By the time the bottom of the sun skimmed the horizon, my knuckles were almost raw with the effort of beating the training dummy over and over again.

I didn't know what to do.

I was used to being at least eye-level with most superiors in my old life, and even if they didn't take my gripes seriously, they wouldn't be able to literally look down on me as they told me off. But here, I wasn't just weak compared to the authorities, I was weak compared to everyone else, too. Naruto had his monstrous chakra stores and the Kyuubi's protection, even if he hadn't realized it yet. Shikamaru was mad smart, Sasuke was mad talented, and everyone else had some sort of clan bonus or boost that I wasn't eligible for as a mob character.

This was a world where people our age could graduate from the academy and become trained assassins, for crying out loud. How could I possibly hope to outsmart someone who was constantly being praised for being a genius of geniuses when I was just me? No, better yet, why should I be expected to outsmart him? Just because I had knowledge of a possible future, I had to suddenly take on the responsibilities of the world and change things for the better? I was a kid too, wasn't I? Realistically, there was nothing I could do, especially not when the world had decided to gift me approximately no talent and no influence.

The dummy's head went flying with a loud crack, and I staggered back in shock, watching with wide eyes when its head landed a few yards away from me. Only then did I realize how heated my fists had gotten as I'd let my thoughts spiral out of control. My knuckles were angry and red, with charred bits of skin peeling off painfully. The glow that emanated from beneath the skin persisted even as the adrenaline began to fade and the pain kicked in.

I'd never generated this much power before, and my body was quick to punish me for it. I couldn't hold in the cry of pain when I unclenched my fists, tears of frustration welling up in my eyes.

I was so weak.

How had the canon kids done it? I was a fifteen-year-old when I'd "died" in my other life, and adding on these extra years here, I should have been around twenty-one. And yet, I was still so helpless—how had twelve-year-olds fought world-ending demons and assassination attempts when all I could do was wallow?

I allowed myself a few more minutes of self-pity until all the adrenaline had faded and the painful sting in my fists demanded attention. I fumbled in my pouch for bandages, hissing in pain whenever my fingers curled around something, and hastily got to work in wrapping my hands—a task that proved near-impossible when both hands were equally scathed. To my added dissatisfaction, the academy was closed now, meaning I couldn't pop in for a quick visit with the medics.

"Futaba-chan, are you alright?"

I whipped around, dropping the bandages in my haste. I felt the figurative cloud over my head darken into a storm cloud as I recognized the distinct light mist-coloured hair of my aunt's beloved teammate, Waki. Honestly, my suspicions towards Waki had become sidelined once I'd regained my memories, but it was important that I remembered just why I'd lost them in the first place.

Over the past couple days I'd toyed with the idea of Waki being the hooded figure, but there were certain things that didn't add up. For one, Waki, in all his skin-crawling eeriness, had never made me physically ill before, and I didn't see why making me ill would benefit him, either. While his knowledge of herbs and natural remedies could provide a means for how he'd made me sick to the point of puking, I highly doubted that any sort of herb or natural agent that could elicit such acute nausea would only affect me when the festival had been so crowded. Nevertheless, I couldn't let my guard down until I knew who and what had made me pass out that day.

When he was close enough to see what I had been doing, he tutted and picked up the bandages from the dirt. "My, my. Your hands, Futaba-chan…here, let me heal them for you."

Without waiting for my response, he took my smaller hands into his and got to work, a light glow encasing our joined hands. I was tempted to yank my hands away in repulsion, but damn, he was good. I could almost feel the skin repairing itself.

"You know, you have very impressive chakra control for your age," Waki mused. "What you were doing just now, boosting your taijutsu with chakra, is something you don't learn until much later. Many chuunin, even some jounin have trouble with it." He gave me a smile. "You're very strong, Futaba-chan."

My ass. Stubbornly, I refused to dignify him with an answer.

He continued, unfazed. "Your aunt doesn't want you using your chakra this much, but you're still training with it, hm? Such a determined child." He let out a hapless sigh. "I don't understand Imiki sometimes. You two have such a unique and interesting ability, but she's too afraid to face it or even think about it. Your chakra routinely leaves moderate burns and your body still heals fully each time—that's an impressive capacity for healing, Futaba-chan. Can't she see your potential? You've even attempted water-walking, something high-level shinobi struggle with…"

My blood ran cold as I thought back to when I had tried walking on water. When was that? Last summer? The summer before? Had he been watching me all this time? I hadn't noticed at all.

