Chapter 9: The end of the world or welcome, hormones, teenagerhood has begun
Summary: In which the ghost-Hokages save the world (not that it will ever know), Calla finds out her social and observational skills add up to zero but makes friends anyway (where's that troll when you need it?) and she cannot behave in front of clan heads.
Her workday was about the same every day. A part of her was still baffled that as a ten-year-old she had a workday to talk about. No such thing as labour laws in this world, unfortunately, or children's rights. Or human rights, come to think of it. A noble could kill you in broad daylight without repercussions. If it happened within one of the hidden villages there might be more pressure as civilians paid higher taxes in return for the increased safety and protection, but they would still get away with little more than a slap on the wrist.
Calla had been horrified by some of the things they sent these children to do; after her first time cleaning up torture and interrogation, the last job of her day, she had been so, so glad the next day was her day off. No one was in there – but they didn't need to be. There were fluids – blood and something else Calla desperately tried not to identify – along with score marks, empty handcuffs and scorched floors. Yes, definitely trying not to think of it. The other rooms were no better.
Not in the right mind to cook anything, Calla had grabbed take away on her way home and then piled all the cushions in the cupboard and on the sofa onto her bed and huddled down as she trembled.
She still remembered Hermione screaming, bleeding, and the mad cackles of Bellatrix, whose eyes had been locked on her with each cut made by that cursed knife. She still remembered Fenrir's threats, the golden glow in his eyes, remembered screaming, begging, pleading until her voice was hoarse. Dobby had helped them then, rescued them. But how many had not had that opportunity? How many didn't have Draco lie for them, and an escape after only a very short stay in the Malfoy home?
By the time Calla grew more aware of her surroundings, night had long since fallen and the food was cold; not that it mattered. Everything tasted like ash anyway, after any of her episodes, but Hermione had forced both her and Ron into routines after a breakdown.
First, eat something with protein, then a shower or a bath if you could tolerate it. Dress in happy comfortable clothes and do something distracting but mindless. For Hermione, that was usually a romance book (she'd scoff and be derisive, but Calla knew Hermione finished each and everyone of them).
Ron had taken a bit longer to settle on something – chess had taken on too many negative connotations as he'd helped them strategise a lot during the war. Instead, Ron had actually focussed on watching movies and gotten very invested very quickly; it was hilarious.
Calla on the other hand had settled on a method which didn't work in this new world. Skinship (Hermione's words) or cuddling (Ron's words) usually helped where she just curled up between her friends and listened to them talk. Ginny, Luna and Hermione were always up for a cuddle. Ron pretended he wasn't but if it was just around her or Hermione, he'd be happily sitting there chatting away for hours. Neville was like her in some ways and still struggled with positive touch. Calla didn't want to force him to accept touch when he didn't want it just to help her when she had so many others to lean on. Cuddling with George usually ended with both of them drunk on the couch, laughing and crying – most times simultaneously.
Calla missed them. In the past two years she still hadn't found anyone she could reach out to. Hopefully, the genin corps would be a change. Before, Calla simply had no interaction with older children as they left the orphanage and the Academy only allowed children up until the age of fourteen. Now, hopefully, she'd be interacting with a wider range of people. There were even some in their early twenties in the genin corps – although she doubted that they would be interested in befriending a ten-year-old, irrespective of whatever maturity Calla might display.
Stumbling out of the shower, wrapped in a fluffy towel (another new thing, brand-new, fluffy towels which didn't abrade when you used them), Calla pulled on her dog onesie and sat down on the couch, staring blankly at the empty, dark room.
Days like these, it was hard to remember why she decided to live again. Why she decided to pretend to be a child, when she felt so old and worn inside. Why she tried to hide her power, learn their culture and their power, rather than just either destroy it all, or hide away as a hermit somewhere in the middle of nowhere.
On days like this, when she kept seeing just what they did to people in this world, she really wanted to just burn it all to the ground, to destroy it. A part of her thought that maybe, maybe all these villains had been right – they just hadn't come to the ultimate conclusion. That sometimes, maybe it was better to start afresh. Wipe the slate clean.
