Shikamaru flew out of his chair, kunai held at the ready. He stumbled back and the wood bench scattered across the stone floor. The noise jolted him. Frantic, his narrowed eyes looked for a threat that wasn't there— in the corners, at the windows, in the room. His chest heaved. Then, recognition flooded his face. With a shake, he lowered the kunai to his side. Miho could still see how white his knuckles were on the hilt.
Chōji's eyes opened, tears welling in them immediately as one arm rose to lay over his eyes. Miho felt her stomach clench as he sobbed. His entire body was quivering. She felt so sick. So, so sick. It felt like something terrible was writhing and rolling in her gut.
It was difficult to fight away the urge to cry, seeing them both so shaken.
She caused this. This was her fault.
Ino fell back into the chair Miho had placed behind her, sucking in big breaths of air through her nose. Her hand rose to press against her forehead while her entire body sagged. She'd severely taxed her chakra, Miho knew. This was so dangerous.
She never should have asked. This was her fault.
"It's— It's done."
"Mi— Miho…"
"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."
It'd been this way since they were babies.
If Miho cried, Chōji cried. If Chōji cried, Miho cried.
It seemed she still couldn't shake that weakness. She couldn't see through her tears and she fought not to sob like she did when she was a little girl. Her good hand rose to wipe her cheeks. Over and over and over. She didn't have a right to them. She didn't just see what they saw. She'd seen the same things for years. She knew what to expect. She knew the horrors.
Now, she knew horrors like the lines in her palm, foretelling a future nightmare.
It shouldn't bother her anymore. She needed to be stronger than this.
"Miho, I— That was…That was impossible."
"Obviously, it's not." Ino responded to Shikamaru, pulling a bit at her short hair. She pushed out of the chair and came to Miho's side. She knew Ino hated tears. More often, Ino hated tears that she couldn't do anything about. "C'mon. It's okay. They're shaken up, but they're fine."
"We're not fine." Shikamaru retorted, drawing in a large breath before expelling it so heavily that he seemed to physical deflate. He settled a hand on Chōji's shivering shoulder. "Definitely not fine."
Miho took the sleeve that Ino gave her, trying to calm her panic. This was close to what she expected, wasn't it? After all, Shikamaru had just witnessed the death of his father and Chōji had just seen the horrors of war. He'd just seen their father flat on his back, still as death. He'd seen thousands massacred and flashes of light on the horizon. As a thirteen-year-old. Miho pressed her lips together and closed her eyes, focusing on her breathing.
Selfish. It was selfish to drag them into this. How could she be so selfish?
In through the nose, out through the mouth.
Keep up your training.
Do your best when it all goes south.
It was a meditation technique that Elder Torifu taught her when her nightmares made it impossible to focus on training. The same words, over and over and over. Strike, block, spin. Spin, block, block. Strike, strike, spin. Again.
"Naruto's—"
"A hero." Ino finished for him, not allowing him to finish what could have been a negative thought. She puffed herself up to look bigger than her wiry frame allowed. Miho always thought it was funny when she did that like an angry rooster hellbent on proving it could win. "He's a hero."
Shikamaru leveled her a dull stare. Miho almost laughed, and might've if the atmosphere in the room wasn't so tense. Shikamaru had been closer to Naruto for years.
"I was about to say that too, if you would've let me finish. Troublesome woman."
Ino shrugged her narrow shoulders, settling now that Miho's panic attack had abated. "Might not've been your first response. Probably wouldn't be many people's response right now. I mean, obviously, it would've been there and then. You came back from the dead for him."
If her voice shook at that, then nobody acknowledged it.
Shikamaru certainly didn't.
He put away the kunai as if just realizing that he was holding it. He looked a bit ashamed as he slid it back into his holster.
"That was a whole different world. Your past life."
"I-It was."
"You died."
Chōji's voice was quivering. Tears were still streaming down his great cheeks and over his clan-markings. Miho bit the inside of her lips to keep herself from crying again as she watched him try to gain control. Water seemed to drip from his nose as he quickly brought both shoulders up to his face.
"You died, Miho! You d-died and Pa almost died! Shikamaru almost died! Our teacher died! We just met our teacher! He-He has-had a little— a little girl!" Chōji was quickly falling into a panic attack. Shikamaru's hand on his shoulder wasn't helping. Miho moved across the room in an instant, rubbing his back in circular motions. It was the only way to calm him when his sobs became this powerful.
"It's okay. I'm okay. Shikamaru's okay. Papa's okay. We're all okay. None of what you saw has happened yet."
"Y-Yes it did! You died."
