It was with an oppressive sort of malaise that Miho pulled herself out of bed. Her muscles ached and her head was throbbing. Gently as she could, she padded toward the bathroom, stopping momentarily to stare at the empty chair that was positioned by her bed. Blinking, she continued on her way, trudging through the bathroom door. After a few minutes, she raised her head to look into the mirror. Her black curls where an unholy mess, flattened into nonexistence on the right side of her head. It was her eyes though that made her pause, toothbrush in hand.

Not my eyes.

The reflex thought echoed away.

Yes, she thought. My eyes.

She could almost remember. Bits and pieces. The stars were there. Scattered remnants of another person, another her, from a world so-very-different. Or really, not all that different. A bunch of stories that weren't hers, but were. She could piece them together. She wasn't sure if she wanted to, but she could.

Miho could remember dying.

She'd been young— older, but young. Twenties, maybe.

A twist of metal and wind. One flip, two flips, three, four, five. Painful pirouettes before the crash down. A pipe impaled just under her right breast. The wind caught her car— a large moving metal contraption that she knew there, but not here. The wind sent it toppling, rolling until it rested upside down in a ditch. She could remember hanging there. Listening to the rush of rain and the radio playing—

I can still hear you saying…

The toothbrush clattered out of her hand into the sink.

You would never break the chain. Never break the chain.

The war was coming. An explosion on the horizon. Headquarters. So many people…And she'd watched it happen on a television. All of it, from distance. People she already knew here; people she didn't. Ones she hoped to never meet; ones that she needed to meet. She had to meet. Half arches, shattered plots. There was only so much she could remember of the story— and it was a story— but she remembered the explosion and the deaths. She remembered the deaths more than anything else.

"Miho?"

Tearing her attention from the mirror, she turned to find her mother in the doorway. Before she could say anything, her mother's arms were cradling her.

"Oh, sweetheart."

Miho fought her kneejerk instinct to pull away and instead buried her face into the crook of her mother's shoulder, desperately grasping to the silk of her shirt as it stretched across her back. "Mama…" It was all overwhelming and, despite not wanting to cry, a few tears escaped and soaked into the silk. "I'm sorry. I—"

"Do not apologize, sweetheart." Her mother pulled away, resting her soft hands on either side of Miho's face. Then those hands pushed the curls back and away from her cheeks. "You have nothing to apologize for. You gave us quite the scare though. Why—" Her mother seemed to steel herself and Miho followed suit, taking a deep stabilizing breath. "Why did that happen?"

The truth was not something she wanted to say. Saying it out loud made it real. Saying it out loud could lead to psych evaluations, which would put the Academy and subsequent promotion into jeopardy. The truth was dangerous. A lie then. But, while her mother wasn't a kunoichi, her father was. Not to mention that his two best friends were 1) the best strategist in the Land of Fire and 2) a literal mind-reader. So, lying to him wouldn't be smart.

Evasion.

"Can I just…not say?" Seeing the obvious flash of disappointment, Miho lowered her eyes to stare at her wringing hands. "Mama, I just…Please. I'm okay now. But I don't want…"

There was a moment of tense quiet before her mother's hands fell to Miho's shoulders. She grasped there before leaning down for another embrace. Miho held on for her life. "Alright. That's alright. But for me, confide in someone. It's okay to be scared. It's okay not to be okay." Though her mother was never one for empty platitudes, she pressed her curls down over and over again. "Everything will be alright."

'cause every little thing gonna be alright.

Miho tried not to jerk at the way her mind automatically supplied words, words in another language. Another song. It was only through sheer force of will that she steadied herself enough to justify a strong mask. She fixed it over her face like a wall and drew away. The grin she wore was not real, but no one would know the difference. Not unless they were inside her head. "I need to finish getting ready."

"You can stay home from Academy today, Miho. After last night…"

Some part of Miho— another section of her entirely— scoffed at the idea of letting a seven-year-old decide whether or not she was attending school. That same section was a slew of words that Miho grasped at random. Mental health day and student welfare were among those. A part of her was impressed. Miho ignored that kneejerk reaction, pushing it away to examine later.

"I want to go. I can't fall behind."

Her mother tilted her lips. "If you're sure…"

Miho nodded, turning back to the sink to grab her toothbrush from the bowl. "I'm sure. I'm okay now. I promise."

