Rain pattered on my umbrella. It glistened down the smooth grey surface of the tombstone. Beaded on flower petals, white and violet.

The service was wrapping up. A chorus of whispers rose behind me. I stared at the stone and the flowers. Gray, white, violet.

A lot of people had come. Gai and his father, Dai, who'd found me on one of their morning runs, sitting in front of my house; soaked through, and unable to utter a word. Kurenai and her parents, who'd known my mom and dad; Asuma and his family; it was hazy, but I thought he and Kurenai had been the first to barge into my hospital room, frantic with worry. A number of other people I didn't know and only recognized by their clan crests, who gave me their condolences with pitying eyes. The Hokage had performed the ceremony, which I thought was ironic given that my dad wasn't given a place on the Memorial Stone. He hadn't died for the village.

The service was over. The Hokage was gone, leaving final words I didn't process, and people were beginning to scatter home.

"Are you ready to go?"

I looked up at the tall figure next to me. The teenager whose house I'd been staying in for the past few days – the one with the scars on his face and the spiky hair who'd come by my house a few times before. His name was Nara Shikaku. He lived in a large traditional mansion in the western district. The inner garden had a nice koi pond. In the few days between the discovery and the funeral, I'd spent a lot of time staring at the swimming fish, while the world rotated around me.

Nara-san was nice. Cold, but nice. He didn't talk to me much, except to tell me where I needed to be and when I needed to eat. But he mostly left me alone. I stared a multicolored fish swirling like clouds in the water, and when, after an uncertain amount of time, he gave me a black outfit to put on, I did so without comment.

Gray, white, violet. Raindrop tipping off my umbrella and rolling down my hand.

I blinked up at him.

A commotion broke out back where the crowd was thinning out. Nara-san turned around and his face creased in a deep frown.

"I swear, some people . . ." he muttered, and hurried towards the source.

I took one last look at the stone and the wet flowers. For the first time in what seemed like forever, I took a deep breath. I looked up beyond the curved edge of my umbrella at the raindrops falling like light-tipped spears from a sky that almost glowed with filtered sunlight.

The commotion was getting louder. I turned around.

Sakumo was there. He was haggard but standing strong, holding Kakashi back with one arm. Nara-san was trying to calm down a man I vaguely recognized, who was yelling and shaking his fist.

". . . dare you! How dare you show your face here!"

"Yamanaka-san, knock it off!" Nara-san said, putting himself bodily in front of him. "What's the point of doing this now?"

The man tried to push his way past him. "It's your fault! If it wasn't for you Fujimi-san would still be alive! How can you show your face here after what you did? Don't you have any shame?!"

The crowd muttered assents; one person yelled "That's right!", and another "Traitor!"

Kakashi's eyes hardened and his fists were clenched so hard they trembled. He tried to launch himself forward but Sakumo pushed him behind as he stood and took the brunt of the man's words. In one hand, he held a single white lily.

"Dad!" Kakashi protested.

The man shoved past Nara-san and stalked forward with his fist rising. I ran. My umbrella tumbled to the ground.

"You should have died! You should've been the one . . . You should be dead, this should be your funeral, and yet you have the gall to . . ."

"You're the one with no shame," I said, loud enough to be heard over the crowd. The man halted, fist ready to strike. I walked the last few steps and stared straight up at him.

"This is a funeral," I said, my voice ice-cold.

His eyes widened in shock. "You . . ."

I cut him off. "This is my father's funeral," I repeated, spine rod-straight. "Don't use it as an excuse to air out a grudge. It's disgraceful. If you're going to insist on fighting, I'll have to ask you to leave."

It was silent, save for the rain. The man, deflated, lowered his fist and turned his face away with a grimace. I stared at him steadily until he turned around and stalked off, disappearing into the crowd.

"Would anyone else like to comment on whose funeral it should've been?" I asked to no one in particular. There was no answer.

I felt Kakashi's stare on me, though I didn't turn to face him. Sakumo's head was still held down.

The crowd began to dissipate completely. Nara-san held his umbrella over me.

"Ukiyo-kun, we're going," he said.

He put his hand on my shoulder and ushered me forward. I went obediently.

"Wait!"

I stopped. Nara-san looked over his shoulder and did a double-take.

"Sakumo-san?" He said, shocked.

