the time came her family would have to give their lives for the Clan. It was the inheritance of her children, their duty in the place of their father. So she found ways to train them, hiring shinobi out of combat and begging others for orientation. She needed to work to sustain the household, and to further her sons' study, and so she did, becoming one of the Clan's best seal makers, actually, even if I don't understand how it had been possible.
In the end, she lost everything. Her younger boy survived a year before being ambushed and her middle son was encountered disfigured by torture, barely alive. He didn't betray the Clan. He didn't survive, though, even with our healers' best efforts. By then, an accident with a poorly made seal took her right hand's mobility. She was a stern and tough woman, made so by life, but after her last son's burial, she came to our home and broke down in front of mother. It was… Horrible to see. How someone could be reduced by circumstance in that way. Her desperation and sadness, her clouded eyes and jerking motions. The wails, the calls, the nightmares.
She could have – in my opinion, she should have – blamed the Clan for the death of her children, one after the other. She could have stayed there, in despair, letting her life pass by or even worse, she could have killed herself. However, after a month, she came back, this time with a seal array she was experimenting with, to help the Clan in the war effort.
Asuka-san was strong, as well. Strong in a way I wasn't sure I could be. When I thought about losing my family, any one of them, I felt like my interior was being sucked into a void. I was fighting against destiny fiercely, but I was also teetering in the edge of a dangerous cliff, clinging to my life now just to stop me from being pulled into my old self, where I would start to question the very reality I lived in. I didn't know what would happen if someday I lost one of my tethers to sanity and stability.
"I understand," I murmured, not really realizing the amount of time I had spent quiet.
"No, not yet," her reply startled me, but when I looked at her there wasn't frustration in her face. She smiled in a bittersweet way. "But you will, someday."
She kissed my forehead, squeezing me in her arms with slightly more force, before standing with her usual grace. She passed a hand through the kimono's folds, rearranging any wrinkled cloth, and left the room with silent footsteps, returning to her duties.
What she didn't understand, though, was that I needed to be powerful. How could I help my brothers if I couldn't be by their sides? How could I hope to protect them if I was imprisoned by the compound's walls?
Masaru wanted to be strong for others, to have the power to guard us. I had that desire inside of me too, and I wouldn't abandon my family or my Clan to their fates. I wouldn't stay put and let the story follow its course. I would challenge the whole world if necessary, and I would do my very best to make sure I won.
Until then, as they used to say in my old world, one step at a time. I resolved to search for my neglected younger brother, hoping that he wasn't up to anything too dangerous.
I finally found him in one of our more recluse settings, the tea garden. Ours was a small, intimate one, and the lush vegetation was beautiful in the summer, full of the sweet smell of flowers and the sound of the cicadas filling the air. It also tended to be seldom used, only when noble dignitaries came from the daimyo's court to pay a visit to one of the most powerful Clans of the land. He was out of the path weaving seamlessly through the plants and flowers.
I heard him before seeing his small form. He was in a small clearing, made out of the way, but easily found with a little more investigation. There was a pound with still, clear water reflecting the gray sky like a mirror, and a circle of not very tall trees, bare with the winter.
There was silence for a moment, and then the sound again, like he was throwing something. I knew immediately what he was doing, and a small smile grew in my face. It seemed we had had the same idea.
I took the somewhat hidden trail into the clearing and stopped, just looking at him. His form was perfect, his throw precise. The kunai flew in a streak of dulled silver throw the air and embedded itself in the flesh of the tree. He was pretty close to his imagined target, but I supposed that it was due to his lack of force. Still, the weapon went to the same spot, like there was a magnet pulling it, always to the same fissure in the dark bark.
I thought about the number of times we watched our older brothers do the same movement, with the same fluid motion he now imitated. I couldn't do it, even if I had been there more times than little Madara could have. My body was more developed and I had more strength in my arms, even if just because of the added mass due to my growth. My mind was mature and my thought processes faster, my cognitive functions were operating at their peak. I had anatomic and physical knowledge, even if I didn't know how.
