There were some things about Konoha I loved. For instance, the ability to do all sorts of cool shit without being called out for it, like water-walking or roof-hopping, was pretty sweet. The food was good and affordable. The vegetation was well-maintained and pleasant to look at.

But one thing I did not appreciate about Konoha was its summertime humidity.

We were edging into summer now, just at the tail end of May, and it was starting to show. The classroom was insufferably stuffy, and for once, Naruto and I were both awake during Hyouroku's section. We were too occupied with trying to fan each other with our worksheets to pay attention to the lesson, something that the big grouch surely noticed but chose not to comment on beyond a few dirty looks.

The whole class was teeming with restless energy, the early summer heat wave driving us all nuts. About five minutes before lunch break, Hyouroku stopped mid-sentence, cutting himself off, and sighed. "It's clear you lot aren't absorbing anything I'm saying, so I won't waste my breath. Return after the break and be ready to learn. Dismissed."

The class breathed a collective sigh of relief as we got to our feet and quickly made to escape the cramped, stuffy classroom. Just as I made it to the doorway, trailing behind Naruto, I heard the deep voice of my teacher call, "Asagiri. Stay behind."

I froze in my tracks, dread pooling at the base of my stomach, but quickly schooled my expression into something glazed-over and apathetic, knowing it was the least likely to draw criticism from the man. I trudged up to Hyouroku's desk. Rumours about me getting in trouble were bound to spread amongst the kids at recess. Hyouroku almost never asked for students to stay behind—I suspected he hated the lot of us so much that he just wanted to get out of there as soon as the bell rang.

Once the classroom was empty, I finally spoke up. "You wanted to see me, sensei?"

Hyouroku grunted, unravelling a scroll before himself on the podium. "Asagiri. We don't usually inform students of their performance mid-semester, but I'm making a special exception for you out of my own generosity."

Generosity, my entire ass. "Yes, sensei?"

Hyouroku's eyes narrowed. "Your taijutsu performance this term has been critically poor. Keep this up and you will fail the taijutsu portion of the curriculum."

My jaw dropped before I could control myself. Failing taijutsu? I hadn't lost a single spar in class so far—owing to the fact I'd been paired with mob-types till this point, barring Sakura, but still. "Fail...?"

"You are expected to put in more effort or repeat the year," Hyouroku continued, his tone clipped. "That is all. Dismissed."

"S-sensei, wait," I argued against all better judgement. I couldn't afford to repeat the year—that would put me out of step with the Konoha rookies, and that meant uncharted territory. I almost lost all resolve when he fixed his icy glare on me, but hesitantly, I said, "Why am I failing? What am I doing wrong? I-I've won every in-class spar this term, haven't I?"

A gaping silence ensued in which neither of us moved an inch. Then, very slowly, Hyouroku placed his hands on either side of the podium and leaned over it, lowering his head until he was nearly eye-to-eye with me. "Asagiri, being a shinobi of the Hidden Leaf is not about winning," he scoffed. "You repeatedly ignored advice given to you by your teachers on how to correct your technique, and so your performance is not up to standard."

"My technique is fine," I fired back, a little voice in the back of my head warning me of how much I would regret this later, but the memory of Hinata telling me about how each clan kid actually performed a different style of taijutsu spurred me onward. "J-just because it's different doesn't mean it's wrong."

"Asagiri!" Hyouroku barked, and I almost whimpered with the force of it. "Are you talking back to your teacher?"

"No, sensei," I muttered.

Satisfied, Hyouroku leaned back and crossed his arms. "What we teach here at this academy are the foundations of all principles of the Konoha shinobi," he said. "If you cannot respect that, then perhaps you would be more fit for civilian life."

Civilian life? Now I was upset. "Sensei, clan children have non-standard taijutsu styles, why can't I?" I could practically feel the depth of the hole I was digging for myself increase with each and every word.

"Because, Asagiri, those are styles pioneered by honourable Konoha clans, and not by traitorous scum of the Hidden Rain."

I fell into a dumb silence, not expecting him to come out with it that easily—I was half anticipating for him to make up another excuse for persecuting me in particular, but here it was.

The man glowered at me, misplaced disgust barely concealed across his scarred face. "You are aiming to be a shinobi of Konoha, are you not?"

I couldn't even blink.

Another few moments of breathless silence passed, then the tension in his frame dissipated. "You are dismissed, Asagiri. You do not need to return after the break for taijutsu class. Take this time to reflect on your actions; talking back to a superior is disgraceful conduct." He rolled up the scroll and promptly stormed away, leaving me in the empty classroom.