I turned around. Sakumo was on his knees in the wet grass, face bowed low to the ground. Kakashi had one hand held out like he wanted to stop him.

I walked the few steps over to them, leaving the shelter of the umbrella.

Sakumo spoke. "I know I don't have the right to ask for your forgiveness . . . I know it's presumptuous and selfish of me to try . . . but I . . . I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

Kakashi's face twisted in anguish as he watched his father bow his head. The single lily lay on the ground in front of him.

"If there was anything I could do to make amends . . . if my life was enough then I . . ."

I saw the raw fear in Kakashi's eyes.

"Dad! Don't say that!" He cried out. He tugged on his father's arm. "Stand up! You don't need to do this! This wasn't your . . ." His eyes flashed to me as if remembering I was here.

I knelt down and picked up the flower.

"Sakumo-san," I said in a soft voice, turning it over in my hand. Not once did I meet their eyes. "You've got it all wrong. You've got nothing to apologize for. You saved my dad, didn't you? You saved him once. That's enough. What happened after that was his decision." I straightened up and smoothed my dress. "Thanks for coming. And for the flower."

Sakumo did not lift his head. I walked back to Nara-san and we left the cemetery, leaving the two among gray stone tablets, flowers wavering in the wind, and the ashes of the dead.


The moment I was alone, all semblance of fight drained of my body and I collapsed face-first on the futon, tired and numb. The sliding doors looking out onto the veranda and the garden had been left open to let the cool humid air flow in. By the closet sat a satchel with a few of my things. Clothes, a few books. Someone had fetched it from my house. I hadn't been back.

I didn't know what to do with myself. Distantly, I thought about all the school I was missing. All the material, all the training. Becoming a ninja seemed so far away right now, peeking through the haze brought on by the cloying summer air. I'd started this life with all the resolve in the world, but now I couldn't think of what had once been important to me, or why I had thought it so important in the first place. I was alone, again. First my mom, then my dad; that little family I'd been granted had gone away and there would be no getting it back.

All I had left were regrets. Again.

If I had noticed something was off . . . if I had been a better daughter . . . if I had gotten home earlier that day . . . if I hadn't saved . . .

I cut myself off. I could regret and rue and curse and blame myself all I wanted, but I refused to do it over saving someone's life. I would not allow myself to become that kind of person.

That I had let the thought even bud in my head made me so ashamed of myself I curled up tightly with my knees to my chest, making myself as small as possible. I watched the rain drip off the roof.

Gray, white, violet; the fear in Kakashi's eyes; Sakumo covered in blood, head bowed low; my dad's haori, and a single lily.

"I guess . . . it really is my fault . . ." I whispered to myself. Maybe everything was my fault.

Wind chimes tinkled in the distance.

What now?

If I could just rouse myself, I knew I would find something to do – it wasn't like me to let myself wallow in misery for too long. There was plenty to do. Things to learn, to occupy my brain with and push those awful thoughts away. But the reality was, I was five. Or six? Something like that. I forgot, sometimes.

What could I even realistically do?

How was I going to take care of myself? Was there a foster system, an orphanage, a child protective services? I'd never seen anything like that around here.

Could I take care of the house on my own? Would they let me? What about finances, bills, an income?

Did my parents have a mortgage? Debt?

What were their savings like? How much was my tuition, and could I even afford it?

Did my dad have life insurance? Oh, but since he'd committed suicide that was a moot point.

Did the village provide aid, in times like this? I couldn't be the only orphan running about the place, but again, since he hadn't died on a mission, it was doubtful I was eligible.

The first thing to do would be to get my hands on all the paperwork . . . bills, deeds, payment slips . . . wait, did this place even have a banking system? I'd never seen anyone use a credit card. Was it all cash based? If so, that would be a problem if my parents hadn't kept a decent paper trail. It was pretty easy to overspend, if you couldn't keep a watchful eye on your banking statement. And then, how were bills handled? Water, electricity, gas – were they state-run, privatized, how were payments made and how often?

In the short term, if I had a decent cash supply I'd be fine – I knew where the store was, and could cook at least well enough to keep myself alive – it was when the real bills would start coming that trouble would nip along at my heels. I was at least a good six or seven years away from getting a job. I knew there was a minimum wage for genin, and subsidized housing in the city center, so that would be a viable option. If I even made genin. It was a long road ahead.