And still, he could throw a kunai and hit his target with ease and grace.
I thought about Kegawa's words and Ayumu's protectiveness and felt envy swell inside my chest, a fire that made my heart beat sickly against my ribs, curling my fingers in the palms of my hands. I never really gave any thought to how much of a genius Madara was, but the proof was there, in front of me. Plunging that knife of humiliation and impotent anger a little deeper.
I looked away from him, ashamed by my own reaction. I wasn't as important as him, and I never would be. He was pivotal to this world, while I was fated to die and be mentioned in a single line of conversation in the future. But more than that, he was my little brother, who I had promised to protect and nurture…
With a frown, I turned my eyes in his direction and let the emotion fill me, instead; a vile taste in my mouth and an ugly wound in my affections toward him. I remembered that old curse of brothers that for love destroyed each other and for hate destroyed themselves, and let it burn the warning in my head. I embraced the feeling. I couldn't be pulled into Madara and Izuna, Itachi and Sasuke… I had to be above all of them, to protect my descendants and future leaders. I wouldn't make the same mistakes, not when I knew the consequences.
I let it simmer inside until I could breathe past it and see the sweet, headstrong and fierce little boy. I still loved him very much, but I wouldn't fell to the traps of the Uchiha curse. It could be callous and cold, but I couldn't let myself forget that the blood running through my veins made me as susceptible as the other tragic characters. I couldn't love them so much to the point of madness, not with the possible future looming ahead, and I definitely couldn't hate them enough to destroy everything I was fighting right now to protect.
I remembered Hahaue's tranquil strength. I tried to think about the smooth lines of her face and the peaceful quiet in her eyes, the ease in her graceful movements and the balm of her peaceful words. I would need to be that way, some day. For the Uchiha Clan and, more than that, for my family, to stir Madara and the others clear of the same course that lead to disaster and self-destruction.
I left without interrupting him, looking attentively at the leaf-littered ground, worried with accidentally stepping in a twig or dry leaf. I didn't want to talk to him anymore.
I roamed the house, passing through the more out of the way rooms, trying to think about something to pass the time that wouldn't involve following Hahaue or Chinatsu-san around and picking up some task to improve my learning. I wasn't in the mood for sewing or cooking, and my temperament was rather dark and depressed. I was fine alone, and truthfully didn't want to rise from my own all-consuming thoughts of future and past.
It was then that I found the hime of the Clan. Uchiha Junko, my aunt.
Her beauty couldn't be compared to Hahaue's, because in my mind they were unique. Hahaue wasn't outstanding, her face was pleasant but not striking, just attractive and symmetrical; what separated her from others was her expressions, the spirit in her eyes, the air around her, her swift and dancing gestures. She wasn't frail, just gracious and calm, always in possession of herself.
Junko was unearthly, delicate in all the senses of the word. Her bone structure was light and her veins showed beneath the thin layer of milky skin. Her hair was long and unbound, cascading like dark water to her waist, framing a fragile face with huge eyes. The eyes, though, were her most prominent feature. They were a soft blue unheard of in the Uchiha Clan; at least, I had never before seen anyone with that eye color.
The genetic complications of that made my head hurt, but it also made me curious. I always thought the Uchiha tended to marry inside the Clan, and even more so the main branch. But I couldn't be certain about the earlier days, and I had to admit our genetic pool was limited, at best, with our insular nature. Blue eyes had the possibility of manifesting in a late descendant, even if it was so rare that two carriers of the right genes would marry and have a child.
So, she was something different than what I was used to… Submissive, cautious in her words and slow in her movements, even if she moved with the proper posture expected of a high born. She wasn't like Hahaue's quiet authority, directing the whole household, or Chinatsu-san's assertive way of dealing with events. She was my father's sister and his opposite in every sense; she appeared young and naïve, and the kind of person that would bend to someone else just to escape confrontation. My family was a strong one, and I liked that trait; she didn't belong with us.