She was sick of having to look for the good in people, of trying to convince them that being kind, being generous and looking out for each other, was worth it. That every person had value. Like it was her job, her sole purpose in life, being the sole beacon of light when all other sputtered out, being the guiding hand, irrespective of her age, and leading the good fight, despite the older, more capable – and, above all, adult – fighters out there.
Except she wasn't sure if she really could see the good in everyone. Not only did the military dictatorship here endorse the torture of people, but, worse than that, they made children clean it up. Children.
Sometimes, on days like this, Calla wasn't sure if she believed in the good of people herself, believed that everyone deserved to live.
Sat in dark room, Calla watched the stars outside, heard the noise and commotion outside her apartment slow and the noise in the red-light district around the corner start up. Despite the warmth in her apartment – Calla felt cold.
Making herself invisible, Calla apparated to the red light district, watched the suspiciously young looking men and women seek to entice both men and women into their rooms, watched the tiny, abandoned children of the District, run errands, saw the trembling hands of nervous young women and the hard look in the eyes of the elder ones, the flinch in a young man and the ducked head and too-thin frame of another man.
Transporting herself across the nations, she saw the wet streets with people soaked, and hunger-ridden frames in Ame, the desolation echoing with the cries of the dead in Uzushio, the fleeing and screaming in Kiri as people were killed for their blood. She saw Suna, Iwa and Kusa, stepped through small villages and large alike – anywhere the dead were calling from.
When she returned home, her eyes were empty as she gazed at the village in front of her. Konoha, a village which promised prosperousness and kindness, which spoke of teams and families, of a will of fire inherent in all. And Calla remembered the scared orphans disappearing without investigation, the school promoting and then shunting her off once she was no longer as valuable as they had thought, remembered the orphans and civilians who had hoped, had trained and were now bound in a contract they had no hope of understanding at six and made barely enough to survive.
This was their system. This world's system. Survival of the fittest.
And Calla disagreed, always had. It was Vernon's system. It was Voldemort's system. And, in many ways, it had also been Dumbledore's. She was tired of it. Tired of running and fighting and trying to fix it. Was it even worth it?
"Is this what you imagined it to be?" Calla asked, looking out onto Konoha as the sun rose again, covering the village in a beautiful glow – hiding its flaws, the red light district having finished up a few hours earlier.
"Is this everything you wanted it to be? What you imagined when you built it?" She continued asking, having made the previous Hokage follow her on her journey, forcing them to see the world as she saw it.
"I just wanted peace," Hashirama explained, childish demeanour gone, eyes looking out at the village he helped build from the ground up. He looked every inch the Hokage chiselled onto the mountain for once.
"My brothers died young, died in vain, targeted as they were young children, vulnerable and our clan was a threat to others. And I didn't want Tobi to die too – or anyone else. I wanted to make it safe for other children. I wanted to make a home, where we could all be friends, where we didn't have to fight just because of our family name. I figured if both me and Madara got together, we would be strong enough no one would want to fight."
"Now they fight just because of your village name. Now the children are still sent out as cannon fodder anytime a war comes around. Children are dying every week in the village you built, and they are dying out there just as much. Because you don't share your healing techniques, you don't share your medicine or your knowledge," Calla spit out bitterly, hands clenched as she refused to look at the man.
"In what world has being strong ever helped? You said it yourself – you were strong, that just made your family, your friends and all those around you a target. It just makes others want to beat you down, see you suffer, see you brought as low as they are… I just don't see it."
A sigh from Hashirama, as he looked first at her, than away and at the view out on his beloved village.
"I'm not sure I do either. This… isn't what I wanted. I wanted peace. Tobi had to do so much as a kid. I was the heir and I had the mokuton, but Tobirama was more sickly and father made him start reading and doing clan work really young. He held him responsible when things went wrong – even though I didn't even understand, and I was older. It wasn't fair. I just… I wanted to give children a chance to be a child before they had to learn how to fight."