It hit me then. What other choice did I viably have?

There was no formal school system here aside from the ninja Academy. From what I saw, the regular citizens mostly just ran family-owned businesses, teahouses and small-scale manufacturing operations and restaurants and other various small enterprises, and people got jobs fairly young – apprenticing, usually, if not just working for the family business. This wasn't a highly advanced society with college and massive companies and service jobs and managing positions – it was a village organized around running a central economic and military business – the shinobi. Trade and business were meant to support that pillar. And I'd already figured out that any high-level position in the village administration was extremely unlikely to go to anyone but chuunin-level ninja.

Altogether, this meant that if I aspired to be anything more than a shopkeeper, or innkeeper, or artisan or craftsperson, I needed to become a ninja. If I wanted to make a living as soon as possible, I needed to become a ninja.

This wasn't simply a choice anymore. No matter how much in savings my parents had left me, it wouldn't last forever. I had to seriously think about how I was going to live my life.

I sat up abruptly. Yes. This was exactly what I needed. Paperwork and numbers and planning and organizing and folders and spreadsheets and calculations and every single variable I could feasibly control pinned under my thumb.

I needed to go home, right now.

I didn't even grab my bag. I slammed the door open and promptly smacked into someone.

Nara-san looked down at me, not very amused. I rubbed my nose and met his stare.

"The old hag wants to speak to you. Come on," he said, in his usual deadpan tone, and walked off.

I followed after a moment's consternation, skipping down the hall to catch up. "Who?"

"Nara Sumire. My mom. She's the head of the Nara clan."

"Oh." I said, my nerves beginning to crawl in my stomach. This was the first I heard about her. What could she want with me?

He sighed and scratched behind his ear. "Don't be so nervous, she's not gonna eat you."

Implying she'd be eating someone. I could guess who, going by the sullen downturn of his mouth.

"Nara-san," I started. "Um . . . why does she . . ."

"Just call me Shikaku," he interrupted. "Nara-san makes me sound old – like my mom. She's been gone for a bit, looking after the forest and the deer, or this conversation would've happened sooner. Relax."

We reached the end of a corridor. He stopped in front of two sliding doors, and looked down at me. His gaze was calculating – a little too sharp for a teenager, but not off-putting in the way Kakashi could be sometimes – just, very considering. Like he was analyzing scattered objects for consistency, or putting together a puzzle.

Without another word, he slid the door open and ushered me inside.

"Shikaku!"

"Geh," he made a strangled noise and tried to slam the door shut, but I stuck my foot back and blocked it. He shot me an incredulous stare. I returned it calmly.

'If I'm doing this, I am not doing it alone.'

"What are you waiting for? Come on in."

He stepped in and closed the door behind us. The woman who'd spoken, that I took to be Nara Sumire, was tall, with long black hair in a tight bun and no bangs, wearing a sober rust-colored kimono. She sat in the middle of the room at a low table which was set with tea and sweets. She waved us forward with a long-fingered hand. Her smile was genuine, if a little foxlike.

"Shikaku, it's been so long! Why the sour face? You don't seem happy to see your dear old mother."

Shikaku, hands stuck deep in his pockets, slouched forward and dropped his behind on a cushion in the most straightforward performance of teenage glumness I'd ever been witness to. "Yeah, yeah, let's just get this over with," he drawled

Her smile turned fixed and her eyes narrowed to slits. "Manners, son of mine. Manners! Is that any way to greet your elders?" She innocently raised her fan.

His postured snapped up and he said, "No, ma'am. Sorry."

The fan lowered. The smile did not. "I'll let it pass, this time."

". . . How did the checkup go?"

She snapped the fan open and tapped her mouth lightly with it. "Fine . . . the crops are coming along . . . but," she smiled. "I'll fill you in later. This meeting concerns our young guest." Her deep black eyes fell on me and her smile broadened. I swallowed. "This must be Ukiyo-chan! Come here, sweetheart. Have a seat."

I crossed the space between me and the table and knelt down, hands bunching in my black skirt. Sumire poured tea for all of us and set a few sweets in front of me.

"Do you like mochi? Here, have some of this. It's strawberry daifuku. It's good luck! There's dango as well, and senbei if you'd rather have something savory. I figured you'd like something more on the sweet side, so I got a variety of . . ."