I stood there for a few more moments, processing all that had occurred. The faint sounds of children playing outside permeated the silence as I opened and closed my fists, wondering just what I had done. The warning voices that had been nagging at the back of my head the whole time finally came together in a jeering chorus of I told you so.

Had I just gotten suspended? Oh, Imiki was going to murder me.

I scoffed a little incredulously as I picked up my things with numb fingers. I just couldn't catch a goddamn break, could I?

I ignored the stares of classmates that happened to catch sight of me carrying my knapsack out of the building with me and played deaf to any calls of my name. The foreboding feeling of having to tell Imiki what I'd gotten myself into this time wasn't an unfamiliar one to me; it almost felt like all the times I'd had to inform my parents of a poor grade on a test in my previous life. Apparently it never got any easier.

As I stared down the lock on the apartment door, I pondered my options. Of course, there was always the righteous option of telling Imiki what I'd done, but that came with the consequence of having to bear the brunt of her wrath. Imiki took my education very seriously and was already at her wits end with me by the time report cards had been given out. The other option was, of course, to forge a new identity, assume a role as a regular civilian of Konoha, and never make contact with any of my canon-cast friends again, but I wasn't going to fool myself into believing that Imiki wouldn't be able to hunt me down.

Kicking the door open mournfully, I noted with a grim smile that this was the only day that Imiki had decided to skimp out on missions. Following the sound of discordant humming, I shamefully scuffed my feet at the doorway of our kitchen. My aunt turned around, eyes widened in surprise. "Futaba? What are you doing home so early?" Her eyes darted to my bare arms, then my legs, checking for any burns, then back to my face suspiciously when she found none.

"My teacher sent me home," I explained shortly. "He said I was failing taijutsu."

Imiki dropped the rubber gloves and came closer to me, eyes narrowed. "I'm going to need more context than that, Futaba-chan."

Eye contact felt like an immensely uncomfortable option at the moment, so I determinedly avoided my aunt's intense gaze and fixated somewhere on the chipped tile floor. "My teacher recognized my taijutsu style as being from…not from Konoha," I worded vaguely, "and he said that it was against academy values, or something. So if I don't 'try harder', I'll fail and have to repeat the year."

"Your taijutsu…" Imiki cut herself off, expression dropping in realization. "I see."

I waited for any indication that she was going to rain down the fires of hell on me, but none came. Contrarily, she looked...troubled, her delicate face contorted into an ugly frown. It slowly hit me that Imiki might have taken this as an insult of her own taijutsu abilities, since she was the one who had trained me before I entered the academy. But I was sure that she would have gone after me for not listening to the teachers or something. "I-Imiki-nee?"

"Right. Sorry, Futaba." She shook her head. "I'm going to need to take this up with your teacher's superiors."

"Eh?"

"The headmaster—no, I'll take this to the Hokage."

"Imiki-nee!" I gasped, appalled. What the hell was actually happening? "Wait—"

"Why, Futaba-chan?" Imiki took off her apron in a single jerky motion, hanging it on the cabinet handle with more force than was probably necessary. "This is a serious issue. Your sensei has no right to discriminate against you for your taijutsu style. It's not condemnable by any means—I went through the academy too, you know." She pursed her lips. "My teachers never penalized me for my taijutsu."

Roughly translated: your teacher in specific is the issue. Sure, I knew that Hyouroku was an asshat who was more prejudiced than most, but...I frowned in confusion, feeling a bit like the whirlwind that had consumed Imiki had completely missed me. "Can we really go to the Hokage over something like this?"

"I trust Sandaime-sama to listen to us properly," she explained like she was speaking to a toddler—which, well, I guess she wasn't that far off. "Now, come on. We'll head out immediately."

I might as well have been a sack of potatoes to Imiki with how she practically dragged me back down the road that led to school. The Hokage's office, located just down the road from the academy, was a looming building that emanated authority in the same way that tall skyscrapers housing rich business moguls did in my old world. I'd never had the honour of setting foot in the place, though, until now. My face flushed with embarrassment as Imiki continued to blaze onward through doors and past concerned personnel.

At the end of her crusade, Imiki sat me down on a bench at the beginning of a long hallway and instructed me to sit tight before disappearing to talk to someone, presumably someone that could get us an audience with the Hokage.

Groaning, I buried my face in my palms. Being sent home early was already embarrassing, but having your aunt pull the biggest may-I-speak-to-your-manager move possible was even more mortifying. I would have to make sure this never left the walls of the Hokage's office at all costs.

