IX.

Naturally, shinobi training with Satoshi didn't take. But, really, did you expect it to...?

I was a natural slacker, even if I had a semi-motivated spirit; my laziness won out in the end and kunoichi life started to lose its luster. Satoshi never brought it up again, and I was left to my peace for the next two years.

It was a bit worrying.

Satoshi and Emiko weren't looking too sprightly, lately—clan tensions continued to rise and, soon, I was sure Itachi would become a chūnin and be ordered to enter ANBU by Fugaku, since the next exam was coming up and he was around that age.

Then, it was only a matter of time... it was a countdown.

If I could do it without seeming crazy (and I did have my limits), I'd string up a huge banner counting down the few short years that I had left in this lifetime. As it was, I just had a calendar.

There wasn't much to do but wait until that Fated Day came around.

In all actuality, I was...well, pretty much a bum. A NEET. Being a slacker kid at age twelve, even as a civilian, was considered something kind of negative. Even normal children were apprenticed in some type of trade or art by now. But me? There wasn't anything I wanted to do. So, Emiko had me take care of minor chores for the local housewives and busy kunoichi within the compound. Shopping, some babysitting, house cleaning, even a little cooking (with constant supervision—people still had trouble trusting me not to ruin everything).

At least she never brought up the marriage issue again.

Even so, during one of my grocery runs for one of the pregnant clan mothers, I ran into quite the interesting opportunity.

"Hey! You!"

I almost didn't stop, but when I glanced over my shoulder, I found a generic-looking, dark-haired guy dressed in hospital scrubs approaching me and shaking a flyer stamped with a large (and ugly) Leaf symbol, looking completely desperate. His pathetic expression totally read like he'd chase me down if I ignored him so I didn't have much choice but to stop and see what the deal was.

But…just to make sure, I glanced over my shoulders to check that no one else would respond before pointing vaguely at myself. "Me?"

"Yeah, you!"

He crossed his arms and looked me up and down, maybe checking for ninja gear or a forehead protector or something—kind of started to weird me out because he was looking at me pretty intently for an adult staring down a preteen and if he tried anything funny I did know how to defend myself. I'd learned at least that much from Satoshi and Kou. But, to be fair, he only looked about five or six years my senior, still a teenager himself. Still definitely a kid to me.

"You don't look like you have anything to do. How would you like to become an assistant at our village hospital?

I looked like I didn't have anything to do? Rude. I was taking care of chores! But...I guess I did look a little bored with it all. It'd been a while since I was able to stir up any fun, what with Emiko keeping me so busy with all this running around. And I didn't even get paid for it! I crossed my arms, mimicking the man, and tilted my head. "An assistant? Like, to a doctor? A nurse? What's the catch?"

Scrubs guy shook his head. "No, no catch. It's just—we need some help lately. Someone to help work the front desk, someone to aid the nurses with clean-up and check-ups, dealing with minor things. It's not difficult and you'll get paid for your services!"

"Paid?" I grinned. "How much are we talkin'?"

He scratched at his hair as he straightened up, looking towards the sky. "Not much, but it's not a little, either. Five-hundred ryō an hour is reasonable, right? …I mean, it's better than asking for voluntary commitment. No one ever comes around when we mention volunteer work."

It was far from a ninja paycheck, but it wasn't nothing. I stroked my chin and sized the guy up before holding my hand out for the flyer. He gave it over without a word, looking hopeful.

KONOHA HOSPITAL— HELP WANTED

Seeking motivated individual to fill the spot of Novice Nurse's Assistant. Part-time or Full-time. Various responsibilities included. Training provided.

All applicants considered, Academy graduation not required. No previous experience necessary.

Your contribution is appreciated and greatly needed!

Boy, was it ugly. Hastily drawn up on garish, Leaf-stamped paper with the Head Doctor's signature scrawled at the bottom. If anything, they needed some lessons in design. No way I'd want to work for them with crappy non-eye-catching stuff like that!

They also, clearly, really needed help.

I glanced up at the scrubs dude again and shrugged. "Sure, why not. What do I gotta do?" It was a step up from babysitting kids who shit their diapers all day and being the clan's gopher, anyway.