"Mother . . ." Shikaku groaned. "Can we just get to the point? And what do you need me here for anyway?"

Her eyes flashed and the fan struck. He jerked his hand off the table with a hiss.

I quietly sampled the sweets while mother scolded son. She turned to me, a shine in her eyes, and leaned forward.

"How is it, Ukiyo-chan?"

"It's . . . good."

"Which one do you like best?"

I stared at the little tray in front of me.

"The Castella cake is really good," I said. It reminded me most of . . . where I'd been before. I didn't like the taste of the Japanese-style sweets so much. I took a sip of tea. It was bitter.

"I'm glad you like it. Now, Ukiyo-chan, if you're up for it, why don't we play a little game? Do you know how to play shogi?"

"Shogi?" I said, surprised. "I know the rules, but . . ."

"Then why don't we have a match?"

"Oy, old hag . . ." Shikaku intervened. "You don't really need . . ."

"Be quiet," her tone was quiet, but unflinchingly powerful. His mouth snapped shut. She turned back to me. "Shall we?"

It didn't sound like I could refuse.


The board was brought out, and the pieces set. I knew the basic rules – it was similar to chess – but I'd never had the opportunity to play.

I tried my best – I really did. As the game went on and Sumire hardened her strategy, switching from a relatively easy-going play style to one that was almost viciously offensive, I countered as best I could and succeeded in capturing several of her pieces. It was obvious I didn't stand a chance, but I did what I could to put up a fight. I focused everything I had into the little blocks on the grid in front of me. Sumire watched every move I made like a hawk, every twitch of my hand, every hesitation, every decision, like she was cataloguing and organizing and judging something.

Eventually, when it was clear she'd be winning, I threw away defense and went in with an all-out assault. Her surprise was evident, but ephemeral. Within five moves she had me cornered again. Another five, and the game was over.

"Well, that was very good. Well-played, Ukiyo-chan," she said with a smile. "Don't you think so, Shikaku?"

Shikaku, who'd been watching from the side, gave me another one of those calculating looks. "Yes. For a beginner, I guess."

"Alright then," Sumire clapped her hands. "Now that my hunch has been confirmed, we can move along to the topic at hand."

"Hunch?" I frowned.

"Ukiyo-chan, you're a very bright young girl, aren't you?" She said.

I shrugged. "Not really."

"You are. I've seen your test scores, and your performance in shogi was far beyond what an average child your age should've been able to display. You are, just as Shikaku told me, an unusually bright child."

I quickly looked to Shikaku. He shrugged, and yawned. "It was obvious. Between your test scores, what your old man told me about you, and just your attitude . . . yeah, pretty obvious."

My mouth twisted at the mention of my dad. Sumire shot him a glare. "Shikaku!"

He caught his mistake and looked awkwardly off to the side.

"I swear, no tact whatsoever . . . Ukiyo-chan, we don't mean to put you on the spot. I only needed to make sure you were ready to hear what I wanted to tell you. Though it may have been lonely, I can assure you that you aren't the only precocious child I've seen – quite the contrary. So relax! Shikaku, get us some more tea."

I tried to let the stiffness ease out of my shoulders. I should've just pretended I sucked. But then again, they probably would've seen through me if I had.

After Shikaku had obeyed and placed two cups in front of us, most of the cheer faded from Sumire's face and she face with a grave air.

"First, I should explain how the Nara clan came to be in contact with your family. To make a long story short, your father and I were placed on the same genin team after graduating from the Academy. We worked together for about six years, until we made chuunin, and frequently teamed up all the way through our jounin years and until my retirement. He was . . . a dear friend of mine. He became especially close with my husband, and I with his wife, though our respective duties, especially after my husband's death, did prevent us from socializing much. As a jounin, he and his wife were frequently asked to assist with clan business – you may remember seeing Shikaku at your house?"

I nodded slowly.

"As his friend, I feel it is my responsibility to see that you are provided for, at least until you become independent. It is the least I can do." She smiled, and it was genuinely kind, though tinged with grief. "So don't worry about anything. You'll be well taken care of here."

It hit me then – that she was talking about me living here. Not about me going back to my house. I swallowed. She continued on.

"I've petitioned the Hokage for guardianship, and he was kind enough to approve. Until you become a genin, you will have the full support of the Nara clan – after that, it'll be up to you to decide what you want to do. Of course, we'll always be there for you."