I don't know what she was doing there, I never asked. We encountered each other in one of the open rooms, the cold breeze entering without obstacle. The sky was still somewhat gray and it didn't appear to want to let the sun through, and the room was quite dark that day. I liked it because it promised me the quiet and tranquility I needed. I don't know her personal reasons for straying there, not really, but if I could hazard a guess, I think it had to be because of her impending marriage.
We stopped, staring surprised at each other from opposite sides of the room. I assessed the strange woman before me, trying to find her face in my memory, and she blinked huge blue, blue eyes with a mostly expressionless visage.
"You are Kazumi-chan, right?" she asked, and I blinked for a moment, surprised that she knew about me, before realizing that of course she would; she probably heard about us from Hahaue. Her smile was slow and didn't have much mirth behind it, just a stretching of her lips in a sweet, subdued smile. It wasn't sad, but she didn't appear to have much interest in making it more real.
I nodded, giving a proper bow in sign of respect for an elder.
"I'm Junko, it's nice to meet you," she continued, bowing herself.
"Ah, the pleasure is all mine," I answered, trying to figure out if it would be terribly rude of my part to just continue my walk around. I resolved to quickly finish the pleasantries and be on my way. "Congratulations on your marriage, Junko-san." I said, bowing one last time and starting to go through the same I door I had came in.
"Of course, congratulations," she repeated, her voice a pensive murmur. I stopped, cursing myself all the time. She sounded so fragile in that moment, and there was something about her that made her appear weak. It would make me feel bad about myself to continue without a care. So I turned around.
"Is everything alright, Junko-san?" I asked with hesitancy. I didn't want to be pulled in a family drama, I had my own problems do deal with. She looked at me with suddenly too piercing eyes, and for a moment I could see the family resemblance with Chichiue.
"You are a very intelligent little girl, aren't you?" the words could have been threatening, if not for her meek voice and vaguely curious expression.
"Um," I made, nodding and deciding to dumb down a little. "People tell me I am smart."
"Hmm… Tajima was the same when he was a child," she said, turning her head slightly to the side. I found the way she spoke of my father strange, with a certain condescension in her voice. "He was intelligent, more so than Hiroto. Did you know about Hiroto?"
"No. Who's Hiroto?" I said. I didn't know why she was talking to me about my father's childhood, but I noticed how easily she changed the subject of her marriage. She frowned, a small wrinkle between her well delineated eyebrows.
"You should have, he was your uncle," she declared, but there was no heat or indignation; it was just an innocent statement. "But I don't suppose Tajima would talk about him very much," she finished, sighing.
"Why wouldn't he?" I asked, now curious. I had never before heard about an uncle… Truthfully, not even about an aunt, until the beginning of the wedding preparations. I not even knew why our house was open to the event planning, because it shouldn't be Hahaue's responsibility.
"Oh, no, this story I don't tell," she giggled. For just a moment, those blue eyes were too wide, her smile too strained, but when I blinked her face was lovely again. It was just more and more interesting. Hiroto was a new concept to me; he was a dissonance in my world. He wasn't cannon, he was a wild card. Junko, as well. But Junko I could learn to predict; her I could fit in someplace of the plot, because she was there. I wanted to know that story. I didn't want any surprises later.
"Hmm… Is it a nice story?" I asked in as babyish a voice as I could make. Junko's eyes shined and her shy smile stretched to show her teeth, transforming all her face in a mischievous expression.
"I don't know the end yet," she replied, biting her lower lip. She leaned a little forward, lowering her voice, and confessed with childlike delight, "But I think it will be great."
I frowned. Maybe I had never heard of Junko before because she wasn't very sane. But then, even she didn't make any sense to me, something in that conversation kept jumping at me. Somehow, I had the strangest impression that she was playing with me. It could also be that her sudden moods surprised me enough to not let me read her as well as I should, and it made me wary and suspicious.
