The idea came to Hitomi, with the subtlety of a storm, during a restless night. She sat up on her bed, eyes wide open, her body tensed by a rush of adrenaline, then threw the covers away and stood up, the movement so quick she almost tripped on the cold floor. She had to fight with the desk lamp to get some light, cursed at her fingers, turned feverish by her haste.

She grabbed a notebook, still untouched, and started jotting down ideas as fast as she possibly could, almost afraid to forget something. She knew she couldn't, but still. She almost felt like flying, pure euphoria pumping through her veins as she saw her pen scribble all the pieces she would need for this project. It was feasible – and she couldn't understand how no Seal Master had ever thought of it.

"Hitomi?"

Startled out of her trance, she threw her pen in the direction of the voice by reflex. Ensui caught it between his index and middle finger and raised an eyebrow, looking at the tiny thing that could have killed him if he hadn't been a shinobi. Okay, that was a good reflex to have for a young, future kunoichi, but still. "Wanna explain why you're up in the middle of the night despite knowing I expect you ready for training at dawn?"

Only then did she look up from her notebook. Ensui couldn't muffle his laugh when he saw the state she was in, ink staining her skin up to the tip of her nose. It made him look back and reflect on his own training, ages ago. He certainly hadn't tried to appear clean or neat when he was in a studying frenzy. Once again, he mentally thanked Shikaku and the Hermit for giving him such an apprentice.

"I'm s-sorry, shishou. It's just… I had this idea, something that could change the world or at least be an awesome tool for us, one day. I can't go back to sleep now, I just can't. I'm not even tired, I swear."

With a sigh, Ensui came into her room, his bare feet producing an almost inaudible pitter-patter against the tatamis. Hitomi had made fun of his shuriken pyjamas, with this gleam in her eyes that meant she did it out of affection. Now, she didn't even notice it anymore. It was just a cute outfit for a big, terrifying ninja. He tied his hair in a hasty ponytail – he probably wasn't going to get anymore sleep – then looked at her work, his hand rubbing her frail shoulder when he noticed she was cold.

It took him a while to understand what she was up to. It was very technical, her notes using kanjis and ornaments he had never used and barely remembered seeing in the books he had given her to study. Frowning, he brushed a kanji in particular with his finger then tapped on it, as if to emphasise his deep thinking. "It is possible… But you'd have to work like hell to do it, kid."

"Can I try?" she asked. "Please, shishou!"

He met her stare and almost stumbled from the strength of those large red eyes, full of supplication, avidity and impatience. He didn't have a chance against such a stare and he knew it. His hand softly patted her shoulder. She had grown a lot these past few months. He noticed it sometimes, like someone would notice a train hitting them full force. "I think you can succeed. Fine, I'll allow it, but on one condition: it can't interfere with your other duties, to me or to your friend."

She'd have less free time that way, but Ensui knew she would manage it just fine. She wouldn't break under any pressure, he was sure of it. He didn't want to test that hypothesis, of course, but she had taken the best traits from the Nara clan and from her terror of a mother. He could already see the girl walk in Kurenai's steps in that regard and even surpass her. By the time she hit puberty, the whole village would probably have a reason to fear and love her.

It was settled then. That night, Hitomi didn't sleep, so deeply immersed in her complex calculations and test strokes that she didn't see the time pass. When Gaara walked in her room the following morning, she was still bent on her notebook, now almost full of notes of all kinds. She rubbed her eyes, staining them a bit more with black ink. She looked a bit like her friend, now, or like a chirpy little raccoon.

"Oh, thank you, Gaara!" She stood up and hugged him. She had discovered he loved hugs but didn't dare ask for them, so she had taken it upon herself to hug him at least five times a day. He didn't know how to react quite yet but it was coming to him slowly, and already he understood how to wrap his arms around her neck to hold her close. He almost purred with pleasure. So fucking cute.

"Did you decide to shower with an inkwell, Hitomi-nee?"

The girl looked up, startled, and stumbled upon her reflection in the mirror suspended behind her door. She grimaced when she realised the state she was in. She had ink all over her face and hands, even in her hair. That would be a pain to wash. "Uh… I'm gonna take a shower and change, okay? Go wait with Ensui-shishou, I won't be too long."

She was long, but trying to get those stains to disappear from her pale skin involved a liberal amount of scrapping and soap. When she was done and more or less clean, she put on her training outfit and went to join her mentor and friend to the training room, wondering at the way her clothes felt too tight and a size or two too little for her. In this life, would she continue growing and reach a decent size? Five feet seven inches sounded good, for a kunoichi.

In the training room, with Gaara following each of her movements, she greeted the sun with a contented sigh. Her back and shoulders had suffered that night and it relieved her to no end to move once more. Her spine and joints snapped right in place again as she stretched through the routine of the greeting, pushing further than she usually did. She had to find something, a way for her body to stay in top condition even when she worked on theoretical subjects. Her enemies wouldn't politely wait until she was done creating a seal before beating the shit out of her. She couldn't allow herself to take it easy, in any kind of way.

That day, she fought against a clone, with weapons this time. Ensui tried to discover which type of blade would suit her the most – he didn't like her to wander around without steel in a foreign village but knew he couldn't give her even the dullest kunai. Ensui didn't like much about Sunagakure, really. The sand annoyed him to no end, all the water around tasted like rust, and the sun burned like hell. Despite the constant unhappy grumble at the back of his mind, he always took care of putting sunscreen on Hitomi's paler, more fragile skin before doing it for himself. She needed it more, and he could take the pain if he delayed enough to get a sunburn.