Before long, Imiki reemerged with a man that seemed to be a longsuffering assistant in tow. She beckoned for me to follow her, which I forced myself to with great trepidation.

It was hard to define, but I felt the Hokage before I saw him. Standing at the closed doors of his office felt like standing before a crate that you knew contained a sleeping lion—every hair on my neck stood on end, and all traces of slouchy reluctance I'd felt earlier immediately vanished. It was just beginning to sink in that my aunt was taking me to meet the real, actual Hokage, who would have to hear my aunt complain about my mean-ish teacher that threatened to fail me.

I gulped.

Sweaty Assistant Man led the way, pushing the doors open and allowing us to pass him and enter. "Hokage-sama, Nagayuu Imiki and her niece are here to see you."

For a moment, all I could see was a desk, and above it, a white diamond with an angry red dash of colour towards the brim. Then, the Hokage's head lifted, and I saw the weathered and wise face of Sarutobi Hiruzen.

The memories of the old man combined with what I knew about him from living in his village for six years formed a mental image of a kind but sturdy leader that was deathly powerful when required. The wrinkles that Naruto would frequently snicker about whenever he was mentioned in our conversations weren't something to be mocked, they were a testament to his strength—an old man in a profession where most die before their children are fully-grown is someone to be respected. Maybe even feared, depending on who you were.

However, looking at him now, I felt an odd sense of security. This was my first time meeting Hiruzen face-to-face, and for all intents and purposes, I should have been quaking in my children's ninja sandals, but I wasn't. He felt like the type of old man you'd see sitting in a public park every day at noon, flipping nonchalantly through the daily paper, or everyone's favourite great-uncle. Deep bags below each eye, and symmetrical markings extending down from his eyes to the hollows of his cheeks. His eyes fell on me first, then my aunt, and his face lit up with recognition.

"Hokage-sama," my aunt greeted, urgency clouding her otherwise colloquial tone.

"Imiki-chan," the Hokage returned graciously. The term of endearment caught me by surprise. "What's wrong? I thought you had the day off."

"Yes, Hokage-sama, but I'm here because of an issue my niece brought to my attention." She put her hand on my shoulder, squeezing affirmatively, and Hiruzen's gaze was back on me. I resisted the urge to instinctively shrink back into my aunt. "Hokage-sama is aware of our...situation, and Futaba-chan tells me that a teacher at the academy has threatened to fail her because of her taijutsu style."

The warmness in Hiruzen's demeanor faded as he laced his fingers together below his chin. "Is that so?" He leaned over his desk, trying to get a better look at me. The gesture was similar to what Hyouroku had done earlier today, but while one was intended to intimidate, this was meant to make Hiruzen feel more accessible to a young child. "Futaba-chan, was it?"

I nodded.

Hiruzen smiled lightly. "How old are you this year, Futaba-chan?"

"S-six, Hokage-sama," I replied. "It's my first year at the academy."

He hummed in acknowledgement. "It must be exciting to start the journey to becoming a shinobi of the Leaf, yes?"

So far, exciting wasn't so much the word I'd use to describe it—stressful, maybe. Harrowing? Regardless, I nodded again.

The old man smiled one last time at me before taking on a more serious tone with a clear of his throat. "Now, tell me about your teacher. What exactly did he say to you?"

With some hesitation, I retold as much as I could remember from this morning, trying not to feel like a childish tattle-tale and failing miserably. The Hokage's face remained static throughout my speech, while Imiki's grip tightened at times, specifically when I relayed the phrase 'traitorous scum'. At the end of my spiel, I swallowed and snuck a peek at my aunt through my peripheral vision.

Imiki's eyes were ablaze, but she managed to carefully compose herself before speaking. "Hokage-sama, when my sister and I first came to this village, you promised us we would be free to live like any other citizen of the Leaf, and though we sometimes faced harsh discrimination from fellow citizens, we understood that this was out of Hokage-sama's jurisdiction. However, for prejudice of this nature to be coming from a member of the academy's faculty is simply unacceptable. Futaba was born and raised in Konoha, and there is nothing wrong with her learning the style of taijutsu passed down in our family!"

Hiruzen sighed. "I agree, Imiki-chan, but it isn't easy to convince an old dog to give up his ways. The second and third Great Shinobi wars are still fresh in the memories of many veteran shinobi."

"Hokage-sama, all we've ever asked of you is to make sure we aren't targeted for our roots," Imiki insisted. "I'm aware that not even the Hokage can change the minds of every shinobi in the village, but you can at least do something about the teachers appointed in the academy, can't you?"