Poor guy looked like he was about to cry—his shoulders drooped and he rubbed at his eyes before reaching into the backpack he carried and pulling out a stack of documents and shooting me a winning grin. "Here! Just take this home, read it over with your parent or guardian and fill out all the necessary information. It'd be best if you bring it by the hospital later today, but tomorrow is fine, too. Just drop it off at the front desk and someone'll look it over right away!"

I took the packet and nodded, a little hesitant. "O…kay." Really, I felt a little bad about getting his hopes up—what if Emiko and Satoshi said no? I mean, even if I would've kind of liked the occupation, I was their kid and they had a say over what I did because I was underage and lived under their roof. But, hey, maybe they would be happy for me.

Scrubs guy tilted his head a little as he kept watching me. "By the way, what's your name?"

"Uchiha Rika." I said the surname automatically, but, like when introducing myself to most of the villagers outside the clan, felt the tentative pull of nerves and heart-hardening that was brought about by the general, disdainful reaction to the clan name.

He didn't so much as bat an eyelash, and only smiled again. "Ah, nice to meet you, Rika! I'm Junichi. Hope to see you at the hospital soon!"

With that, he took off down the street, waving—nearly crashing into a group of pedestrians on the way.

I wondered if I'd be replacing him, because he seemed like a real klutz.

"I just don't know, Rika...I mean, the hospital, of all places?" Emiko fretted as she flipped through the application packet and eyed me with worry. No doubt she suspected I would only end up striking up mayhem and disorder, maybe end up killing some poor, injured sap or something with my rambunctious nature. "What do you think of this, Satoshi?"

Satoshi was busy reading the newspaper, hardly paying attention at all. Ever since I gave up shinobi training, we sort of...drifted. It could have been due to the clan changes, too, though. He already had stress lines and wrinkles and he couldn't have even been in his forties just yet. "Hm? I don't see a problem with that. She needs something to do, Emiko."

Ouch, even he knew I was lazy.

Emiko pursed her lips, containing a sigh as Satoshi didn't provide the objection she clearly wanted. "But, of all places... I mean, she's been doing so well taking care of local requests." Where I can keep an eye on her. Probably exactly what she was thinking.

"We can't keep her within the compound forever." He flipped another page, keeping his tone cool.

"Hey—you're making me sound like some sort of shut-in. I do go out past the walls every now and then." I poked at the newspaper Satoshi hid behind, but he didn't show a reaction even as the material crinkled and folded in on itself, obstructing whatever he was pretending to read. Didn't stop him from pretending to read the fallen page upside-down.

"But—it's the hospital! Do you know how dangerous a place like that could be?" She set down the papers and reached for the pen, tapping it irately on the table, and continued to stare at her husband, who blatantly ignored the both of us.

"It's prob'ly just paperwork and whatnot. Clerical duties. The most I could do is spill ink everywhere and—" I caught my tongue at sharp look she sent me. "I didn't mean it like that! Jeez, Ma."

Slowly, her expression fell into a frown of resignation. She still wasn't pleased in the least with this new turn of events. "Is this really something you'd like to do, Rika?"

"What, you think the responsibility would be too much for me?" And here she'd been the one who always tried to help me get my shit together with being responsible. It was a golden opportunity and she was wavering with indecision!

"No, no, I just..." she tapped the pen against the tabletop and hummed. "I've been thinking about asking Satoshi if he'd find a place for you at the police department..."

"What? Fugaku would have a heart attack if I was there!" Hell, I'd caused so much trouble for the police squad over the years that they got antsy every time I walked near the place. I wouldn't be surprised if they had a "No Rikas Allowed" sign posted up in the building!

But, along with that, police work just sounded so stuffy.

"Rika, don't speak that way about our clan leader." Satoshi interrupted sharply, without glancing up, but didn't bother to challenge the idea his wonderful wife presented.

"Sorry, sorry, but—you'd rather have me mixed in with the police than at a hospital? Aren't you afraid I'd let all of the criminals go or something? I'm like Public Enemy Number One to them."