Sucking in a breath, Miho fought away the images. Upside down, the pain under her right breast, the winds and rain. It haunted her, sure. Still. She still woke up choking on blood. That didn't matter though. Chōji needed her to be calm. Chōji needed her.
"She died. I'm me. You can mourn her. The 'me' there. She's not me, but she's still here. She's me. Yeah, though, she did die. It was terrifying, but…I'm still here." She stopped rubbing the circles as his tears abated dried and he looked up at her. Smiling a bit, Miho dragged her palm over his cheeks. "The nightmares, Chōji. All of this. These things are the nightmares."
It wasn't all of the nightmares.
No, the other ones she would keep to herself.
Under lock-and-key. She'd hide it, keep it away from the world.
The room fell into tense silence.
"There was no way you could've stopped the Uchiha Massacre."
Lifting her head, she stared into Shikamaru's sharp gaze. It felt as if she'd been struck. She wondered just how much Ino had shown them, how much she let them know. Her heart stuttered, sending a nervous thrill through her shoulders.
"There was no way it could be stopped. Not by you."
She glanced to Ino, wanting an apology or a shrug. Instead, Miho found raised eyebrows and crossed arms. A firm "I told you so" painted on her face. And, though Miho had never hit a friend outside of a spar, she was sorely tempted to cross the space and clock Ino with a right hook.
"That whole situation was troublesome, too deep and too old."
Miho didn't respond, turning back to Chōji. She needed an anchor. She needed something stable she had to stand for or she was going to fall. He was steeling himself now, she could see, like he always did when his convictions won out against his fear.
"How do we stop it?"
"Which part?"
"All of it."
Ino snorted, shaking her head. "We can't stop all of it. If we stop too many things earlier on, we won't be able to predict anything." She gestured vaguely toward Shikamaru. "Wouldn't the butterfly effect apply here or something?"
"There's already waves just by Miho's presence. She wasn't in that version, was she? She's already changed all of our stories, somehow."
Stories.
Miho flinched.
She was like Chekhov's Gun, constantly firing at anything that moved.
She stepped away from Chōji, moving toward the window at the back corner of the archive room. The sun had disappeared over the horizon and there was only a scant amount of light left. Soon, they would need to go their separate ways. Soon, she'd need to go back to performing.
"The Chūnin Exams. That's where things start to go off-the-rails."
"That looked like a drag." Shikamaru groaned.
"What about the blank spots?" Chōji questioned.
Miho sighed. "I forgot, or she did. Or she didn't watch or read all of it. Like when you only remember bits and pieces of a book."
"You only remembered the highlights."
"Or her favorite characters." Ino smiled, but it was fond. Then, her smile faded. It faded until it was cold. "She saved those memories, the ones you saw. She can't remember much of her own past life because of it." Ino supplied, sounding guilty. She shouldn't sound like that. Miho knew she would've lost so much more if it wasn't for Ino's help. "What I showed you was all she can remember."
"I don't want to remember any of it— the past life." Miho sighed. "It hurts."
That statement hung above their heads for a long moment.
"The Chūnin Exams. I'll think of something."
That was the equivalent of having Shikamaru's 100% buy-in and support. Miho turned to look at him, lifting her chin just a bit at the challenging expression his face. She knew he'd hidden most of his reaction to the onslaught, but his kneejerk response had been telling. Shikamaru was like a deep river. Still waters run deep and all that.
And Shikamaru was dependable. She knew that.
Maybe this time around, he wouldn't try to sleep through the invasion.
"I know you will."
Shikamaru nodded.
"There're a lot of major players." Chōji finally grabbed the chip bag from the table, popping one into his mouth. He sighed around it, savoring the salt and onion flavor. She could practically taste it and her mouth watered. She was way behind on her calories for the day. She'd have to do a carb and protein sprint that evening to make up for it. She had 15,000 calories to make up for. "The four of us aren't enough."
"Not everyone can know. That'd be too dangerous." Ino responded. Her tone wasn't unkind, but it was short-tempered. "You think we haven't thought of that? Hell, we spent almost a month thinking about telling the Hokage. You can see why we didn't."
"Aside from the fact that you know way too many S-class secrets?"
"We know way too many S-class secrets and, yeah, Shikamaru, aside from that."
"We couldn't think of a valid way to explain it that wouldn't end with both of us in a cell or tortured by T&I, nevermind that Ino's dad runs that place."
Ino grimaced, looking away.
She hated keeping this from her father.
Miho understood.
Miho understood that well.