Why was he so obsessed with me?

"Not with that Uchiha boy today, hm?" Waki commented neutrally. I wondered which one he was referring to. Then, with another click of his tongue, "Probably for the better…you're a good girl, Futaba-chan. You should avoid getting into trouble in the future. Those Uchiha…they'll bring you nothing but trouble, take it from me." He chuckled.

I couldn't take it any longer. My eyes darted about around him nervously, looking for anyone I could latch onto as an escape. I struck gold when I saw two boys wandering down the path that bordered the training field I stood in—one with a pineapple ponytail, and the other with a bag of chips.

Without warning, I wrenched my arms free of Waki's loose grip and tore away towards the two boys. "Oi!" I exclaimed, getting their attention. Once I was close enough, I wedged myself between them and slung my not-fully-healed arms over their shoulders. "Are you guys going home now?"

Choji sputtered in confusion. "Eh? What are you doing?"

"Hahaha! That's a good one, Choji!" I made eye contact with Shikamaru and gave him a desperate look. Please play along.

Shikamaru sent a cursory glance back at what I'd just run from, and then back to me in what felt like the longest second of my life. Finally, he sighed, catching on. "We were gonna grab a bite to eat. Where to, Choji?"

Choji recovered immediately at the mention of food. "Well, there's a place that sells awesome desserts down by the library, and I heard they have a sale today," he began, happily rambling away about the different sweets they sold for cheap. I didn't let up on my grip on them until we reached the crossroads that lead to downtown Konoha. Once I did, both boys rounded on me with meaningful stares.

"What the heck was that about?" Shikamaru demanded. Choji nodded in agreement.

I bit my cheek, glancing over my shoulder to make sure Waki wasn't there, but my heart sank when I remembered that he'd been watching me for years without my knowledge. He could be anywhere. "I can't explain right now, but thank you," I said sincerely. Without another word, I turned and sprinted down the path that would take me home.

I found myself making a beeline for Sasuke's desk during our lunch break one day, leaving a just barely-awake Naruto behind. When I got there, I realized I had no plan and impulsively grabbed at whatever worksheet happened to be in front of him. Elementary fuinjutsu. I wrinkled my nose, recalling my horrible fuinjutsu score from last term. I was horrible at calligraphy. "Can I copy this?"

"What? Do it yourself," Sasuke said, but he didn't make any move to take his paper back, which I took as permission to carry on.

I pouted teasingly, scanning his neatly printed answers and trying to commit them to memory. Final examinations for first year were around the corner, and I needed all the help I could get. As naturally as possible, I snuck a look at Sasuke and asked, "By the way, how's your brother?"

Sasuke didn't comment on the abruptness of the question, and I thanked whatever higher power was out there that he was too eager to talk about Itachi to think deeply into it. "He trained with me yesterday, and he even taught me how to use senbon. Wanna see?" We weren't taught how to use real senbon until at least next year. Even the school administration in a world of ninjas knew that entrusting kids this young with real needles might not be the best idea.

"Nah, I see my aunt using senbon all the time," I muttered absently, looking over his worksheet one last time before setting it down. Sasuke looked disappointed, probably upset that I'd deprived him of an opportunity to show off, but I'd gotten what I wanted. "Well, see ya."

I hadn't made any progress in pinpointing the exact date of the massacre, nor the dates of every significant event that would follow. The best I could do was write down anecdotal information I could remember about how each scene had appeared. I remembered a scene wherein Sasuke was running home the night of the massacre—the sky had been clear, and Itachi had briefly posed against the moon for Sasuke to see. There wasn't any snow on the ground, so it hadn't happened in the winter, and it had to be clear skies for the full moon to be visible, so that ruled out cloudy and rainy days in the foreseeable future.

Keeping track of Itachi was the safest way to keep track of the timeline. I knew his relationship with Sasuke, however strained it could be sometimes, was vital to the procession of the story. While his relationship with Itachi had always teetered the line between adoration and resentment, I would expect to see a noticeable shift soon as Itachi became more and more influential.