Emiko fell silent for a few moments, eyeing Satoshi pointedly—who just as pointedly ignored her and kept right on reading. "You're right, you're right. It was a silly idea. The hospital is fine, Rika." With a sigh, she skimmed through the application forms and signed wherever a guardian's signature and whatnot was necessary. It was the same procedure from the old world. Tedious and personal.

The next morning, I headed straight for the hospital.

Working at the hospital was hell.

But, admittedly, it wasn't the worst that could be.

Poor nurses and doctors were so busy that they were in dire need of assistants to help balance the workload—hell, I needed an assistant to help me out, but instead of that, we all sort of helped each other get everything taken care of. It was an efficient (but hectic) system.

And, because I was doing a little bit of everything short of jobs that required actual accreditation and license, I learned a lot of helpful things, too. I became a pro at managing and organizing the filing system. I figured out the proper way to disinfect and bandage a cut and minor injuries, how to set splints—and even how to apply a tourniquet.

Grossly enough, I also learned the best way to clean out bedpans.

But, on the plus side, I got to wear a cute little pink pastel nurse's outfit that was a welcomed contrast to the usual Uchiha uniform of gloom-and-doom darkness.

The actual, non-civilian healers could get pretty uppity from time to time—that was the only drawback to working in the hospital. They were all part of some better-people's club that thought they were hot shit because they could mould chakra really well and threw around their weight because of it. Don't get me wrong, they were excellent at their jobs, and a necessary part of the system, but they could be assholes.

Hell, if I'd really wanted, I could have become a medic-nin, too! That'd show them.

There was a second drawback to their presence, too, though. Because there were shinobi present among the workforce, quite a few of them were aware of what my clan heritage implied. Apparently, Uchihas didn't wander too far out of their lane and only a very, very rare few ever drifted into the medical profession. I stuck out like a sore thumb—an amputated sore thumb.

(Did I mention there were a lot of unattached body parts involved in this job? Because I'd seen more dismembered fingers and arms, even legs and feet, than I'd ever ever wanted to see up close.

Shinobi could be really reckless.)

Oh, and there was one other drawback to working in the hospital that wasn't technically related to the job itself.

Apparently, thanks to my beloved Uchiha genes, I wasn't all that bad looking. In fact, I was pretty popular among the younger crowd of patients, even though I didn't really understand what kind of appeal they managed to find buried under my troublemaker appearance.

Messy, unbrushed spiky hair that fanned out weirdly to the sides, long, thick bangs that hung in front of my face and barely gave room for my eyes, a stick-thin, prepubescent figure that made me look all of nine instead of twelve, and a really short stature. Hell, Itachi was already taller than me and he was two years younger! It was a huge blow to my ego. Shisui never let me forget I was so short, either. Well—I mean, at least my skin was pretty clear. But who really paid attention to something like that?

And, to top it all off, I wasn't all that nice. Polite, sure, but I could get pretty dry and snarky within those bounds. The attitude left much to be desired, so whatever these youths liked about me was buried pretty far under—and it was pretty commendable that they found it at all.

Maybe the Uchiha name just attracted fans no matter how good-looking you were. It was something like a coming-of-age phase—survive the hordes of admirers and, as your prize, you'll become good-looking for the rest of your life and have to deal with the same problem forever! P.S. There really is no prize.

The coming-of-age part was accepting the fact that you'll have to deal with it until death. I mean, hell, Madara was still pretty damn fine even when he was all aged and decrepit—there had to be a few elder ladies out there who were into that and would loyally make up his fanbase following. He'd definitely be popular in an old folk's home if he'd retired to one of those places instead of plotting and brooding in some dark, musty ol' cave in the middle of nowhere for his final years…

But, old antagonists aside, during the first two months I worked in the place, about six different infirm, newly-appointed genin or otherwise normal civilian boys—and one girl—professed their love to me on separate occasions. It was flattering, really, but—can I say ick? I was so much older than these kids that it was criminally uncomfortable.

The gesture was sweet, though.

"You're a natural heartbreaker," Junichi commented uneasily after I turned down the seventh lovestruck preteen confession, which he'd been around to witness. There really wasn't any privacy in the whole hospital, so news traveled fast. "They really seem to like you, though. Can't understand why."

I emptied out the trash bin from a recently-vacated room into the larger bin as easily as I dumped those kids' feelings and shrugged. "Natural charm."