"What a drag." His expression shifted thoughtful. Miho had always been fascinated with how his mind worked. She expected he already had four or five strategies in the works. Even if he hadn't fully processed everything he now knew. "Telling the Third wouldn't go well. Telling the Fifth…"
"Let's table that for now." Miho nodded. She was finally feeling as if she had her feet under her. She had herself under control. The surprise at the sheer volume of information Ino dumped into them was still overwhelming, but she'd parce through that later. "We've got some time. Not much, but some. We can figure out the best course once you both have time to…think."
Chōji looked up again, talking around his mouth full of chips. "You are my sister, Miho." The statement caught her off-guard. His eyes were sharp still. He'd been thinking everything through, reaching his own conclusions. "Ino showed us everything."
Miho's breath caught and she glanced to Ino, trying to find some solace with her. Her best friend wouldn't meet her eyes for a long moment, but when she did, Miho felt the world tilt. It seemed today just wasn't going to give her any respite whatsoever. All of the secrets would come out. Apparently, Ino thought this was another band-aid that needed to be ripped off.
She tried not to feel hurt by it.
"You should've asked me." Miho said.
Ino was ruthless when she felt she needed to be. Even if she looked tense and a little remorseful, she didn't break eye contact. "You would've said no. Like you always do."
Closing her eyes for a moment, Miho shifted her feet so that they were squarely beneath her shoulders. A deep breath, like she was centering for a bō spar. In through the nose, out through the mouth. Find the center of gravity.
When she opened her eyes again, she saw the center of gravity staring back at her.
"Yeah, Chōji, I'm your sister."
"How long have you known?"
"Since I turned eight."
"Summary," Ino inserted. Everyone's eyes went to her. "A war is coming by the time we're sixteen or seventeen. It's massive and world-ending. The moon is somehow involved. We need to protect Naruto and somehow protect ourselves too. There's about twenty different S-class secrets you now know. And we're walking among dead people until we see this through."
Ino dusted off her pants and stood.
"And Miho's adopted. Now, we need to get a move on. We've got a lot of preparing to do if we're gonna survive this. And if we're gonna help our friends and family make it out the other side."
Chōji rose to his feet as if he was called to do so. Shikamaru, somehow, didn't comment on what a drag all of this was. Instead, he nodded and then his brows pulled together in question.
"What was that song we heard?"
Koji was already three eggs into the meal when Tetsuya arrived to their spread-out picnic blanket. Miho gestured toward the edge, handing him a protein-enhanced omelet and a small canteen. They were at the edge of Training Ground Five, camped until a large pecan tree. Miho'd finished her morning routine at five, returning home to shower and dress before arriving at the training field thirty minutes prior to the scheduled time.
Lee had not returned from his mission, but she ran their usual circuits anyway. Sticking to the advice of the hospital, Miho kept her arm weights off and didn't do her usual upper body sets. Instead, she focused on lower body and endurance.
"You didn't eat, did you?"
Tetsuya had the good sense to look chastised.
"Trust me, Stringbean. My family may not look like it, but we're the leading nutritionists in the Shinobi Nations. We know what we're talking about. I packed your omelet with protein-enhancing herbs and additions."
"Thanks, Chubs." Tetsuya nodded, scarfing the whole thing down in minutes. When he finished, he sat back and rubbed his stomach appreciatively. "You always cook that good?"
"Kinda hard to be an Akimichi and not know how to cook. We start learning when we're little."
"My Da started teaching me woodworking when I was three." Koji said, tone a bit wistful. "I…was thinking last night." He shifted, moving to his knees at his corner of the picnic blanket. "You use a bō, right? I can hewn one for you, if you want." Miho's mouth opened, but Koji wasn't done yet. She sensed a shift in the set of his shoulders. "Tetsuya, with your close combat style, I could make you some wooden tonfa."
She smiled around the four strips of bacon in her mouth as Tetsuya's eyes widened comically before he threw himself across the blanket and into Koji's arms. Poor Koji was caught completely off-guard and toppled sideways, batting his attacker away.
"Aw, c'mon! It's just big ol' Koji makin' his teammates some sick ass weapons. Ain't nothing that remarkable about it!"
This accent was new. It sounded like a mountain dialect. She'd never heard him use it before in all her years sitting next to him in class. Strange. Miho filed that away in her mind and reached over to ruffle Tetsuya's hair with her good hand. He stilled and looked her way from under the fringe of his brown hair.
"You two are cute." She nodded at Koji. "I would love to have a bō created by my teammate."
"What if we don't pass?" Tetsuya questioned. At Koji's raised eyebrow, he scuttled backward and raised his hands. "I mean, I am sure we're gonna rock it and do awesome and all, but you know, what if— he doesn't let us go forward?"