Seeing as Sasuke spoke of his brother in good spirits, I could tentatively dub today a 'safe' day.

I skipped back down to my seat, where Naruto was stretching his arms above his head. "Finally awake?"

"Mmh," Naruto replied through a yawn. "What'd I miss, 'ttebayo?"

"Nothing," I said, but in reality, I hadn't really been paying attention, either. There was too much on my mind lately, and even though I knew my final exam marks would suffer for it, I just couldn't bring myself to open the notebook on my desk. "Move it, I'm gonna take a nap."

After the painful bump in the road that was final exams, my first year at the academy finally came to an end, and February drew to a close. During our last day together as a class, Naruto looked uncharacteristically anxious as he asked, "D'you think we'll be in the same class next year, Futaba-chan?"

I shrugged, looking around at the class full of energetic kids, some mournful, some excited that exams were finally over. "Maybe, maybe not." If the universe intended on continuing my torture, then it was almost certain we would be. As time went on, the pool of aspiring shinobi would shrink as civilian children became disenchanted one by one, so it was inevitable that all the important characters would end up together in the end.

Naruto fell silent next to me, that strange anxiety still there, and I felt a little remorseful about my blunt response. Quickly, I put on a smile and nudged him. "Hey, even if we aren't, I'll come find you at lunch."

Satisfied, Naruto brightened up again.

As it turned out, Naruto had worried for nothing because our second-year class assignments were nearly identical to last year's.

My seventh birthday was a small and quiet affair. Shuu and Kouko joined my aunt and I for a ceremonial cutting of birthday cake at our apartment, and I was pleasantly surprised when Shuu remembered to get me a gift this time, too. Even more surprising was what the gift turned out to be. I pried open the box, then instantly felt my heart skip a beat when a familiar piece of technology slid out. A walkie-talkie?

"It's a portable radio communicator," Shuu explained proudly. "I have one, too, so we can talk from almost anywhere in Konoha."

Kouko snickered, cupping her mouth and whispering to me, "He saved up several weeks' worth of allowance for it." Shuu whined and swatted his sister, flushing in embarrassment.

At the end of the night, Imiki gathered us kids together for a celebratory picture, then proceeded to chew us out for still having cake crumbs slewn about on our faces and clothes.

It was a good night.

For the time being, I allowed myself to relax, even if only a little bit—we were well into March, and snow still coated the ground. We were having an exceptionally cold spring this year in Konoha, which may not have boded well for the local farmers, but definitely put my anxieties at ease. As long as there was snow on the ground, we were safe.

I continued to try and naturally survey Sasuke about his brother, but I had a feeling if I continued like this much longer, he'd eventually call me out for it. I silenced such thoughts and pulled out the chair in front of Sasuke's desk like I had every few days since the term started.

"Yo," I greeted easily. "Pass me your homework." I didn't wait for him to do so, catching sight of it and laying it next to mine so that I could copy it. Sasuke barely acknowledged me, too used to my routine by now. "How's Itachi?"

Sasuke frowned and remained silent. Pausing in my scribbling, I took note of his nonresponse. "Not good, huh?"

"He's fine," Sasuke snapped, bringing his legs up onto his chair. "He's just...busy. With Anbu stuff." He screwed his eyes shut. "Why do you wanna know, anyway? Do you...like him or something?"

"M-me?" I dropped my pencil, aghast. "Yeah, right. As if."

"Wait, what's that supposed to mean? What's wrong with my nii-chan?" Sasuke said defensively.

Putting aside everything else that I knew about him, wasn't Itachi, like, twelve? Yeah, I was definitely not going to open that can of worms. I shuddered, packing up and getting ready to go. "That's all I needed."

The only thing more unbearable than not being able to tell your loved ones you knew how they'd meet their ends was having to sit with them in silence and pretend that you didn't. This was why I resorted to eating alone more and more lately on the nights when Imiki was out on missions rather than at the compound with Shuu like I often would in the past. On the bright side, Shiro's gave me extra portions whenever I dined alone, probably out of pity.