Not okay. Decidedly not okay.

Rather than argue, her mother rose up and nodded determinedly. "Then I'll make you a good breakfast and some fresh snacks for today, alright?"

A few moments later, Miho could smell the distinct aroma of bacon and, a little later still, baking pumpkin-spiced scones. Staying in her bathroom, Miho drew half her hair back and tied it off with a burgundy strip of cloth before getting fully dressed.

It was as she wrapped her elbows in bandages that Chōji appeared in the doorway, pausing only momentarily to heave in a breath before he charged at her. Miho barely had time to catch him, keeping him aloft as he seemed to go weak in the knees. Warmth flooded through her at her brother's weeping and she sank to the floor with him, patting his bush of wild brown hair.

"Chōji, brother, I'm okay. Really, I am."

"You just— You just looked— You looked so scared. I-I didn't know what to do. Nobody knew what to do! Then you passed our and Ino passed out and it was so scary!"

Pressing her lips together, Miho exhaled a breath she didn't even realize she'd been holding. So Ino passed out as well. The flutter of fear that filled her stomach made it feel as if bile were clawing up her throat. If Ino saw…If she knew…

"I'm okay, Chōji."

Not okay. Definitely not okay.

He wasn't crying when he pulled back a moment later. Instead, his eyes were dead serious in a way that he rarely ever showed. Miho fought back a smile. As sweet and kind as her brother was, Chōji was also a force to be reckoned with when he was serious. "What happened?"

Miho stared back at him, trying to think of something to say.

Because lying to Chōji just wasn't…

It wasn't something she could do.

Instead, "I promise I'll tell you. When I do, please believe me."

"It's…It's something big, isn't it?"

"Yeah. Yeah, it is."

He stared at her, considering her words for a long moment. Sighing, he nodded, looking to the floor. But he didn't let go of her hand and Miho waited, knowing her brother well enough to sense he had more to say. His grip tightened and he looked up again, determination in his dark eyes.

"Tell me when you want. I'll believe you. I will."

Something lifted off her chest and she surged forward, pulling her brother into the tightest embrace she'd ever given him. And he clung back, grabbing onto the shoulders of her vest, as far around as his arms could go. Squeezing her eyes shut, for a moment, she forgot all of it. All of it. Every single scattered piece.

"Thank you, Chōji."

It was a strange feeling, honestly, like two parts of her were warring with each other. Something had changed since the "Episode" which was a pun she didn't intend and hated. The further she got from it, the more she could tell. Things were not quite the same as they were before. The stories that were hers then rang louder in her head and the stories that weren't hers then rang even louder. She could feel a sense of foreboding welling in her stomach as they approached the Academy.

So many were there. So many from the story. Her hand delved into the potato chip bag blindly and she popped a bit into her mouth. She frowned, gagging at the flavor.

A bag appeared in front of her face as Chōji held it out for her to take. His other hand was extended to accept the pickle-flavored chips she held. Miho smiled widely, taking the proffered exchange. Chōji smiled in return. "I know you hate pickles. I love 'em!"

He made a dramatic show of eating the pickle-flavored monstrosities.

Miho smiled widely, throwing an arm over her brother's shoulder.

"Cute."

Shikamaru's bored tone belied the small smile on his face. He folded both hands behind his head. Studiously ignoring the once-over he gave her, Miho stuffed a handful of chips into her mouth. He seemed to be picking her apart, analyzing each rumple in her yukata and the bags under her eyes. Chōji cut him a pretty obvious cautionary glance, but said nothing.

"You okay?"

Miho pulled her arm from around Chōji, looking around him to Shikamaru's dull stare. "I'm good now that I've gotten some rest." After a moment, she reached in the bag and handed over a large, particularly crunchy-looking chip. "Thanks for asking."

He took the chip, popped it in his mouth, and smiled around it.

Once she settled in her desk, the performance seemed to end. Her shoulders rounded and she curved inward, all of the energy fleeing. Chōji sat in front of her with Shikamaru, munching as he watched others enter the class. Shikamaru was asleep already, head tucked against his arms. Her seat was in the back row, between a civilian boy—Kouji— and Uchiha Reiko, neither of which seemed to notice her deflation.

The room was different somehow.

Or maybe she saw it differently.

She'd seen it then. Flat, two-dimensional.