A pause followed her words, during which the Hokage breathed another sigh. "I understand," he finally acquiesced. He fished out a pipe from somewhere in his white robes, placing it between his lips and chewing on it for a moment. "Futaba-chan, who is this teacher, exactly?"

"H-Hyouroku-sensei." I couldn't remember his last name, which he surely must have given to us at some point, but I'd been too busy coming up with creative nicknames for him to retain that sort of information. Hopefully his first name was enough to identify him by.

"Ah." The pipe slid out from between his lips. "Watabe Hyouroku. A fine tokubetsu jounin who fought in the Second Great Shinobi War. I believe he led a platoon that was stationed in Ame, but he was the only one who returned." Hiruzen grimaced.

"That still doesn't give him the right to treat my niece any differently from the rest of her classmates," Imiki said plainly. "Can't you speak to him, Hokage-sama?"

"I can't guarantee that my words would change the way he treats Futaba-chan," warned the old man. "Shinobi like Hyouroku are not often receptive to change, nor are they open to acceptance. Grief can drive us near-mad." Something told me he was no longer thinking of my case, but of another mischievous child that was shunned by the village for circumstances outside of his control.

Imiki shifted. "Hokage-sama…"

"Let me offer you another option," Hiruzen continued, turning to face me fully. "We can arrange for you to transfer out of your class to one with a different set of teachers. Alternatively, perhaps I could convince Hyouroku to step down from his teaching position at the academy. Which would you prefer, Futaba-chan?"

The Hokage was offering to get my teacher fired and I could say yes right now and end his teaching career. I nearly shivered—this all was the opposite of what I wanted, I never wanted to draw attention to myself, I never wanted to make a big stink about my own circumstances—I had too much to worry about outside of trivial school matters. Moreover, it was the middle of the year, and a sudden transfer would attract a lot of unwanted attention, and I wasn't too keen on having to adjust to a whole new batch of snotty kids after I'd settled into my niche.

But the alternative had issues to consider, too. What if getting Hyouroku fired triggered some sort of butterfly effect? I still didn't know if my actions would cause ripples or not, but what if in the original timeline Hyouroku had existed off-screen and had somehow contributed to the setting as I knew it in the anime? There were too many variables to consider here, and I kind of just wanted to go home and take a nap at this point.

"I don't know, Hokage-sama," I finally squeaked, feeling my aunt's weighty stare on me. "I don't wanna transfer, but I don't want Hyouroku-sensei to get fired…but I also don't want to fail, and…"

"It's alright, Futaba-chan," Imiki murmured, rubbing circles on my upper back.

Hiruzen's brows knitted in contemplation. "Hm. Don't worry, Futaba-chan, you won't be failed over this," he assured me. "Your aunt and I will work something out, how does that sound?" He made a gesture with one hand, and suddenly the sweaty assistant man was back in the room—when had he disappeared? Damn ninjas. "For now, why don't you wait outside for a bit and let us grown-ups work out the details?"

The sudden hand on my shoulder informed me this was a rhetorical question, and I made sure to bow respectfully before the man escorted me out of the office.

The assistant gave up on trailing me after my third lap around the floor of the Hokage's office. The long hallway turned out to be a large ring enclosing the office, which was interesting architecture but horribly boring to wait around in. I just had to keep moving to stave the anxiety of today's events.

Occasionally, parties of busy, powerful-looking people would bustle by urgently, seldom noticing me lurking around in the halls amidst their rapid-fire conversations—in a way, I felt like I really was in a normal office building, except these people didn't wear suits and sweater-vests, but padded vests and kunai holders. A particularly large group of people had me sliding up against the wall to make way for them. One of them almost knocked me to the side, but luckily I was quick on my feet and stumbled away in time. God, did these people have eyes?

Grumbling under my breath, I made my way towards a bench to rest on when a sudden wave of nausea hit me. Confusedly, I tried to blink away the dizziness and ride out the sudden urge to puke, but it wasn't going away. When the nausea gave way to a strange sense of fear, I knew this was something bad and different altogether.

My vision swirled, and I felt so cold, so cold—I needed to get out of here. I looked around frantically for any windows, but my eyes wouldn't focus properly. Shadows were creeping in at the edge of my vision. What was wrong with me? I had to leave—

"Miss?" A firm hand gripped my shoulder and shook.

I heard a muffled voice that sounded like Imiki ask, "What's wrong with her?"

"I-I don't know, Nagayuu-san. I turned around, and she was in this state."