Miho stared at him, completely unused to seeing this kind of honesty and genuine concern from Tetsuya. Trying to reconcile this with the bully she knew when she was younger was an odd adjustment, but not an unwelcome one. She rolled her shoulders. "Well, I'd say we'll figure out another way to work together."
"Chyeah, the Book Club can't be broken up like that." Koji snapped his fingers. "We'll just have to figure out another way."
Tetsuya nodded and grinned, raising a fist. "Then I'll take those tonfa, Koji-my-man. We'll be the most badass team with wood weapons out there."
"So, what's my present then?"
Miho jumped, yanking a kunai out of her pouch. She felt the boys behind her, knowing they had also moved into defensive stances. Standing over her was Shiranui Genma with a placid expression and his ever-present senbon rolling to the corner of his lips.
"No present for your teacher? Gotta say, I'm disappointed. Maybe I won't pass you after all."
Body going slack, Miho put the kunai away and settled back onto her butt, watching her teammates do the same. Tetsuya was clutching his chest like he was clutching pearls, eyes now suspicious and alert. Koji still hadn't put away his kunai, but it sat in his clenched hand on his thigh.
"What do you mean 'after all'?" Miho wondered, pulling herself up to stand. "What about the test?"
"Eh, you already passed. Only idiots wouldn't eat breakfast before a mission. Check. You figured out to come here. Check. You're already talkin' about stayin' together even if you're not a team. Check. You cover each other's backs and you're already bein' all cute with your matching outfits. Just what the hell am I supposed to do?" His eyes widened and Miho thought for sure that he hadn't meant to say that out loud. He cleared his throat and shrugged his shoulders, easing both hands into his pockets. "So, Team Five, you can call me Genma-sensei."
"Hell yes!" Tetsuya cried. Miho didn't expect for him to collide into her side, dragging Koji with him. "Team Five, ride or die! Book Club, let's get it!" It was their first group hug and she smiled so wide her eyes shut.
"Book Club, let's get it!"
Miho really thought no less of Genma-sensei when he put a palm to his forehead, even if she joined in the cheer.
"Alright then, nerds. Sparring. I need to get a read on your skills. Koji, you're with me first. I want you to come at me with intent to kill. Miho and Tetsuya, taijutsu-only over there. No chakra. First blood wins. Don't overextend your shoulder, little lady."
Rolling the still-sore shoulder, Miho nodded. She and Tetsuya walked to the far side of the training field, all the while watching as Koji got into stance.
"Do you want me to fight with a handicap? Keep it even?"
Her kneejerk response was a sneer, thinking that he was trying to insult her, but she snapped her mouth shut when she turned. Tetsuya's face was completely sincere, eyes focused on the bandages.
"No, I won't have that kindness on the battlefield."
He nodded, jaw tensing. "First one to draw blood buys takoyaki?"
That was the reverse of how it should be. The first one to bleed should buy, by normal standards, but he didn't waver or correct himself.
Miho grinned and lowered herself into the Akimichi taijutsu style, squaring her shoulders, lowering her top half and her center of gravity. She'd always thought that Lee's style was prettier, with graceful leg sweeps and follow-throughs. Lee's fighting style was like dancing. By comparison, hers was rough. It was all about taking strikes and funneling that energy into her body fat. It was about takedowns and strength.
"You really know how to motivate me, Stringbean."
"You're not putting me in the dirt again, Chubs."
It seemed they both sensed the "Begin."
Lee always said that the style reflects the person, that you could understand another person at their most base level just by fighting hand-to-hand. She knew that well enough from training with Lee. His heart was good and dedicated and every hit reflected that.
Tetsuya's hits were confident and, somehow, desperate. Miho swung underneath a right hook and dove forward, hooking him around the center before throwing him down onto his back. He was up again in an instant and her ears were ringing. He was also fast. Like a contortionist or a gymnast.
Miho could take hits.
It was the benefit of the Akimichi build. Heavyweights were like tanks. Build to suffer damage from repeated hits before firing off a devastating finishing blow. Miho didn't dodge as much as Tetsuya, accumulating about three punches to her gut within the first few minutes. But three of his hits didn't hurt nearly as much as when her fist landed on his jaw.
Tetsuya flew back, landing in a crouch about ten feet away. "What the hell was that? No chakra."
Miho felt a bit smug. "I didn't use chakra."