Only a few brief flashes, swallowed up by more prominent images.

Like the war.

The story.

"Miho."

Pulling in a deep breath, she turned in her chair. Ino stood with her arms crossed, brows drawn together and light blue eyes alight. A wince drew the girl's attention and Miho could have sworn she saw something like exasperation flicker across her face.

"I wanna know."

Uneasy at the attention Ino's interaction was bringing— because Ino had never, ever interacted with her directly before— Miho tried to deflate even more. If she could deflate enough, maybe she'd become invisible. Still Ino held her ground and even puffed herself up even more, trying to appear bigger.

Which was not physically possible.

Even as "no" started to form on her tongue, Miho bit it down.

Ino, in a sea of white. Eyes wide and fearful.

She'd seen something.

When Miho looked up at Ino's narrowed eyes again, she recognized the barely-visible fear.

It's there, but Ino is the daughter of a major clan. She won't show more in public.

She saw something.

"N-Not here."

Ino was a force of nature and very used to getting her way. Yet, somewhere in the constellations and echoes in Miho's head, there was respect. Ino, for all of her gossip-mongering and her domineering attitude, was smart and resourceful and good. Fundamentally, Yamanaka Ino was a good person.

So, with slightly more confidence, Miho sighed. "Later. Please."

Just as Ino opened her mouth to answer, a whisper— just loud enough to be heard— broke through the din of the classroom. Miho heard it clear as day. Everyone at the back of the classroom did as well. It wasn't like the offender was trying to be quiet.

"What's Pretty Ino doin' talkin' to that fatty?"

Ino stiffened, scarily sharp eyes landing on the guilty party.

Miho looked the same direction. A few guys stood at the row next to the windows, eyes trained on her. Uchiha Sasuke sat on the row below them, looking back with a scowl. The girls who usually fretted around him were also watching. And with all of this attention, the obvious leader of the little group preened. Bait, then. They wanted a reaction. This was nothing new.

Utatane Tetsuya was the ringleader and, every so often, he made a gambit for attention. His targets shifted every so often and his little posse hung on every ill word. Apparently, he saw an opportunity in Miho.

They were a brave bunch of idiots.

Especially since she was maybe twice their size.

Utterly bored with their immaturity, Miho reached for her sleeve and held up the sewn-on symbol. Her eyes locked with Tetsuya's onyx stare, which were alight with mirth. Oh, so clever. "See this? We literally put 'food' on our clothes. A little reading comprehension and critical thought would really help here." She heard her brother's choked cough somewhere in the rush of blood filling her ears. "But nevermind, your taijutsu shows you're not really one for analysis."

"Whatever, you gigantic tub of lard!"

Miho hadn't even thought of a response to that winner when Ino charged up to them, all short seven-year-old gold-haired fury. Completely agog, the larger girl just looked on in mouth-agape wonder.

"What was that, Tetsuya? It sounds like you were making fun of Miho's weight?"

Tetsuya scoffed, rolling his eyes. "So what?"

"So," Ino simpered. By now, they had the attention of the entire class. When Ino simpered like that, it was usually a warning sign. Whenever she did that, she was usually about to land a killing blow— through word or action. "Feeling inadequate? Is your grandma being too hard on you? Do you really want to start a fight you know you're going to lose?"

"Psh! As if I would lose to—"

"Ino, don't."

Pulling her punch at the last second, the class watched as Ino smiled at Tetsuya sweet as sugar. Her fist loosened into a pat, which she landed on Tetsuya's cheek three times with mock sincerity. Miho had to withhold a laugh at the boy's face. Two killing blows then.

"You're lucky my friend Miho is so nice."

With that very clear line drawn, Ino dropped her hand and walked back in Miho's direction.

The class fell back into their separate conversations, but the attention of Chōji, Shikamaru, and the others at the back of the class remained on Ino. And Miho was really torn between wishing the girl would go back to her seat and being absolutely stunned.

"Later. You promised."

"Later." Miho agreed.

This time, she really meant it.

She hid it under the guise of a play date, which was just the right amount of manipulation to get past the guards and the Clan Matriarch, who beamed at her arrival to the main house. Ino put on all the bells and whistles of innocence: large guileless eyes, wheedling voice, and wide smile. The picture that everyone wanted to see or expected to see. After all, the Akimichi really wanted good relations with the Yamanaka heir.