Junichi gave an honest laugh. He was the easiest coworker to get along with, a little high-strung and skittish, but he was a nurse who cared deeply for his patients. Plus, he didn't discriminate against me for clan affiliation. Apparently, civilian-born citizens didn't really care much for that sort of affair. Really put the whole thing in perspective for me.

Because shinobi were the main focus of the village, and because it was a ninja village, it would seem they made up the majority of the population. But there were just as many normal people mixed into the crowd—it was an even ratio of about fifty-fifty. Several civilians resided in a hidden village like this under the assumption that it would be safer and more peaceful than living anywhere else within the country.

Well, when Orochimaru, Madara, and the Akatsuki weren't around to break everything, that was pretty much the truth. There were barely ever any serious threats around here that the typical citizen would have to worry about.

"Why do you turn them all down, though? When I was your age, I would've jumped at a chance for a date! Heck, even now I would." He gave a wistful sigh, checking a clipboard over for his next stop. Probably didn't realize what he'd just said, either. The kid was the type who didn't think before he spoke and lacked one of those helpful internal verbal filters.

But it made him a pretty easy target for fun.

"You're not popular, are you, Junichi?"

"That's—that's not what I meant. I-I can get a date! Just—I'm just always busy...that's it. That's all." He was flustered, now. But it was kind of pathetic too—I felt a little bad for him. "I haven't had one in about two years or so but I can get one, okay?"

"Okay, okay. I believe you. Maybe I'll put a good word in for you with the good-looking people who come in for treatment. There's this one really cute girl around your age down in the east wing who—"

"No."

"Then, there's this really cute guy with a broken leg just a few doors back from us right now, he's in his early twenties, but—"

"I meant no thank you! I don't need help from a kid, Rika. You should worry about your own love life and have some fun. You don't have a boyfriend…do you?" He pointedly eyed the dragonfly hairpin and I reached up to it on reflex.

"What—this? You think I have some admirer who gave it to me?" I nearly cracked a grin.

"Well, you blab on about your family so much that I figured you'd have mentioned if they gave it to you as a gift. Plus, you're always wearing it." He nodded, sagely, then smiled an obnoxiously shit-eating smile. "Sooo, is it true?"

"No way in hell! I got this from my cousin as a birthday present!" I stuck my tongue out.

Junichi's grin visibly fell in disappointment. "Ah, cousin, huh...? Here I thought you had some secret love affair going on." His eyebrow quirked up. "Well, I mean, just because it's your cousin doesn't mean that's no longer an option! I mean, inter-family marriages have sort of dwindled over the years, not to mention since you're part of an old clan, but still! It would be kind of forbidden, and exciting and—"

"Stop right there. That guy's like my older brother and he's important to me. Don't make it all weird, okay?" I cracked my knuckles almost absentmindedly and Junichi edged away a step. He was well aware I'd received some shinobi training and knew how to throw a proper, painful punch. But the first time I hit him was totally an accident. Like—my hand slipped and he just happened to be standing in the way.

"Right, right. Sorry, Rika. But you should loosen up a little. People—and not me, mind you—say you need to be a little more friendly and smile at the patients more or you'll scare them away."

"If that were true then I wouldn't get a love confession every other week."

"Point taken."

The patients I looked in on from time to time didn't only include random, smitten young shinobi and civilians. There were some familiar faces, too.

Or, in some cases, the lack of a face.

"Holy hell," I squeaked out as soon as I stepped into the room containing none other than Kakashi. The Kakashi. Hatake Kakashi! Future Sixth Hokage himself! Younger and definitely still in his ANBU days, but his was a face that probably anyone could recognize, myself aside. Mainly because it was always covered and a popular topic of discussion; instantly recognizable. He was a damn idol for crying out loud!

He didn't hear me—or if he did, he made no acknowledgment of the interruption and continued to snooze peacefully on.

I nearly dropped the basket of fresh sheets I was carrying because my hands were so damn sweaty all of a sudden. It was no mystery why, really—obviously it was Kakashi's fault. He was just...there! All sleepy and quiet and what if I could see his face? What if? Kishimoto always made sure to jab everyone in the gut by constantly teasing about it but never actually revealing the man's face, right up until the very end. This was a chance of a very short lifetime and I was gonna take it if I ever took anything in this second life. I mean, I deserved something like a souvenir even if it was just the sight of someone's face, right?