This . . . wasn't what I had planned. I didn't even think it was what I wanted. But . . . could I really stand living in that house? Alone? Was it even possible?

I was seized by sheer fright at the idea. I just . . . didn't know anything. I suddenly realized what being an adult, a grown-up, in society actually was – the knowledge, skills, experiences, and set of tools to navigate everyday life by yourself – and I just didn't have any of that. I'd only lived here for five years – five short, carefree, bitter years spent clinging to people who took care of everything because I wasn't expected to know any of it yet. Thirty odd years of life experience spent in another universe did not magically correspond to thirty odd years of life experience in ninja land. It just didn't work that way.

So as much as it hurt my pride, as much as I wanted to go home, and as much as everything hurt and made my eyes sting, I bowed my head and said,

"Thank you very much for your kindness. Please take care of me."

Just until I made genin, I mentally added. I swallowed thickly. Just until then.


"Sakumo, I understand how you're feeling. I understand, but I'm afraid I can't grant your request."

"Hokage-sama!" Sakumo protested. "Please! Let me take responsibility." He bowed his head. "I beg you. I should be the one to look after her."

The Hokage sighed deeply and took a puff off his pipe. The sun was starting to go down, dyeing the walls of his office with splashes of red and gold. The rain had finally let up, and the dispersing clouds painted the sky like streaks of paint.

"I'm very sorry, Sakumo. I already granted guardianship to Nara Sumire. Fujimi Ukiyo's immediate future has already been settled."

Sakumo's face fell and he sat down heavily in his chair, hands dangling limply between his knees. The deep bags under his hollow eyes, the sallow tint to his skin, his slouched shoulders and disheveled hair, everything about him spoke of a man deep in despair. He buried his face in his hands.

"Sakumo, are you alright?" the Hokage asked kindly. "I know the past few weeks have been difficult . . ."

"Hokage-sama," he said abruptly. "How is the situation with Iwa looking?"

The leader turned grave. "Not good. At this rate, war is unavoidable. I am doing everything I can at the moment. Hopefully, we'll have a few more years to prepare."

"But you're only delaying the inevitable."

The Hokage nodded gravely. "That's right. You mustn't blame yourself, Sakumo."

"I could have put a stop to it. I could have . . ."

"No, Sakumo. The situation is too complicated to have been solved by a single mission. This storm has been brewing for decades."

"I could've," Sakumo insisted. "But now I . . . I'm afraid I won't be of any use to you. I can barely hold a kunai anymore." He laughed humorlessly. "So much for Konoha's White Fang."

"Is this why you're so insistent on taken in Ukiyo-kun?"

"I thought I could atone for my failure towards the village . . . towards Fujimi-san. But I suppose that was selfish of me."

The Hokage did not tell him the truth; that he would not have given him guardianship even if Nara Sumire hadn't stepped in. The man was too unstable as it was. Adding a young child, the daughter of the man whose death he blamed himself for into the mix, would do no good to either of them. Sakumo needed to focus on his own family first.

The Hokage stood, and faced the window. The sun glistened over the drenched village.

"Take care of your son, Sakumo. He needs you now. He's already talking about graduating."

"Kakashi?" Sakumo's head shot up. "Graduating? But it's barely been a few months!"

"His skills exceed anything we've seen so far. He's a true prodigy."

Sakumo smiled proudly. "He'll surpass me one day. He's going to be a truly superb shinobi."

"You have no objections to him graduating early then? According to his teachers, in a few months at most he'll be ready."

"If Kakashi decides he wants to graduate, I won't stop him. I do wish he'd have more time to play with his friends . . . but he's a stubborn boy. Once he's made his mind, there's no stopping him."

"I see. Very well then." The Hokage turned and bowed his head. "Please continue to guide him. I know he will accomplish great deeds for the village, as you have. I am sorry to hear about your retirement. Once you recover, it will be my honor to reinstitute you among our forces, should you wish to return."

Sakumo stood up and bowed in return. When he straightened up, it was with a ghost of his former kind smile that he said, "Thank you, Hokage-sama. Maybe one day I'll return to the force . . . or maybe teach? That might be nice. I feel like there's so much more I need to give back."

"Good luck with everything, Sakumo."

"Thank you, Hokage-sama. I'll be off now."


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Peace out.