Her leg weights were slowing her movements considerably, but she still crossed the gap faster than Tetsuya could get his arms up. Tetsuya leaned back to dodge, still somehow maintaining his balance, whipping around to throw a kick into her back. Miho grimaced but didn't budge, spinning to throw her knee into his stomach. The weights increased the force of her kick.
When he struck the tree, the bark cut his cheek.
Miho jumped over, landing by his side and kneeling. "You okay?"
"Ouch. Damn, Chubs." He sat up, rubbing at his face. There were bits of wood and bark in his hair. Shaking it out, he felt at the scratch and pulled his fingers away to see the blood. "You're buying takoyaki today."
"Tetsuya, you're a natural at evasion and aerials. We need to get you started on weight training. Your hits are fast, but they're not hard. Your speed is your greatest tool and we're gonna develop it." Miho looked up to see Genma-sensei standing over her and her teammate. She glanced behind him to see Genma-sensei still battling Koji, who threw up a wall of earth between him and their teacher. "Your flexibility would be useful if you took up kenjutsu."
"Swords?" Tetsuya sat up a bit more, dark eyes sparkling at the idea. "Really?"
"Not my wheelhouse. We'll see what we can figure out."
The ground shook and Miho glanced back again to see Koji pushing himself up from a crater before collapsing again. She was running in the next second, skidding on the grass to press a hand to his chest.
"Stay still for a second, Hoss."
His bleary eyes looked up at her, brows contorted in confusion. "Is— Is that my nickname?" He chuckled, shaking his head as if to clear it. "Is it my concussion? I don't know that word."
Miho struggled for a second, trying to think of an explanation. The word just came into her mind, like lyrics to a song she didn't know or thoughts that were decidedly not hers. The word felt familiar, endearing. Like she'd heard loved ones say it before, in a language that was not her own. Swallowing down the panic, Miho nodded and forced a grin.
"It's another word for 'horse'! Like you're strong!"
"Hoss, huh? Okay…It's original. Better thank 'Stringbean.'"
"Ohm, screw you, Woodchuck."
Genma-sensei sighed, kneeling down to look over Koji. Surprisingly, whereas he was standoffish before, Koji didn't draw away from their teacher. "What is with you three and nicknames?"
"You want the logical explanation or the fun one?" Tetsuya questioned, plopping down onto the grass nearby.
Their teacher rolled his eyes. "It was a rhetorical question."
"'We're cute.' is the fun answer." Koji supplied. "Do you want a nickname, sensei?"
"No. Nicknames end up in bingo books. Can't imagine how intimidating it would be to see 'Utatane 'Stringbean' Tetsuya comin' at me in a battle."
Miho laughed, settling back on her haunches as Koji sat up. He looked a little worse for wear, dirty, and exhausted, but also excited. Tetsuya was muttering under his breath about how he needed a new nickname, which she studiously ignored.
"You're gonna be one hell of a marksman, Koji. You almost got me that one time. Pretty good." Genma-sensei actually did look a bit impressed, even if his expression barely changed. He shifted the senbon to the other side of his mouth and frowned. "You gotta work on your ninjutsu and your close-range stuff. We're starting a new style tomorrow. The Academy style is useless for you. You've got too much mass for it."
"You callin' me fat?" Koji joked.
"He really can't do that with me on the team." Miho grinned.
This brought Genma-sensei's attention to her and she sat a bit straighter, more like the well-brought-up young mistress of a noble clan rather than the kunoichi that was dead-beat tired.
"Which brings me to you. You're way faster than people anticipate. You can use that to your advantage. You're a long-term fighter, can take hits for days and keep getting up. And you know it. That kind of confidence makes you overextend and messes up your balance." He jerked his head toward the training field. "You're up next, Miho. Boys, taijutsu."
Tetsuya groaned, rolling himself up to his feet. He held out a hand for Koji.
She stopped, watching as Genma-sensei moved to a spot about thirty feet away. His hands remained in his pockets. "Remember: intent to kill. You're not at the level to hurt me. You're showcasing your skills."
Miho nodded, pulling her fisted hands back and squaring her feet beneath her shoulders. She felt her chakra spin and whirl, like the wind when she died. At that moment though, the image of swirling clouds didn't bring her fear. It gave her strength. Chōji was way better at this than she was, pulling the energy from her fat and into her muscles. He was so good at it that he'd even landed a few blows on their father. She'd never managed that, despite her speed and agility.
Still, she had other tricks up her sleeves.
"Go." Miho threw herself forward, flipping a kunai into her palm as she moved. The blade was a hair away when Genma-sensei disappeared, reappearing behind her with a solid downward kick into her back. Miho rolled, spinning into one of her family's Justus.