Yamanaka Ino thought Akimichi Miho might close the door in her face when she arrived at the Akimichi Estate at half-past four. The other girl was deadpan, save for the slightest hint of grudging respect in her dark eyes. It was that grudging respect that told her she'd won.

And winning was something that Ino really liked to do.

"Let's go to the garden." The unspoken we can talk there was enough to get Ino to follow the gigantic girl outside to the ens. "C'mon."

She watched the Akimichi with a critical eye, just like her father was instructing. Nonverbal cues, visual interpretation. Her movements were stiff, like someone who had sore muscles. Her steps were awkward and a bit large. Either intense leg strain or, if Ino's theory was right, something else entirely. Miho's head was held high. She was actually confident. It wasn't some kind of mask at school or bravado.

Way overweight and big, almost twice Ino's size.

Miho's size was intimidating to a lot of Ino's friends, but Ino knew better.

Akimichi Miho never started fights. But she did finish them.

Besides, Morimoto Yumi deserved that punch.

And Tetsuya would deserve whatever came to him.

Miho's heavy footfalls stopped when she reached the back corner of the en.

The Akimichi valued closeness to nature in a similar, but different way than the Yamanaka. Her father always said that the Akimichi were the earth— rocks and boulders and dirt. The Yamanaka were plants— flowers and herbs. And the Nara were animals— deer and birds and balance. When Ino saw the rock garden, with lines raked into the sand and big moss-covered boulders, she saw what her father had been saying.

Miho slowly sat down, feet hooking over the ledge of the porch.

Ino sat down next to her a few feet away, turning to prop one knee up. Ino wasn't much one for long silences or beating around the bush. "So?"

"I don't know how to start."

Nightmares.

That's what Ino saw.

Nightmares that she knew were real.

Her— older and prettier and dirtier—on a battlefield. Nara Shikamaru— thin and half-lidded and barely alive— on a battlefield. And Akimichi Chōji— large and terrified and determined— on a battlefield. Her team. She knew that was her team. Other students at the Academy. People she recognized, older and hardened and scarred. Explosions and tears and so, so many people. So, so many dead people.

And unrecognizable things.

Unrecognizable faces and places, and Ino saw it for what it was.

Because Ino was smart. She knew she was smart.

And she knew that it was better to rip the band-aid off rather than let the wound fester.

"You've been reincarnated."

Miho started, head jerking around to face her. The girl's dark eyes were wide and alight with fear. She was obviously afraid of what Ino would say, how she would say it, and who she would say it to. Despite what a lot of people seemed to think, Ino wasn't mean. She didn't like being mean. No, she liked to fix. Sometimes that fixing got interpreted as being mean, which was just stupid. Ino, first and foremost, considered herself a "fixer."

"I'm not an idiot. I'm not going to tell anybody." She flipped the bangs out of her eyes. The distrust wasn't obvious, but it was there. "Something like that could cause a lot of problems."

"It could."

Ino huffed, losing her patience. "Trust me."

The expression on the Akimichi's face was clearly one of distrust, but then the ever-familiar tilt of resignation got the better of her instincts. Internally, Ino ticked another ledger in people she'd turned from 'no' to 'yes.' Somehow though, this victory felt a bit heavier. This wasn't a switch that had no actual consequences. Ino could actually feel the weight of it. Because this was more.

"Reincarnation," she prompted.

"Yeah. I guess so. I…only remember so much." Miho's head shook, the mass of curls bouncing. She grimaced. "Last night was…a lot."

"And Konoha has some trees."

The other girl snorted, seeming to relax a bit as she leaned back onto her hands. "I remember some of my last life. Bits and pieces. How did you—Did…Did you see?"

"You were freaking out. I tapped in." Ino actually tapped her temple, smiling just a bit. "Dad scolded me for a whole hour. But then he said I was a prodigy for doing that. Because not everybody can." Miho stared at her, waiting for the point. "When I jumped in your head to calm you down, I saw you die."

"Yeah." Her classmate drew in a big breath and held it. Then, with an explosive sigh she let it go. Ino kept quiet, watching. "There was a song playing. Did you hear it?"

"I heard it. I didn't know the language."

