She was small and afraid, and they didn't bother treating her with any kindness. She was just a thing, a useful tool in their ploy. Their hands bruised her body, their nails nicked her skin. She didn't cry, only because an instinct buried deep inside told her that it would mean her death. She shouldn't know about death, not so young, but she did. The presence whispering in her thoughts was to thank or blame for it.
"You sure they'll come?"
The voice was rough, with an accent that many people had around here. Mizumi twitched, trying and failing to keep her limbs away from the biting cold. Overwhelming exhaustion made her senses blurry and her thoughts sluggish. She wasn't alone, of that she was certain: the presence was still there, full of warm chakra and focused on her.
"Of course they'll fucking come. You saw how they were dotting on the brat. We left a trail obvious enough for a civilian. They'll come."
They waited for what felt like hours. The men – they were eight in total – didn't as much as look at her after propping her against a rough piece of wood. Hunger and thirst clawed at Mizumi's belly and throat, but she didn't cry. The presence was working hard at masking the discomforts with chakra, all the while whispering sweet nonsense in her ears to keep her calm. He had always been part of her, and she trusted him with everything she was.
"There they are." The man who had spoken grabbed Mizumi and pressed something cold against her throat.
"Don't move," the presence warned, his voice pressing and tense with worry.
She answered with a wordless question, the image floating in her mind for just a moment.
"It's a blade. It's dangerous, it can kill. Don't move."
She went limp in the arms of her abductor, obeying the presence's orders. She didn't want to die. Something cold and impetuous was building up under her skin, rushing in what the presence had called her 'meridians'. She didn't understand what those were quite yet, but he had said she would, soon enough.
"Don't come any closer," the man holding her ordered when Asami and other Uzumaki clan members appeared. Ibiki was amongst them, fresh cuts on his face. He was still bleeding from them and a blow to the head. Worry went to feed the cold strength in her meridians. Daddy was hurt. Daddy was hurt. A quiet sob escaped her quivering lips; his eyes, dark and sharp, stared into hers.
"What do you want?" Asami asked. She was her favourite Uzumaki, the one who always had amazing stories to tell and used chakra to illustrate them. Storytime was always incredible when she was the one to do it. But there was nothing left of the storyteller in her now, in the hard set of her jaw and strong, steel-sharp edge to her usually gentle violet eyes.
"It's simple, really," the man holding Mizumi said. "You die, we let the brat go. You have profited enough from Kiri's gifts, you ungrateful clan members! Your Kekkei Genkai is rotting this village to the core. We've had enough!"
Whispers ran through the Uzumaki, too low for Mizumi to hear. "They'll do it," the presence said in her mind. "They're too loyal to their kin for their own good."
It was already happening. No negotiation, no bargaining – because the man holding Mizumi had just inched the blade on her throat close enough for steel to bite her skin and a warm liquid to run down her neck. It hurt, it hurt so much that she wanted to scream and cry, but she stayed silent, without a tear shed from her eyes. The cold rush of power was still building inside her, almost strong enough to break her. She watched the Uzumaki whisper amongst themselves and Ibiki, already lost in the crowd, disappear.
"They'll do it, and now they know Ibiki will be there to take care of you after they're gone."
But she didn't want them to do it. She didn't want them to die, for her or for anything. Death was so absolute, so permanent. Even a baby like her could understand that much. If they died, Asami would never tell her a story again. As the woman unsheathed a kunai and took it to her own throat, the cold snapped inside Mizumi, raging and demanding.
Her whole field of vision turned blinding white. Something snapped just above her navel, and the cold came out. The song of unending blizzard filled her ears, snow and ice nipping at her fingers and toes. A rush of chakra, supplied by the presence in her mind, drove the instinct to its target. Suddenly so exhausted that she couldn't even breathe, she collapsed.
"Mizumi, time to wake up."
A tiny whimper rose in the air. After a moment, struggling to open her eyes, she realised she was the one making the sound, but she couldn't bring herself to stop.
"Mizumi! Mizumi, are you alright?"
Oh, but how she knew and loved that voice. She managed to open her eyes and reached for Ibiki, but his bloodstained face was too far away.
"Mizumi, what did you do?"
She looked around and flinched. The entire world around them was snow and ice, the cold even stronger than it had been before. Her chakra surged, and the things the presence had called 'meridians' ached in answer. The men who had taken her, who had been so rough with her, were suspended in the air, ice picks running through their chests and limbs.
"Don't look, kitten. Look at me."
She tore her eyes away from the dead bodies – she knew they were dead, the chill coming from the presence inside her was clear enough. Had she done this?
"Yes, you have. You have used a Kekkei Genkai to protect your life and the life of your loved ones. Do not be ashamed."
No, she wasn't ashamed. She wasn't ashamed.
"D-Daddy," she called, her voice shaking. It had been her first word, and her favourite. He had blushed the first time she had said it, a rare occurrence, and then had showered her with amazed love for days. "Daddy, am okay, am okay." She wanted to say more, to make the worry in his eyes go away, but she didn't know how.
"It'll get better soon, don't worry," the presence said. "And stop calling me that. I have a name, you know? Call me Tobirama."
Tobirama. She committed the name to memory, then focused back on Ibiki, whose wide, callused hand brushed against her cheek. She leaned into the touch and closed her eyes. Her body relaxed. She let out a heavy, happy sigh, and closed her eyes once more.