Just as suddenly as it had come on, I felt the dizziness and sickly feeling fade. Blinking disorientedly, I managed to focus on my aunt's face. A crease had formed between her brows. "I'm okay, Imiki-nee," I assured her, but my head was still spinning with confusion. "A-are you guys done?"

My aunt nodded. "We can go now. Let's go get you some fresh air."

With my arm in a firm grip by Imiki, we were escorted out of the building. The Hokage's office wasn't exactly suffocating, but the further away we got from it, the better I felt. Now that my head was clear, I had time to question what had just happened. Why the sudden rush of queasiness? I must have eaten something out of date this morning...or maybe I'd drank something cold after eating something oily?

Never mind that. I had more important things to worry about. "Imiki-nee, what did you and Hokage-sama talk about?"

Imiki swung my arm lightly. "Well," she said slowly. "We talked about it for a while, and Sandaime-sama agreed to speak with your teacher. You won't be transferred, and your teacher won't be fired...for now, and hopefully, he'll ease up on you a bit."

"For now?" I pressed, frowning.

"Yes, it turns out that after further investigation, Hyouroku-sensei was planning to retire some time in the next few years," Imiki explained, looking elsewhere. "Hokage-sama said he would talk it over with him. That's all." She smiled down at me. "Don't worry, Futaba-chan—you won't be failed this year, not for your taijutsu, at least. Your ninja theory, on the other hand…"

"Anyways," I cut in with a nervous laugh. "That's good. I'm glad, at least…"

I felt our pace slow to a stop, and I looked up at Imiki questioningly. She wasn't looking at me, though, but at something to our left. I peered around her and saw the clearing that was home to the Memorial Stone. We hadn't visited it together for a long time—Imiki was too busy to accompany me on monthly visits anymore, but I still found myself placing flowers at the base of the big rock during my errands out of habit.

Wordlessly, we took a left and wandered over to the memorial. I noted the countless rows of new names etched onto it that had been added since my last visit. It was a cruel world where it was so easy to die in daily life, and yet the names on the stone didn't always sink in, like car accident statistics. I located my own parents' names on the stone and felt a sobering atmosphere envelop us instantly.

Imiki released my hand gently, stepping up to face the Memorial Stone. "Rurae-nee," I heard her whisper. "It's been a while. I hope you and that guy, Takeshi, are still doing well…"

As I listened, I clasped my hands together before my chin, staring intently at the two names.

"I'm doing my best to protect Futaba-chan like you protected me," she continued. "I hope I'm doing a good job of it…it gets hard sometimes, though. Sometimes it feels like this entire village is out to get us." She paused. I saw her jaw tighten, then her head shake. In a thin, barely-audible voice, she whispered, "Nee-chan, you were the only one I trusted in this whole village. I'm not sure what to do with myself now that you're…I just...I just wish I could talk to you about everything that's been happening lately. About what I know. You always knew what to do..."

Imiki had never sounded this distressed during our previous visits. I glanced up at her worriedly, but her eyes were screwed shut. All I could do was watch as she spoke.

About what you know…? What exactly do you know, Imiki?

She seemed to have shaken herself out of it, though, and sighed before finishing, "I'll keep working hard. Please keep us safe." She nudged me, jolting me out of my thoughts. "Do you have anything to say, Futaba-chan?"

"I, uh," I sputtered intelligently. I didn't usually speak whenever I came here, instead opting to bask in the solemnity for a few minutes before continuing on my merry way. The death of my parents in this world was shocking at the time, as I'd never really had to deal with loss so close to home in my other life, but in reality I didn't have many memories with them to reflect on and it felt disingenuous to pretend otherwise. "Erm…Okaa-san, Otou-san, I hope you're both well…"

Wherever you are in your new lives. Hopefully Enma didn't mess that up for you, too.

"I'm working hard, as always."

Working hard to stay alive.

"Please continue to watch over me and Imiki-nee…"

Especially Imiki, because I'm not sure about her these days…

"...that's all."

Imiki clasped my shoulder, completely unaware of my suspicions and worries. "Let's go home, Futaba-chan."

whew

you know i labelled this story a "SI/OC" story but it's really just an isekai oc… we don't really have much in common at the end of the day ^^'

things we have in common: a birthday in spring, wing chun experience, and knowing our way around a bō :p

anyways another thing i wanted to say is that i'm thinking of switching to biweekly updates seeing as, at the time of writing this, i'm more than 10 chapters ahead of where we are right now… so i'll probably update with chapter 24 sometime this week. i'd like to catch up to where i am in the story as soon as possible, but i'll just have to see if my writing spree continues :')