Tonight was one of those nights. I occupied a table outside, the cool air creating a pleasant contrast with the hot soup. "Thanks for the meal," I murmured before digging in. The searing heat that hit my tongue and burned caught me by surprise, and my chopsticks clattered back into my bowl as I hacked my lungs out. Dammit, even in this life, I couldn't handle spicy food…

A man and his child had approached my table during my coughing fit, the man patting my back. Once I'd finally calmed down, I turned to thank them but froze when I saw the matching blonde heads of Yamanaka Ino and Inoichi. Ino froze in return, looking at me with disdain.

Inoichi, on the other hand, looked happy to see me. "Ah, it's you! I remember you. Let's see, a bundle of carnations? Oh, and gallow-weed, once." When I realized he was listing my usual orders at Yamanaka Flowers, I nodded, not trusting my scalded throat. "My! What a coincidence, running into you here, hm?"

Ino shifted uncomfortably, eyeing me judgmentally. Could she still be mad at me for beating up Sakura last year? "I guess it is, Yamanaka-san."

"But whatever are you doing here alone, Carnations-chan? Do you live here?" Inoichi glanced at the sign for Shiro's Soups above us.

"No, my aunt Imiki is just busy tonight," I explained, fighting the urge to eat in the presence of respected company, but man, was I hungry…

"Imiki? Oh, right, Nagayuu Imiki." Inoichi stroked his chin, deep in thought. "That means you must be...the child of Asagiri Takeshi and Rurae?"

"You knew my parents?" I asked, dumbfounded. Even Ino seemed somewhat interested in the conversation now.

"I worked with them a few times out on the field back in the day," Inoichi explained. "They were fine shinobi, indeed. A shame they had to meet their ends so soon, but rest assured they were real heroes to the rest of us." He spoke carefully, like he was afraid any wrong word would cause me to burst into tears.

It's alright, Inoichi, I'm not made of glass. I hardly knew them anyway.

Ino huffed, putting her hands on my table confrontingly. Clearly, the young girl hadn't quite grasped the concept of tact yet. "Tou-chan, you're so boring," she drawled, staring me down. "No one wants to hear about ancient history."

Her father flinched as if stricken, then laughed hollowly.

Ino slid into the chair across from mine, still glaring. "Sakura told me you gave her a fish and apologized."

Memories of our chance encounter at the festival flitted through my head. "What's it to you?"

"Hmm." She hummed, eyes narrowed. "Don't think just 'cause you said sorry and gave her some fish that you're okay in my books, got it?"

Who knew little kids could be so surly? I frowned, trying to think of an appropriate response, but Inoichi filled in the silence for me. "Now, now, Ino, that's no way to speak to your friend…"

"She's not my friend." Ino continued, her fierce expression slipping right off her face. "Now…Asagiri. Tell me."

"Y-yes?" Instinctively, I came to attention, cowed by her tone. It seemed that Ino had an authoritative streak that was sorely underutilized in canon.

"That boy you're always with." She leaned forward. "He's in the year above us, right?"

"Huh?" This was certainly not the direction I was expecting this conversation to go. She must have been referring to Shuu, but I was too dumbfounded to formulate any sort of intelligent response. Eventually, I sputtered, "Y-yeah."

Ino's eyes widened with interest. "Who is he? He's kind of cool…" She leaned back, suddenly looking her age again as she played with her short blonde hair.

I wasn't sure whose jaw dropped faster, mine or Inoichi's. His fatherly dismay was practically palpable, and I pitied the man who had no idea that this was just an omen of what was to come in Ino's future. "Who, Shuu?" I stammered once my jaw regained function. "Uchiha Shuu?"

"Shuu-kun…" Ino tested out his name curiously. Then, with excitement, "Ne, ne, I saw him get in a fight once last year. None of the boys in our year could ever be that cool."

"Well, I wouldn't exactly call Shuu cool by any means…" It was just immensely uncomfortable and a little creepy to be involved in the drama of playground crushes as a fully-grown teenager. Trying to find a way to escape the awkwardness of the situation, I took another bite of my sweet and spicy tofu soup. Still unbearable. Damn, couldn't I have left my weak palate behind in my other body?

"Ino…!" Inoichi looked absolutely betrayed. "What happened to wanting to marry tou-chan…?"

"Tou-chan isn't cool enough!"

K.O, I thought grimly as Inoichi wilted. Poor guy. They grow up so fast, don't they?