"It was playing when I was driving and then the wind knocked— I don't know what the word would be here. Like, a 'motorized cart'? I don't know. But a pipe." The gesture she made toward her side brought back the gruesome memory. Ino nodded, still quiet and still listening. She'd seen it. It was a quick image from the perspective of the person impaled, but she saw it.

A memory.

"I've had that for years. Since I was five and a storm came through. I guess I woke up. I'm still me, but I remember her. Parts of her. Pieces."

She let that settle in the air like a blanket. That blanket quietened her voice. Ino could see how tired the other girl was. How long had she known about this other life? How much was she keeping to herself? She'd known for years. It had to be a lot to shoulder alone. The fixer in Ino was grappling.

"Then there's what happened last night."

"What were those battles? Was that me? I know it was me, but was it really me? And what was happening? Do you even know what was happening?"

Snapping her mouth shut, Ino cursed herself.

"Sorry, I just—"

"Please don't apologize. I understand. I've been asking myself the same questions, but I already know the answers." Miho smiled, but it was a sad thing. The Akimichi looked back out at the rocks and the raked sand, trailing her attention over the details until her eyes settled on the clan symbol etched into one of the rocks. "I don't know how much I can say, Ino. And I'm sorry. All of this is…You were just trying to help."

"Well, yeah." Ino nodded magnanimously. "Tell me." Then, knowing that it would take nothing else to get Miho to agree, she held out her hand with the pinky extended. "I swear I won't ever say anything to anyone unless you want me to. But I saw what I saw. And I want to help you. Because that looked terrifying. And if I was scared, then I am sure you are too."

The Akimichi hesitated as if weighing her options. Ino really didn't see how many options there were. Tell her or don't tell her. After a few moments, Miho raised her hand and linked her pinky. The swear was sealed. Ino was bound by it, and she wouldn't break it.

Miho sighed. "I'll tell you what I've figured out so far." She pulled her hand away and seemed to measure her words. "There, our world is a story. Like, a novel or a comic book or a film. If something changes, then the story won't happen the way it should or did. I—" Looking much older than her years, Miho turned. "Ino, this is…This is the future. I think."

"The future?"

It's a moment before Ino gets it. When she gets it, she's on her feet and pointing down at the trodden Akimichi who just runs a weary hand over her face.

"You said this world is a story. It's a cartoon. That was part of the show."

"More or less, I think."

She can tell that it is more rather than less.

"There's…gonna be a war?"

Miho grimaced, obviously tossing around the idea of lying. The tells were so obvious that Ino had to roll her eyes. A cast away glance down and to the right. The slightest tremor in her right hand. Lying to a Yamanaka, really? Ino let out a derisive scoff.

"Stop thinking of ways to lie. I just swore. I keep my word." With a sudden burst of determination, she reached out and grabbed the other girl's meaty hand. "I'm not an idiot. That's the future. And it's a war. Do you know what happened?" Miho hesitated. "I saw it, Miho. And you can't convince me I didn't. So, you're either gonna tell me or you're gonna tell me, but I'm not letting this go."

"You sure are stubborn."

It's said like an acquiesce and Ino lets go, sniffing and raising her chin.

"I've been called worse."

Something broke in Miho's eyes and, while young, Ino knows this is going to change her life.

"You're not going to like what you see."

Ino's felt her eyes widen at the implication.

"What you're gonna see, it's gonna haunt you. It haunts me. It's only been a day, but it's there. Constantly."

"What is?"

"What's coming."

"Go away, you freak!"

Miho's attention perked up at the loudness of that screech. Rolling her upper body around to the corner of the building, she watched the lunchtime exchange. She was at her usual lunchtime spot in the shadows of the school, giving Chōji his time with his friends. The ones who she usually sat with had finished eating already, only having to eat half what she did.

Everything was "as usual" except for two things:

Yamanaka Ino was sitting a couple feet away, munching on her onigiri. Unlike the others Miho normally sat with, Ino paced herself through her lunch to time it just right with Miho's eating. A small gesture, but one that Miho noticed the third time Ino had planted herself at her left side with a look that communicated a very clear dare.

Maybe, just maybe, Miho's grudging respect grew a bit to actual admiration. As foolhardy and straightforward as Ino was, the girl was also dead-set on making changes. One of those changes seemed to be her friend group and outward attitude.

It probably shouldn't have surprised her to much when Ino declared that they were friends.