She felt her skin stretch and contort as she inflated. The chakra pulled at her bones and skin until she was speeding toward her teacher. The Leaf-Style Taijutsu: Human Bullet Tank deflected his senbon attack, the rotation deflecting the needles as she slammed into him. As he flew back, landing a few meters away with his eyes narrowed, Miho stopped and collapsed her body back down to its normal size. She was on one knee, waiting for him to make the first move.
"You're not using the true Multi-Size Technique?" He asked as he appeared at her size, throwing a kunai at her chest.
Miho dodged. Thankfully, her speed paid off and the kunai struck the ground. "Not in my wheelhouse, sensei!"
Slapping a hand to her right forearm armor, she channeled her chakra into the seal. The top of her bō appeared and she dragged her arm back, holding it in place while her left hand pulled the staff from the white light emitted from the storage seal.
"Fancy. My compliments to Akimichi Torifu. Don't drop it this time."
Swinging it around, she affirmed her grip and nodded. "I'm already working on it, Genma-sensei."
"Yeah? Keep workin' on it." He switched to ninjutsu— a flurry of fire attacks and wind attacks, making Miho keep in constant motion. He was actively trying to make her lose her grip with all the spinning and deflecting. One of the jutsu caught her sleeve, scalding the skin underneath. Miho hissed and swung the bō while her balance was off, causing her to over-correct. "That's what I'm talking about. Right there. Get your balance under control or someone's gonna bury you."
She held her breath, spinning the bō fast enough to block a hail of kunai.
Then, the bō was gone and she slid left, hearing the clatter of the wood against the ground.
Growling in irritation, Miho forced her right arm forward, slamming into his chest. She put as much force as she could into it. There was a snap under her palm and anxiety jolted through her.
Wind. The wind was too loud.
That momentary loss of focus was enough. An elbow came down on her head.
Miho was face-down in the dirt in the next instant, the blade of a kunai pressed to the nape of her neck.
He fell back and sat down, adjusting the senbon in his mouth as she rolled over. She wasn't winded, but the pain ebbing at the top of her head was making her hold her breath. Once she recovered enough, Miho pushed herself up and looked to him for his analysis. His eyes had trailed over to Tetsuya and Koji, who were sitting under the pecan tree again, watching.
"Focus. You gotta stay focused. And fix your damn grip. I'll make a personal visit to Lord Torifu if I have to." Miho dipped her head, staring at her palms. They were sweaty, practically soaked. Biting her lip, she nodded. "You need a bigger ninjutsu repertoire if you can't do many clan techniques. We'll work on that. You're set to be a long-fight taijutsu powerhouse, but you can't rely on that— Not with your chakra stores. Yo, Koji!"
"Yeah, Boss Man?"
"Don't give me a nickname, damn it." This was said under his breath, but Miho could tell he was already resigned to his fate. It was only a matter of time. Grinning, she looked over to the guys and waved. They waved back. "Get chakra-conductive wood for your presents. Tetsuya, you're up!"
Miho pushed herself up, leaning her hands on hers knees for a long moment before standing upright. Her whole body hurt, even more than when she and Lee did their spars.
"And don't think I didn't notice those dang weights. Who's monitoring those?"
Sheepish, Miho scratched at her cheek. "I— Um, Gai-sensei."
Genma-sensei cringed dramatically, waving her off. "Tell him I said to double the goal. You're capable of more."
Not sure what he meant, Miho nodded anyway. Her muscles were already aching. She moved toward where Koji sat, tapping Tetsuya's high-five as they exchanged places.
"I gotta buy him dango."
"This is the literal opposite of how bets usually work." Miho called, walking backward.
Tetsuya threw his hands up. "There's just no pleasing you, Chubs!"
Koji welcomed her to the blanket, sighing as he patted at the cut on his arm. "I think he fundamentally doesn't understand gambling." Once Genma-sensei and Tetsuya got started, Koji turned to her and smiled. "Let's take a break for a moment. Here." He handed her a snack from his pack, a high-calorie one, and a water bottle.
Miho grinned, settling onto the blanket.
Chōji flinched when he saw her.
She saw it. He knew she did. His sister was observant like that. She knew him better than anyone. Better than Shikamaru. So, when he saw the slightest downturn in the corners of her mouth, he felt shame well up like indigestion. It bubbled and gurgled and writhed. And Chōji felt terrible.
He tracked her movement— a little unsteady, definitely tired. Worry overtook the shame. She was an endurance specialist. Why was she so tired? Practically nothing tired her out anymore, especially if she was eating right.
Did she eat right? Did she forget snacks?