With a sigh, the man straightened back up and put his hand on Ino's shoulder. "At any rate, if you're ever in need of a meal and don't feel like eating alone, you're welcome to stop by the shop any time. Any friend of Ino's is a friend of mine."

The look Ino was giving me right now was practically the furthest thing from friendly—I had a feeling that Inoichi might have been overestimating just how welcome I would be, but I appreciated the sentiment anyway. "Thank you, Yamanaka-san." I bowed my head, bidding them goodbye, and while Ino slid out of her chair, Inoichi didn't move.

"Say, Asagiri-chan, is everything alright?" he prodded. I set my chopsticks down again, lost. "You look different somehow from the last time I saw you. Are you getting enough sleep?"

I caught a glimpse of my reflection in a nearby piece of scrap metal set against the side of the shop. Did I look any different? Sure, I hadn't been getting much sleep lately, but no one else had called me out for it yet. "I'm having trouble sleeping lately," I admitted, giving him an innocent smile and reaching for my spoon. "Nightmares."

"Is that so," Inoichi hummed. He snapped his fingers. "I could give you some gallow-weed on the house. Remember what I told you about it? Supposedly, it's very effective in keeping night terrors away. No long term effects on the body, too."

"No!" I exclaimed, slamming down my spoon. The man looked taken aback at my sudden response, and I fumbled to recover from it. "I-I mean, that's fine, Yamanaka-san. Really." I put on my best facade of a seven-year-old's smile and repeated, "No gallow-weed. I-I think I'm allergic."

That night, I flopped down onto my futon and groaned. If my distress was noticeable to an outsider like Inoichi, I'd have to work on pulling myself together, otherwise I'd stand out and cause other problems for myself, problems that I had no time to deal with. I turned to face my messy, incomprehensible timeline, which I'd made sure to write in nearly indecipherable child-scribble, doodles, and random bits of English so that Imiki would dismiss it as some form of childhood scrapbooking. Then again, what do I have time to deal with at this point?

I rummaged in the fold of the thick blanket of my futon, fishing out a couple prized possessions. Among them were my mother's hitai-ate, the oni ring from New Year's, and the newest addition, my walkie-talkie. Pressing on the series of buttons as instructed by Shuu, I waited for it to buzz before speaking into it. "Shuu, are you there?" Silence followed. I pressed the buttons again. "Shuu?"

"—taba—hear me?"

I sat up, staring into the speaker of the transceiver excitedly. "Shuu, I can hear you!" It had been so long since I'd used anything remotely resembling modern-world technology that the rush of familiarity it brought with it almost made me emotional.

The buzzing sound of static eventually cleared, and I was able to hear a scratchy rendition of Shuu's voice. "I can hear you too! What's going on?"

Rolling back onto my stomach, I kicked my feet in the air idly. "Nothing, I was just bored. What're ya doing?"

"I just—inished training," came the muffled voice. "You?"

"Nothing. I was about to go to sleep, but I can't."

"Why? Afraid of the dark?"

"No, dumbass," I grumbled without any real spite, my eyes travelling to my wall again against my own volition. "I just have a bad feeling for some reason."

I heard the sound of something brushing up against the microphone, and I pulled the speaker away from my ear with a wince. "What, do you need a lullaby or something?"

"Shut up." I sighed, reaching for the switch on my floor lamp. "I'm gonna sleep now. Goodnight, Shuu."

"Night-night, scaredy-cat." Then the line went dead.

I set down the walkie-talkie next to my pillow carefully, curling up in my blankets. I'm safe for now, I reassured myself. He's safe for now, too. I'm safe. I can breathe for now.

Repeating these words to myself silently like a mantra, I felt myself slip away into a fitful rest.

whenever futaba thinks something like "well i'm a big grown-up" when she's around kids only to immediately retreat back to "no! im a kid nvm!" whenever she's confronted with trouble i laugh

in other news we've reached 500 follows holy cow! [party poppers] i think it'd only be right for me to shout-out the user QuietCat15, whose kind review was one of the reasons i finally came out of my deep sleep to start writing again ^^ any reviews are greatly appreciated, it's nice to know that i'm not just speaking into the void !

(that being said, i still appreciate the silent readers out there, too)