"After all," Ino added. "I know you better than anyone."

After Ino's mind walk, she was right. It was a rudimentary mind walk, one that her own clan would have fits over if they found out, but it was enough.

"We don't have time to waste."

"We're seven."

"Then we have— what?— ten years?"

Once Yamanaka Ino decided something, there was no convincing her otherwise. Miho just shrugged, giving a tired smile around her burger.

The shouted insults that broke through the normal calm of lunchtime brought attention to the second disturbance in "normal."

I sense a disturbance in the Force.

Miho jerked at the echoed voice in her head. It'd been happening with often-enough frequency that Ino had developed a name for it. "Echoes" is what she called them. Miho had just stared at her, not quite willing to give the intrusions a pithy title.

"You're such a loser!"

Naruto.

He was standing only a few feet away from the boys who had insulted her a few days before. In his too-big hand-me-down, the little Uzumaki looked even smaller and more fragile. His expression was heart-rending. Miho felt sick at the way he seemed to shake in front of them. He wasn't quite what she remembered.

The Uzumaki Naruto she remembered from there was brash and loud and—

"Ridiculous," Ino muttered. "This is ridiculous. Utatane is really pissing me off."

Ino didn't know about Uzumaki Naruto, aside from what glimpses there were of him in her memories. There was enough, but not enough. The bare minimum to know he would become a war hero and a powerful figure. Enough to now he was a main character. Not enough to know everything.

Miho, as much as she trusted Ino (and she really, really did at this point), couldn't bring herself to put her friend in danger with all of what she knew.

To show her or tell her some things would be to condemn her.

The memories that kept flooding in: the plot points, climaxes, plot twists, character deaths. The foreshadowing. The surprising re-emergences and redemptions.

Blindly, Miho reached out and smacked Ino's arm with a low 'shush.'

One of the boys stood and tossed something at him. When he didn't move to defend himself, Miho felt her vision begin to tunnel.

She couldn't seem to draw a breath.

Not again. Please, not again.

Images flashed in her mind—images from her nightmares.

Blond hair, red eyes. Blue eyes. Red eyes. Black flames.

A loud roar and a crimson moon.

An explosion.

Miho was on her hands and knees, fighting to gulp air. Her entire body felt as if it were on fire, aching and burning. Ino was beside her in an instant, whispering urgent reassurances. By now, she recognized the signs.

Struggling to her feet, Miho tripped slightly in her haste to get to him. Her knee skinned the ground, but no blood came from the ripped skin. She had developed calluses long ago. Now that she could speak honestly with someone, Ino had pointed out something Miho should've long-since noticed. She fell so often because her mind had moments where it remembered a much larger body.

"You'll get used to it again," she said.

She had no idea why she felt driven to defend him. She never had before. She'd just let it roll by. She just let it roll by and that made her sick. She just knew that she had to do something. Now. She should have done something before she knew what role Naruto would play, who he would be, what he was dealing with.

Miho was ashamed. And that made her move faster.

"Stop it."

In her peripheral vision, she could see Chōji standing. Shikamaru right behind him. The Inuzuka kid was still sitting on the ground.

Her attention focused on Tetsuya and his posse. Unconsciously, she adjusted her stance. Lee's voice said it helped with balance. She wished Lee was out with her. She'd feel better about all of this.

"Stop."

She grabbed her potato chip bag from her vest and stuffed one into her mouth. It was a calming sensation. The salt distracted her from the hornet's nest she just kicked.

Miho glanced over to where Naruto stood.

He looked absolutely dumbfounded.

(Like the expression Chōji wore when she knocked Yumi out last year.)

"You really need to knock it off." She said through the remnants of potato in her mouth. Her chin rose and she looked over to where the blond kid stood. She was a whole head taller than him. Shifting herself until she stood in front of him, her focus fell on Tetsuya once more. "We're all gonna be comrades, right? Why pick on people that might be—"

Instinct alone made Miho grabbed the back of Tetsuya's head and jerked it downward as his punch glanced off her shoulder. He landed in a heap on her right side, face in the dirt.

"WHAT IS GOING ON HERE?"

Letting out a breath, Miho stepped back to let Teacher Iruka by.

"I— I was— She pushed me!"

"Like hell she did!" Ino screeched, skidding up to her side. "You jerk!"

Miho shook her head.