Normally, Chōji made sure to pack up her snacks before she left for her early-morning sessions. That morning, he didn't. He avoided her, staying in bed later so he didn't have to see the dark circles under her eyes. Chōji had never felt to terrible in his life.
Miho approached, eyes downcast. She wasn't looking at him. She didn't want to look at him, he knew. His sister would normally run up to his side, embrace him, draw him into the house for snacks and stories.
Ino threatened him to within an inch of his "miserable existence" if he made Miho sad. At the time, he'd silently balked and chewed his chips with extra vigor. Because how dare Ino think he would treat Miho any differently. Chōji sighed, shaking his head. Ino knew better than anyone.
Ino knew his sister better than anyone.
Chōji didn't think he had a right to say that fact hurt.
"Miho."
She stopped a few feet away, obviously intent on walking right past him. Toward the training fields. With the way her feet dragged and the bruises he could see under her arm guards, Chōji silently prayed she wasn't going to do more training.
"Elder Torifu left for the Capital today."
Her eyes lifted and met his. They were sharp— almost challenging. The glint in them was enough to unsettle him a bit.
She resented him. For what he did that morning. Chōji felt sick.
"C-Can we talk?"
He could see that she wanted to say 'no.' The slightest shift in her weight told him that she desperately wantedto stop her foot and say 'absolutely not.' Miho stopped herself, shifted her weight again, and nodded.
Miho was endlessly supportive and patient with him. He knew that. She'd always been encouraging him, building him up, and protecting him. Like that time she punched that mean bully at the Academy that called him 'useless.' At that time, Chōji thought she was a hero. She protected him and then she protected Naruto. She protected Naruto and him like they were precious.
Chōji followed her to the archives, watching her back as they moved.
Her shoulders were broader than his and she was taller than him. Bigger than him. Chōji bit his lip and felt tear prick at his eyes. But she was his little sister. He was supposed to protect her.
He was supposed to shield her from the world, keep her safe. He was supposed to be the one that fought off the bullies. He was supposed to be the one that supported her with everything. He was supposed to be there for her.
Her shoulders were so strong, but there was so much weight on them.
It was a wonder she could shoulder it all.
When they stepped into the back study room, Miho pressed her palm against the privacy seal and pushed her chakra into it. Then she moved to the chair farthest from the door, on the other side of the table. Putting actual, physical distance between her and the rest of the world. And him.
Chōji— for the first time in his life— felt a wave of nausea.
She sat down, hiding behind a plastic smile. "How did your team test go?"
His hands fisted, the bag of chips crinkling.
How was he supposed to protect her?
How was he supposed to protect their family? Shikamaru? Ino? Asuma?
The village?
He watched as her eyes softened. "Chōji, it's okay."
"It's not okay." He sat the chips down on the table. "It's not okay, Miho."
She shifted. He could see the guilt. He could see regret. Like she regretted showing him. His hands gripped the edge of the table. The wood age-old cracked under his palms. Miho glanced up to him before squeezing her eyes shut and lowering her head again. Chōji bit the inside of his cheek so hard that he could taste the metallic brine.
"Miho, I don't know where to start. Shikamaru doesn't know where to start."
"I'm sorry I shouldn't have –"
"No!" Chōji cut her off, leaning over the edge of the table. "No! That's not what I'm saying. I should know. I want to know. I need to know so I can help, so I can change things."
She knew his nervous habits and her eyes ticked to his right fingers, which twitched toward the chip back on the table. He knew her tells too. She swallowed and rolled her shoulders. She picked up the habit from Elder Torifu. He always thought it was adorable, a mannerism older than her age. But now? It made him want to cry.
It really, really made him want to cry.
"Knowing doesn't mean we can change it."
The Uchiha.
Naruto.
"No, but we have a chance." Chōji argued back.
If she lost hope…If she didn't believe that things could be different, then why did she show him? Why did she show Shikamaru? Why did she show Ino all those years ago? Why did she treat Naruto like family? Why?
"It means we can make a difference. We didn't have this there. Then. In those pictures. In that story. We didn't have you. You weren't my sister there."
She flinched.
He stared at her, grip growing tighter on the ledge of the table.
Sawdust in his palms.
"You're. my. sister."
Miho nodded, tears in her eyes. She was struggling to hold everything together, hands clenching and unclenching. He hated to see her cry. He hated it more than anything. Even when Shikamaru passed judgement on people or when Ino dug her heels in for an argument. Or when someone stole the last piece of meat at a barbecue.
His father, when they were much younger, told the story of the butterfly.