"No, kitten, don't fall asleep just yet. I need to make sure you're okay."
A pout on her lips, she opened her eyes again. They widened when she saw that Ibiki's palm had lit up with minty-green chakra. He let his palm hover over her body from head to toe and the chakra tingled, leaving her with the clean and fresh impression of breathing in mint. She had never seen or breathed in mint, but Tobirama supplied the image and scent for her, and it was exactly what it felt like to have this chakra touching her skin.
"Is she okay?" a feminine voice asked. Mizumi turned her head towards it and lit up when she saw Asami, looking frazzled but otherwise alright. The other Uzumaki were gathered behind her. It wasn't the first time she was being put in a leader's role by the rest of her clan in Kirigakure, although she didn't seem to enjoy it. Tobirama often remarked, in Mizumi's mind, that she was doing the right thing, not the easy thing.
She wanted to be like Asami when she grew up.
"She has a few bruises and scratches, nothing I can't heal. Did you see what she…"
"Yeah. She was staring at me. Her eyes turned ice-blue – it was very subtle but I noticed – and then, the ice… Ibiki-san, do you know who her real father was?"
They did this sometimes, mention a real father, a real mother. But Ibiki was her father, wasn't he? Tobirama hummed in agreement.
"No idea but, now that we saw this… Isn't there a clan in Kirigakure that has a similar Kekkei Genkai?"
"The Yuki clan. They're almost extinct, and the main target of the extremists now that the Terumī clan has disappeared. They were one of the strongest clans here and led a lot of battles during the last war." She let out a long sigh and took Mizumi from Ibiki's arms. "She isn't safe here anymore, Ibiki-san. When people find the bodies, they'll look for a Yuki clansman. If she ever does something like this again and a Kirijin sees her, they'll kill her immediately. They won't care that she's just a baby. They have no mercy."
"I-I know." Ibiki's voice was rough all of a sudden, as if he had swallowed tea leaves. Mizumi peeked at him as he searched Asami's face for something she didn't understand, then reached out and brushed his fingers against her cheek. They weren't ones for tender gestures, be it in private or public. That they allowed for it today betrayed how upset they were over the situation – and Ibiki was still bleeding a bit. "I'll take her away somewhere safe. It's been long enough, I can send a message to say I'm tracking rebels to offer them Konoha's aid and have had to leave the village. But will you manage when I'm gone?"
"We managed before you came, Ibiki-san," Asami answered with a sweet smile. "It seems dire to you because your village finally knows peace, but for us, this is just another kind of normal. Don't worry about the Uzumaki, worry about your little girl."
"Our little girl now."
"Yes. Ours. Protect her with your life, and don't let yourself get jumped this time."
The shadow of a smile appeared on his thin lips. "I promise. Be safe, Asami-san. I…"
"Don't say it. It's easier that way."
A shadow passed in Ibiki's eyes and he backed down, taking Mizumi from Asami's arms again to secure her against his chest. "Yes. You're right."
They stood together for a moment, apart from the rest of the Uzumaki clan, united in a silence too heavy for Mizumi to understand what it meant, then Ibiki turned around and walked away, his large hand cupping her head against his chest so she couldn't see what she had done. She started to cry, big sobs in her throat and fat tears on her cheeks, her tiny fists grabbing at her father's clothes.
"It's okay, kitten. Everything will be okay."
She wanted to trust him. She wanted it so much. Yet there was ice and stone in her stomach, a knot of bone-deep dread and existential anxiety. She was young, yes, but she understood the absolute nature of death. She had taken lives and, although she wasn't ashamed of it, something still bothered her about it.
"It shouldn't have been you," Tobirama whispered in her ear. "You're so young, so innocent. Killing tears through the mind. That's what you're feeling now."
Through images, she asked him if she would ever get better at it. The future was still a concept that she struggled to grasp; she just understood enough of it to be aware that her future probably laid in her father's footsteps, if that's what she wanted – and it was. Ibiki and Asami were both shinobi. They also were amazing, brave people, who fought for justice, powered by loyalty and rigorous training. The shedding of blood was a heavy price that Mizumi accepted to pay for that ideal.
"Don't commit to it yet," Tobirama said. "Wait until you're a little older and make sure you really want it. It's… It's never too late to change your mind, okay?"
Mizumi frowned. Until now, Tobirama had always spent so much time telling her about shinobi's grandeur and all their exploits. His tales of war and justice had been as glorious as they'd been grim. Why was he not encouraging her?
He sighed heavily in her mind. She felt his energy coil and then relax before he spoke. "I want you to become a kunoichi, I do. You'd be safer if you learned to fight. But today was terrifying, Mizumi. I don't want you in harm's way."
She answered with the memory of her capture, of how hurt and powerless she had felt, and Tobirama flinched.
"I know that being a civilian wouldn't protect you, damn it!" he snapped. "But there's a difference between being in the same level of danger as anyone and seeking danger. Shinobi and kunoichi fall into the second category, no matter what."
It was Mizumi's turn to flinch. Her sadness turned into a knife that dug deep into her chest. Tobirama had never been anything but gentle with her. Ibiki, taken aback, tried his best to comfort her. Alas, there was nothing he could do about the sudden silence in her head.