"Don't curse, Ino." Their teacher admonished lightly, but there was no real bite to it. His attention fell to Tetsuya. "You need to work on your speed if you want to land a hit on Miho." Teacher Iruka noted with a sardonic tone as he hauled the kid up. Miho felt her ears warm. "And you won't be landing any hits outside of taijutsu spars. Detention. Today." Iruka dragged Tetsuya away by an ear while his posse followed along under their teacher's withering glare.

A little off-kilter, Miho turned and looked down at the still-stunned blond. Ignoring the sensation of memories, images, and stories mapping onto him, she did the first thing she could think of. She held out a hand. "Hi. I'm Akimichi Miho. You know my brother."

"You're meant to shake it," Ino added with a sarcastic tone.

Instead of stunned, he'd transitioned into outright flabbergasted. His mouth opened and closed as he stared at her hand. Seeing that he wasn't going to take it, she raised it up to rake through her curls and forced an uncomfortable laugh, looking surreptitiously toward her brother and Shikamaru for help. Shikamaru, of course, was no help.

Chōji smiled, waved, and ate a chip. His brows rose.

That was a good idea.

Her brother was a sweetheart genius.

"Wanna eat with me? With us?"

Jerking a thumb over her shoulder toward her half-eaten lunch, Miho grinned. Ino shot her a look, but said nothing. Miho knew Chōji had been feeding the Uzumaki for months already. This was something she could do. Something that might…make a difference.

"I've got lots of food. I got to. And Mama's the best cook in town."

She offered him her food.

Food was the lifeblood of the Akimichi.

When he didn't respond, she felt concern grip her. It was like he didn't know what to say to that kind of question. Miho realized, through the roaring currents of still images in her mind and witnessed aggression throughout the years, Naruto honestly didn't know what to do with kindness.

None-too-subtle, he jerked his head around to Chōji, Shikamaru, and Kiba.

He was looking to them— to make sure she could be trusted.

"Well, freakin' answer her already. If you don't eat it, I will. An hell, don't leave it to the Yamanaka! She wouldn't want it to affect her girly figure!" Kiba grinned with a wave of his hand. Ino's red-hot rage was crackling in the air and Miho sighed. Kiba acted like he didn't notice. "Chōji's mom always has good food!"

Miho smiled slightly, but decided to give Naruto an out if he wanted. "If you don't want it, that's seriously—"

"Y-Yeah! Hell yeah, I do!" The blond shouted, pumping his fist. "That'd be awesome! I'm Uzumaki Naruto and I definitely want to eat your food!"

"Cool!" Miho nodded.

"Just you wait, dog breath." Ino threatened. "You'll see what this girly figure can do. Then, you'll get your life together."

Ino turned on her heel and marched toward the shade where their lunches sat. Naruto hesitated and Miho sent him a long-suffering grin. "C'mon. She's not the patient sort and now she's riled."

"Just…" Miho stopped at Kiba's loud voice, looking back. "Just bring it all over here."

Over there?

But she wanted Chōji to have—

"Troublesome." She didn't miss Shikamaru's half-smile or the way he actually shifted over in the shade of the tree. The movement wasn't necessary, but it was pointed. And it was about as effusive of a gesture that he could possibly make. Miho was thrown a bit off-kilter by it. "Hurry up already." Chōji absently patted his friend's shoulder, beaming.

"I'll help!"

A grin pulled at her lips.

It'd been three weeks. Three weeks since Ino had become her only ally, her friend. Every so often, Miho regretted letting Ino in as she did. Ino would never live without the threat of war now. She'd never live without the foreknowledge. Miho wondered if she should have just lied, said it was all made-up nightmares. But the selfish part of her…wanted someone else to know. The selfish part of her was glad Ino knew, saw it with her own 'eyes.'

Three weeks since everything started cascading.

More and more images, knowledges, and stories.

She recalled more and more, things that she would never tell Ino unless she had to.

The Kyuubi Attack. Naruto's parents. Obito and his sharingan. The kids from Amegakure. The death of the Third Hokage. The attack on Konoha. Gaara of the Sand and the eventual Kazekage. These things were flashes, plot points. There was so much more she knew was there. Things that she didn't want to remember, but things that she needed to remember.

Each a domino in a hundred dominoes, tipping from one thing to the next.

She could visualize it.