Kunai, as main weapons, didn't suit Hitomi. They were too short, and even with one in each hand, she felt almost unbalanced when she tried to create a safety circle around her body. It wasn't any better when she attacked: she hated being forced to stick to an opponent like glue to have a chance to land a hit. With a katana, she had another problem: she lacked accuracy, and the length of the blade disturbed the still hesitant harmony of her hits. She almost screamed with frustration when, trying to dodge a punch from the clone, she impaled herself on the wooden katana's guard.

The tantō, though, felt perfect from the moment she tried her first swing with it. It was shorter, but not to the point of her not being able to defend herself, and lighter as well. It was a short and straight version of a katana, with a guard fit only for a one-handed hold. The tantō adjusted itself to her, rather than the other way around. She tested it against Ensui's shadow clone until her shoulders shook with exhaustion. She felt so incredibly good.

"Well, I think we found your weapon, Hitomi. Go play with Gaara and be back in time for your lesson."

The girl nodded, a smile on her lips. She took care of putting back all the wooden weapons she'd used, respecting of her mentor's efforts to get them, then she took off with her friend. She knew how difficult it had been for Ensui to gain the right to train her on foreign grounds. She still listened to gossip, wherever she was, and she understood how fragile the peace between Konoha and Sunagakure was. And the situation would get worse before it got better, if she didn't find a way to change things. Maybe she already had, with Gaara, but she couldn't be sure, not before events unfolded.

She went with Gaara to a little stand not so far away from the hotel. It sold food that was practical to eat as they walked, and Gaara really liked it. Her own palate had gotten used to the spices Sunajin seemed to throw in every dish in liberal amounts. She didn't feel hot anymore when she ate, which was really for the best. Gaara, at least, couldn't make fun of her red cheeks and sweaty forehead anymore.

The two kids had a pleasant afternoon, as always. Sometimes, other children dared to try messing up with Hitomi, but one look at Gaara always made them back away. The girl was glad her friend protected her that way: it would be so bad for the peace if she grabbed one brat and used him to hit the others. The fact they had started it wouldn't matter then.

When Gaara walked her back to the hotel, she was more enthusiastic than usual and had a hard time hiding it. After all, he'd be the first to receive her secret project, if it worked like she had intended it to. She hugged him, not caring one bit when the sand rose around them. Gaara couldn't always control his power and she had gotten used to the tiny scratches he left her with sometimes. They didn't even hurt anymore.

She found Ensui in their living room. He was waiting for her, a chemistry book opened on his lap, his long legs crossed. His hair was still damp from his last shower, probably an effort to fight off the Desert's heat – a pointless effort, if his discreet frown was any indication. After taking a biscuit from the tray he had left her, she sat on the ground, looking up to him, and the lesson started. It was madly interesting. Hitomi wasn't satisfied with the colour of her smoke bombs, so he had decided to talk to her about pigments: he explained their origins, their potency, the particular effects she could expect if she mixed them with other chemicals.

After that, he gave her a history lesson, focusing on the last Shinobi World War, of which he had been a big part. It was during those dreadful fights that he had gained his nickname, Konoha's Strangling Shadow. Now the Bingo Book advised shinobi not to fight him, except if they could count on the support of two Jōnin. Right at the beginning of the lesson, Hitomi understood her mentor hated war, found it dirty and pointless. Yet, he had followed orders, because he was loyal to Shikaku and to the Nara Clan. He finished by telling her about the incident that had made him lose all respect for Hiruzen Sarutobi, Hokage the Third.

"I had a son, a ten years old boy, when ROOT reappeared. He was incredibly talented, a genius even, just like you and Shikamaru. He could master his shadows with an accuracy that even I lack. Of course, we were living through dangerous times. Despite his young age, he was already a Genin and the rumour was he'd be promoted soon. Danzō took him from his team while I was away on a mission and put that dreadful seal on his tongue. He sent my boy to dangerous missions he couldn't tell me anything about. He always came back wounded – one day, he didn't come back at all. They told me his body couldn't be found. I still don't know why he died, what obscure mission was worth him dying. I couldn't… I couldn't even give him a service."

Hitomi was lost for words. She didn't know what to say, what could possibly make her shishou's pain a little bit more bearable. Such words probably didn't even exist. She had to settle with putting a hand on his forearm without looking at him, because she knew how embarrassed he would be if he knew she could see and hear his tears. He had never cried in front of her. A lot of shinobi found tears disgraceful, a sign of weakness. She disagreed. One had to be strong to cry, to face their own distress.

After that, the lesson stopped. Hitomi got up and brought a glass of lemonade to her mentor, then fetched her books so she could work there, sitting her back against one of his legs. After an hour or so, he got himself back together enough to be able to watch over her shoulder and tell her some piece of information that would be useful to her project. Thanks to him, she advanced a lot on her research that night, even if she wasn't quite ready for an experiment yet.

"You'll need a lot of paper for this, I guess."

She hummed in answer, busy biting on her pen, then answered in more detail. "I think I want to use notebooks for them, so you can easily carry one around but it won't get crumpled if you rough it up a little. Hardcover notebooks, I guess. Do you think I could find some at a bookshop?"

He considered it for a few seconds then answered, tapping his fingers against his knee as if to help gather his thoughts. "Possible, yeah. Your mother gave me some money for you, an allowance if you will. I was just waiting for you to need it… and I guess you already know how you're gonna spend it."

She laughed, a soft, light sound that warmed both their hearts, then looked up to him. "Can I have the money tomorrow, please? I'd like to go around the bookshops with Gaara." Since it had worked so well last time, she used the Kitten Stare Technique once more. She didn't use any chakra, so she wasn't sure she could really call it a technique, but who would complain? Not Ensui, that was for sure: he was too busy drowning in her big red eyes and trying to resist her cute pout. It wasn't her fault if adults, especially her mentor and her uncle, were so sensitive to it. When he sighed so loud it looked like he was trying to blow away the whole desert, she knew she had won and hugged him, laughing again.