"A young man who grew great crops married a girl who was an excellent gardener. They lived for each other and their plants. Their herbs and vegetables. They had a son. That son inherited his parents' love of plants and herbs and vegetables. His father had said, hands propped on his knees as they sat in the shade of a poplar. Chōji leaned into Miho's side then, chewing on a new type of protein cookie. "The couple grew old and died together when their son was still young. He tended his parents' crops carefully, believing that those plants contained the spirits of his mother and father."
Miho listened to that story with rapt attention, eyes wide and keen. Chōji never quite understood her fascination with the stories their father told, but he listened nonetheless. He just punctuated the stories with the crunch of cookies or chips whenever the tales dragged on.
"During the first spring after their death, the boy saw two butterflies in the garden. He tended extra carefully to the plants that the butterflies touched. Their legacy protected and flourishing, the butterflies examined each bloom and leaf. The boy knew his parents had become butterflies. In many ways, so too, did the boy become a butterfly as well. We are the descendants of that boy. Do you know what that means?"
Chōji never understood it.
Miho drew a hand over her cheek, painting the tears over her spiral clan marking.
"You're always going to be my sister, Miho. It doesn't matter what changes." Chōji shifted, releasing the table. He felt the sawdust fall from his fingers and glanced down to see the indentions. He wasn't strong enough to do something like that. "Am I always gonna be your brother?"
She shot to her feet. "Of course— Of course, you are, Chōji!"
He hurried across the space, shoving chairs out of the way. His eyes squeezed shut as his chin rested on her shaking shoulder. He wasn't able to lock his arms around her, but he did cling to her yukata top. She smelled like dirt. She smelled like sweet buns. And he clung to her like she was the only stable thing in that storm that killed her.
"I'll protect you. I-I promise."
Miho nodded, pressing her face into his meaty shoulder. "I'll-I'll protect you too. I will."
It was midnight or close to it.
Chōji was asleep on her bed, curled up like a meatball under the fluffy comforter. Drool was pooling on her sheets. Their parents had snuck in earlier during the night, taking pictures and cooing over their cuteness. Miho had been awake, cutting them a glare over her brother's mass. Her mother giggled and her father warmly laughed. The sound was comforting and Chōji's breathing was comforting, but she felt the anxiety building.
He left it to her— to decide. When to tell her parents that she knew.
It all paled in comparison to what was coming. She knew that.
Ultimately, it didn't matter that she wasn't the blood daughter of Akimichi Chōza and Akimichi Aiko. It didn't matter that she wasn't Chōji's true blood sister.
Still, her fingers brushed along the intricate seal.
The scroll glistened in the moonlight filtering in from her window. Red parchment, etched with symbols that she didn't recognize from all her years haunting the Akimichi library.
Nearly all Akimichi scrolls held the clan symbol: a bō staff through the wings of a butterfly. Circled by the whole harvest.
Strength and transformation and community.
Instead, there was a single symbol printed on the edge. She wondered at it, pulling a finger over the symbol until the pad of her finger felt raw with the ridges of it. It bent and twisted, cutting an image she didn't recognize. A series of curves, one falling into the next, drew a figure. A jagged line divided the animal— that's what it had to be— in half lengthwise.
She sat staring at it for the longest time, until one of Chōji's snores tore him out of his dreams and he startled awake, throwing himself out of his ball. Half-asleep, he sat up and blinked at her.
Miho sat the scroll on the windowsill, smiling. "Go on back to sleep, Chōji. I'm okay."
"Nigh'mare?"
"Nope. Just awake."
"Kay. Y'sleep too."
She nodded, settling down next to him as he curled back up and went back to his dreams of grand feasts and incredible foods and snacks and delicacies. Turning on her side, she stared up at the windowsill just inches above her bed, the scroll glistening a bit.
Whatever that scroll held and whatever her biological mother had stored within it, Miho couldn't bring herself to open it just yet. Not when her parents didn't know that she knew. Not when she didn't even know the woman's name. It just didn't seem right. So, she closed her eyes and forced herself not to open them again.
When her eyes did open again, as she dragged herself over Chōji to get ready for her training regimen and breakfast, the scroll still sat there.
As she pulled on her clothes and wrapped her elbows and knees, the scroll still sat there.
She paused in the doorway, her bō slung over her shoulder.
Turning, she stared at the scroll and then glanced down to Chōji's smile while he slept.
She shut the door.
A/N: THANK YOU ALL SO MUCH FOR THE REVIEWS AND FAVORITES AND FOLLOWS! Each notification lights up my day! Please leave me reviews for this most current chapter! Again, thank you again and I hope all of you have a fantastic day!