And the end result was always the same— an explosion.

Miho was jerked awake by the alarm and her heart stuttered into her throat. Hurriedly, she threw her legs over the side of her bed, stumbling for her door. When she threw it open, Chōji did the same across the hall. Their father appeared at the end of the hallway a scant second later, eyes sharp and brows drawn. Fear lurches through her as she hurried to Chōji's side.

"Ayumi, lockdown. I'll seal it up."

Her eyes connected with her father's for a single moment before he thundered down hall and around the corner. Miho's entire body ached and she reached for Chōji's hand. Her mother appeared then, pulling her robe over her chest as she moved. Determination and barely-wrangled fear was heavy in every step.

"Both of you, come with me."

She moved in front of her brother, who fell into step behind her, and she kept a firm grip on his hand. If her father was sealing the estate, then that meant something utterly terrifying had happened. The wailing siren stopped.

Her mother went still for a moment as the beeps signaled.

Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep.

Level Five.

Level Five was the worst-case scenario short of an evacuation. It was a shelter-in-place warning. When they arrived to the warded archive room at the back of the house, two of her cousins were already there waiting. Chihiro and Maruten nodded respectfully toward her mother, ushering them inside.

"Any idea what's happening?"

"Not a clue," Chihiro confessed with a tense expression. "It's jonin and up."

High security clearance. Miho looked over to her brother, who was watching with wide eyes. Swallowing down her anxiety, Miho moved to him again, taking his hands. "It's alright." He probably didn't notice how she positioned herself in the room, but one glance at her cousin told her that the action didn't go unnoted.

Chihiro nodded, returning her focus to outside the warded room.

It was hours before the all-clear was sounded. By then, the sun had already begun to rise. The faint singing of birds could be heard through the stillness of the Akimichi estate.

Their mother sighed, rubbing her face and eyes with barely concealed weariness. After a long moment, she pushed herself up from the archive table. Chihiro and Maruten appeared in the doorway, removing the seals that secured the panic room.

Miho caught sight of Maruten's ashen face. Usually, his jowls and cheeks were a bright red and permanently blushed below his purple clan markings. That blush was gone. He gestured for their mother to approach, a look telling Miho and Chōji to stay where they were.

A few whispered words and Miho watched as the strength seemed to go out of her mother's legs. Miho'd only just started forward when her mother caught herself on the doorway.

Her mother's shoulders were shaking. There were tears in Maruten's eyes. Terrified at the possibilities, Miho looked to Chihiro.

The woman stepped past the Akimichi matriarch and smiled sadly. "Your father's okay. It's not that."

Relieved, Miho fell onto the bench beside Chōji, who was sniffling. With his big heart, she wasn't sure if he was crying because their family was crying or out of relief to hear their Papa was safe. Chihiro lowered herself to kneel beside Chōji, speaking quiet reassurances to him while rubbing his back.

"Do they know…who did it?"

Miho's attention snapped back to the doorway.

Maruten pulled in a large breath, making his large chest seem even larger. When he exhaled, every single bit of his strength seemed to leave him. The tears were no longer restrained and they fell down over his cheeks. Miho edged toward the door bit by bit. "Doesn't make any sense. I…I knew him. I-I've known him since we— This doesn't…" His head lowered and he stared at nothing. "Itachi wouldn't do this."

Itachi.

Uchiha Itachi.

The bile is in Miho's throat before she can stop it. Gagging, she stumbled over to the corner of the archive, between age-old bookcases. She had just enough presence of mind to aim for a clearing in the floor. There's a hand at her back in an instant and Chōji's frightened yelp in the background. Miho could hear every sound, every shift of feet on the ground.

A cold sweat broke over her.

It was the police force first, wasn't it?

Parents kneeling, waiting for death.

When her mother later asked why she got sick, Miho lied.

"The nerves," she said. "I w-was w-w-worried about Papa."

An entire clan…gone.

She'd seen it. On a sunny afternoon two weeks before, when a military police officer stopped to speak with her father while she and Chōji munched on takoyaki, she saw the fan on his shoulder. She'd seen flashes of red, two bodies on the floor in pools of blood, and the scream of a child. Crows. Chōji had asked her if she was choking.

She'd shoved the images aside, told him she was fine. Everything was fine.

Everything was fine.

But she'd seen it.

And she did nothing.