"So…" she began, turning her head to the side again. "What are you doing here, Kazumi-chan? Shouldn't you be with Kotone?"
"Ah, I'm just passing the time," I murmured back, lowering my eyes, remembering my reasons for encountering her.
"Say, Kazumi-chan," she began in a slow, inviting voice that made me cringe inside. It was the baby-talk in disguise. "Would like to have some tea with me?"
I stared for a moment, thinking about it. It just seemed to be so late to me because of the events of the morning and the gray cast of the sky, the sun hidden behind thick clouds turning the day white and cold. It was a strange weather for our location. I realized that I hadn't had breakfast yet, and my stomach immediately manifested in accordance.
"Yes, thank you," I replied, bowing and following her when she signaled with a satisfied grin the direction she had come from.
Junko was more relaxed and her words were more biting behind her shyness and rather absent demeanor. It was nice to have someone outside my immediate family to talk to, and it was nice to think about another's problems instead of running in circles inside my own head. She was telling me about her fiancé, Ryouichi. The way she talked about our families, we had history with his branch… The way I remembered my father talking about Ryouichi's father, it wasn't a good one.
I realized pretty soon that I was actually… Gossiping. It was an unexpected discovery, but I resolved to continue. I didn't have anywhere I had to be and I was still in an avoiding campaign of the other occupants of the house, anyway.
"He already married once?" I asked, slightly interested, while waiting for the leaves to infuse the scalding water properly.
"Oh, yes, once," she answered, already drinking from her cup, blowing the scented steam in my direction before daintily raising the tea to her lips. "She was sick, though, and lived for three more years after the marriage."
"And he is marrying you now?" I inquired, surprised. If he had stood by his wife's side even knowing she was sick for three years, why marry again? Surely, he loved her very much. Junko laughed, covering her mouth and throwing a condescending look at me.
"Ryuunosuke is eager to expand his influence by tying his family closer to the main branch," she said instead of giving me a direct answer. "But I don't know Ryouichi well enough to pass judgment. Did he love his sick wife?" she shrugged. "Now, did he love her enough to not take on a more suited bride? I think we know the answer."
Clan politics. They were sick, vicious and headache inducing. I winced and once again ascertained my resolve to stir clear of that writhing can of worms. I was curious by nature, but I didn't want to shake any bones in the closets. By contrast, Junko appeared well-versed in the whos and whys.
"But is he a bad person? I mean, is he violent or rude?" I asked, playing Devil's advocate to try and understand her reticence to marry the man. She thought about it for a moment, resting her cup in the wooden table cradled in her hands.
"No, I don't think so," she answered, raising the cup to take a sip. I copied her, holding the hot tea in my mouth for a moment before swallowing, appreciating the sweet, singular taste. I knew for a fact that it probably had been imported from another land; it was too exotic. Made me think about where she had lived all those years; certainly not in our compound, but maybe somewhere south? "But even if he were, a woman of my age can't be too demanding."
"Your age, Junko-san?" I repeated, smiling a little. She couldn't have been older than twenty-five, and even then it was a stretch. She, in turn, smirked at me and enjoyed my shocked look with her answer.
"Kazumi-chan, you flatter me. I am thirty-two."
"No way!" I exclaimed, letting my own cup hit the table loud when I lowered it from my lips in shock. I blushed in the next instant, embarrassed with my rude outburst. Junko just laughed, again covering her mouth.
"It's alright, Kazumi-chan. It's actually funny to see this kind of reaction every time I tell my true age," she said with a playful grin.
"Ah!" I let escape when a sudden thought crossed my mind.
"Yes?"
"Junko-san, are you, perhaps, older than my father?"
"I am, in fact," she said, smirking again. Her expression turned sober once more. "Though now you understand why it isn't proper to deny the marriage negotiations." She continued before I could fully process the new piece of information. I couldn't imagine Chichiue as a child, not when I thought about my own younger brother. Maybe he had been an even more serious Masaru?