But—on the other hand, it was really…invasive. Maybe the man just liked his privacy and who was I to make some game about his personal life?

Against my better judgment, I found myself shuffling closer and closer to the edge of the Kakashi's bed—but not too close, because I'd be pretty freaked out if some random kid was hovering over me while I slept (my nephew did it to me once and it wasn't fun)—stopping just near the curtain that separated the two beds in the room.

I was such a creep.

But he was so pretty! He was super cool when he had his usual appearance, hair all spiked up and windblown to one side, scarred, Sharingan eye covered with his skewed forehead protector, but when he was sleeping, his hair was less unruly and it looked soft and touchable and his eyelashes were kind of long when I looked a little closer—

I was such a creep!

That can of worms was something I didn't want to touch. I forced myself to turn around and continue on with my task, which was changing the bedsheets of the unoccupied bed. Quietly. After that stalker-ish episode, I didn't think I could look the man in the eye if he woke up.

But I couldn't help glancing back at him every few seconds. Just to see if, maybe, the sheet had fallen off of his lower face and revealed it to the world (a.k.a. me).

—Nope. No luck. It was one of those things that would forever remain a mystery. To me, anyway.

Before leaving the room, I checked to make sure the water pitcher on Kakashi's bedside table was full, like I did with all of the other patients, and when I tried to sneak in one final glance, he was staring right at me with a tired, half-lidded lazy gaze—

Wait.

He was looking at me!

That was it. That was the day I died.

Show's over—everyone can go home now because there won't be an encore.

The end.

…But, really. Ninety-nine percent sure I experienced a minor heart attack that moment as I slammed the water pitcher back onto the table, nearly spilling it everywhere, and backed up towards the door (and ran into it before throwing it open), waving my hands back and forth like a moron. "I-I-I—uh—I'm just—there's water! Y-yeah, you're fine! Fine, as in, uh, good, not uh, good-looking or—well, you are good-looking, but that's not what I meant, I—bye!"

This was going down in history as the single most embarrassing moment of my two lives.

At least I wouldn't have to live with the humiliation for long.

When I stopped to think about it—especially after that intensely awkward, embarrassing encounter with Kakashi where I made a colossal moron of myself—it was probably some kind of blessing that I'd been reborn into this time instead of another, where I would likely have to deal with popular, gorgeous characters I wasn't related to on a daily basis.

If I'd been reborn in the pre-founding era as an Uchiha instead, for example, and I'd been around Madara for any period of time, I would have made such an ass of myself that he probably would have killed me just to spare everyone else from the secondhand embarrassment because, sure, he wanted to trap the entire world in some whack genjutsu that involved the moon or whatever, but he wasn't enough of an asshole to make everyone suffer that. Same goes for the Senju brothers, only, they probably wouldn't kill me and I'd have to live with being a humiliating, awkward person forever.

Don't even get me started on the Akatsuki.

So, in a way, I'd dodged a bullet.

Just from that one conversation with Kakashi—it couldn't really be called that, though—I already couldn't wait to die.

"You look miserable."

A hand settled down on top of my head and I straightened up from the medicine cart I was leaning against and glooming near, just praying I would never run into Hatake Kakashi ever again in what remained of my short life.

It was a familiar gesture, and with that voice, there was no doubt it was Shisui.

I glanced up at him and sniffled pitifully. "Shisui, I made an idiot out of myself."

He didn't look surprised at all. Not phased one bit. "Rika, that's nothing new." Said it with a completely straight face, even.

I shoved my hand against his shoulder. "Don't be a jerk! I'm serious! I'm mortified, here!" He winced a little and I remembered where exactly I was—a hospital. A place where most healthy people didn't usually find themselves. "Wait—Shisui? What are you doing here?"

"Dislocated my arm during training. I Just came to get it checked out and make sure everything went alright when Itachi helped me relocate it." Of course. Those two trained together whenever they could and it was no surprise that they got a little rough sometimes. "It's still a little sore, but it's alright."

"Ah, crap, I'm sorry...!" My hands hovered near his shoulder as I fretted over the injury, wondering if I made it worse because wouldn't that just be great for my career, and because it was Shisui and if I ever seriously hurt him somehow I couldn't live with the guilt, but Shisui only shrugged to make a point and worked his arm a little to show that it was in working order after a check-up and dose of medical chakra.

"Don't worry about it. But tell me a little more about what happened?" A playful grin rose to his face.

"Nothing, nothing. I just—don't ever let me near any hot men, okay?"

His grin fell slightly and its intent shifted into embarrassment. The same expression he used when I wreaked havoc throughout the district. "Oh no... Rika. Don't tell me you tried to kiss him?"

"Don't—don't be stupid; that was only something I did when we were kids! And I didn't even kiss anyone then, I just pretended to so they would leave me the hell alone." I crossed my arms and shrugged, pouting. Of all things, he had to bring up the Cootie Rika thing again?

"Then I'm sure you're just overreacting about it." He waved a hand dismissively and ruffled my hair again, pointedly avoiding the dragonfly hairpin so it wouldn't get knocked out of place but messing up my nurse's hat instead. "Your shift ends soon, doesn't it? I'll wait and walk home with you since it's getting pretty late."

I reached up to straighten the hat. "Sure! You're so reliable it's kinda embarrassing, you know?"

"Not as embarrassing as you, though."

"Jerk!"

My shift really was ending soon. Within fifteen minutes, my daily duties were complete and I was free to leave.

I spotted Shisui chatting with another shinobi in the waiting area and raised my arm to wave and catch his attention, but someone clearing their throat behind me caught my attention and I stopped to see what the deal was. It wasn't uncommon that I got stopped on my way out to take care of a couple more jobs because there was no telling when the nurses and doctors would get swamped, but that didn't sound like any of my coworkers or employers.

Behind me was a short boy around Shisui's age, nervously clutching a flower between his hands—probably one he'd gotten from one of his get-well-soon deliveries. He looked sick, but I think it was due to nerves more than anything. Once he was sure he had my attention, he looked up and held the flower—a daisy—out in my direction. "H-here! For you, Miss Rika!"

"What's the occasion?" I asked, taking the flower and twirling it, raising an eyebrow just to be a jerk. Totally knew he was trying to confess. I didn't really recognize the guy, or remember his name, but I was sure I'd stopped by his room at least once if he knew my name. Wow, I really was a jerk.

"I just—you're really pretty! And nice, and caring, always doing your job the best you can and... I really admire that! I like you Miss Rika—a lot! I love you!" he all but yelled, sure to cause a scene. Good thing I was about to get the hell outta there. The kid looked so shaken by his sudden, bold confession that his knees were trembling—or maybe he really was just sick and weak. He probably should have had his I.V. stand with him.

I smiled sweetly and took him by the shoulders before steering him down the hallway. "Oh, really? Thank you. Now, you should really get back to bed and rest, alright?"

His shoulders slumped and he hung his head, defeated. "Y-yes, Miss Rika..."

With that, he trudged down the hall, looking just as miserable as I'd felt earlier. Really, what did these kids expect? The hospital was a place to get well; it wasn't a place to find romance. This wasn't a TV drama!

Once the boy was out of sight, I turned back around and headed for the lobby, sighing. Now, I had a flower I had no idea what to do with. At least it was pretty.

Shisui openly grimaced as I approached. Obviously, he'd witnessed the whole thing, but then again probably half the hospital did, given how loud that kid was. "Rika...that was scary."

"What? Why?"

"I mean, it was a little harsh, don't you think?"

I shrugged. "No way. Besides, I'm mostly into older guys."

"Like the one you embarrassed yourself in front of?"

"Shut up!"

Note: Yeah—yeah. I know. A lot of you might probably (definitely) be upset Rika didn't end up going the shinobi route after all but…this is how it's been planned from the start. It is how it is! There will still be shenanigans galore.

Also, this was obviously written way before Kakashi's face was revealed. Honestly never thought it would happen and it would remain one of those eternal mysteries but Kishimoto definitely delivered.