I nodded, absentminded, but confusion pulled me from my imagined chibi-Tajima, scowl in place, glowering at everyone.
"But you are so beautiful, Junko-san," I interjected, not out of adulation. It was true. "Why wouldn't someone want to marry you?"
"Sometimes, when people love someone very much they do silly things," she replied. It was a non-answer again, but not something I could point at. It was clear by her vague expression that she was remembering such instance, and it wasn't a nice memory.
I thought about Hahaue's insistence that I don't train as a shinobi. I understood her fear and hesitancy, and as a woman brought up as a civilian, she probably didn't know how much damage a female shinobi was capable of doing – it brought to mind the image of Tsunade's powerful blows. In the end, it was silly, even it was a mistake made out of love.
"Is something troubling you, Kazumi-chan?" Junko-san's voice averted my habit of submerging in my own thoughts and forgetting what I'm doing. Her concern was so sincere I didn't have the heart to fake a smile and tell a small lie.
"It's just… I feel so weak and powerless, seeing everyone fighting for us," I whispered, taking a sip of my already lukewarm tea, avoiding her eyes. Her chuckles made me raise my head, though; once again, her reaction wasn't the one I had been expecting.
"Such a sweet view, child," she said, resting her head in her hand and looking at me above the rim of the porcelain cup. "The shinobi who fight for such a noble goal are few and far between. The majority of them are sheep, as much as we who don't fight, even if they like to pretend otherwise. The Heads send them to kill and be killed, according to what the highest bidders want. And those are the men who think they control the Clans, and they try to do so for power and wealth. After throwing their orders, they sit back and rest their hands in their big bellies, warm and well-fed."
She drained her cup in one go, but my tea was all but forgotten. I thought about what she had just said. Maybe my views were naïve and skewed. For all the memories I had about the manga, for all the blood and pain I had seen imprinted in paper, they weren't mine. It was fiction, something to entertain myself with. What's more, it was a manga made for a certain public; it wouldn't deal with the dirty facts of the world. For as sick as Kishimoto could be pegged as when this world was living and breathing his rules, it probably followed that he hadn't thought about the implications of his creation. And if he did, what was the matter? It didn't exist. So, instead of the truth, he showed us bright characters overcoming dire situations and more times than not winning. And I had brought that perception with me, and it was cemented by examples like Masaru.
And then, there was the fact that even if I was now part of this world, I was a toddler and I was the daughter of Uchiha Tajima. My house could be considered the safest location around in miles. I had guards and shinobi flooding the compound, prepared to eliminate any threat. I didn't even know about additional security, but I was sure Tajima was paranoid enough to have it. I had never seen the truths of this world. Like Junko said, I was sheep, even with my memories.
"But, you know, Kazumi-chan," she continued, making my attention snap to her. It was strange; she was much more relaxed, nonchalant. One more of her mood swings, I guessed. "Not the Heads or the lords, who are so sure of their own status, matter in the end. They are pieces of a major game. The true puppeteers stay hidden, in their midst, true, but playing on a whole other level."
I was riveted by her words. Power of that kind… I was human. I could feel the appeal of that kind of game. A part of me wanted that, even.
"They aren't sheep, sweetheart," she almost purred, making a familiar move with her turned head. "They aren't even animals. They are the masters, moving everything else around, always trying to be the best, to topple the others."
She had that same craving as well… In her voice, in her too big eyes, in that not so innocent smile. A shiver ran down my spine, and I asked myself if she was talking out of personal experience, and what had happened for her to know about the inner workings of a world like ours. My stomach lurched, and my mind shied away from the notion. It was too big, too much, too deep. I wasn't good enough for something like it and I would be killed faster than if I went out to fight. Even so… That treacherous, darker part of me asked: why not?
"Hmm… I admit I'm curious, Kazumi-chan," she continued, and I turned wide, seeking eyes to her, falling into something that snapped like a trap but felt like warm silk. "Which one will you be?"