"Idealistic, as always, brother," scoffed Tobirama, "I could handle it just fine."
"It wasn't that you couldn't, Tobi," Hashirama corrected, eyes still sadder than she had ever seen him before, "it was that you shouldn't have had to bear that responsibility."
Calla watched as Tobirama paused before lowering his head slightly to acknowledge the truth behind his brother's statement.
"I agree. It's why I stayed behind to defend my team. I was arguably the more valuable resource… but they were children. They could grow up and change this world still, for the better I had hoped then. But maybe I should have done more."
"I concur. Children graduating too young is what gets us a lot of children who don't know how interact with others or live a normal life. They graduate too young and struggle and killing so young, it messes them up. Permanently. Most don't ever really understand the concept of questioning orders. They're like fireflies, they burn bright and fast and then disappear – either into ANBU or death, often both," Minato's blue eyes were hooded as he leaned forward. His arms were crossed over as he leaned against the windowsill.
"And we also make our jonin teachers without teaching them how. They've often been through and been taught in war themselves and with minimal instructions. Jiraiya was my assigned teacher, true, but he was only there sporadically. Instead, I was often swapped in and out of other teams and got taught by many others in whatever time we had to spare. And, maybe, some jonin simply aren't fit to be teachers. There is no test, no books or any kind of guidance. Academy standards and curriculum switch faster and more often than the Hokage's secretary, and yet jonin aren't advised of what material their students have been taught and what they haven't. If they skip grades, we don't get a curriculum for what would have been taught to them."
The streets emptied as the skies opened up for another unexpected downpour and Minato turned away from the window to look at her.
"We pass on bad habits and most teachers focus on one rather than all three students. They pick one student they want to teach and are saddled with a team. They pass on their specialisation instead of making them well-rounded; and they compete with each other instead of collaborating."
A dark look passed over Minato's eyes and it took Calla a second to identify the emotion – searing anger.
"Your student," he nodded to the Nidaime, "Danzo, had an organisation which Hiruzen only shut down just before he handed over the hat. No doubt he thought he'd hidden the evidence; thought I didn't know. He liked to forget that I, too, was an orphan. That is why I made sure not to graduate too young, and befriend clan heirs. Everyone in the orphanage knew about the children disappearing and I would've no doubt been one of them had circumstances been different."
Clenched jaw gave way to white-knuckled fists, "saw too many of my friends disappear forever. He had them do a trial-by-combat; kill the child you've been living and training with, the survivor will become part of the ranks. The missions Hiruzen authorised, the things he allowed Danzo to do, Amaterasu above, I really would've liked to drag them both in front of the village. Made them explain to all the families whose children were taken never to be seen again, that despite their talents, they refused to kill a friend and died for it. That the village they lived in, they trusted, had been the one to take them."
Minato dropped his gaze, avoiding eye contact as he turned back to the window.
"But in the end, Root had been dissolved and I was still trying to make sure our village recovered from the war. I hated it, but I let it slide. I had to focus on making things better for Kushina and our baby, for Kakashi and other children like him… but I took too long. I was still getting used to everything and Hiruzen hadn't even finished handing everything over. Kushina and me had been writing legislation for months. We were talking with the Uchiha, the Nara and the Yamanaka on child psychology and the Academy, graduation ages and all the other concerns they had. We were going to change this… but we failed as well."
To their surprise, when they turned to look at the child who had sat behind them, listening silently to each of them, she was smiling.
"Thank you," Calla said, nodding to each of them.
Then, noticing their clearly puzzled looks, she explained, "I am tired of being the only one fighting, of being a child fighting when it should be the adults standing up instead. You all had great intentions but were cut short before you could get there. But more than that, you," here she nodded at Minato, "have told me that there are adults out there with the same plans and the same vision. They just need someone to listen, someone to implement it or bring it to the masses. It's not just me, but there are other people out there who see this system as wrong and who want to change it. That means it can be changed – not only are these people who are in positions of power, but it means others have likely noticed the same and it's just a matter of finding them. It doesn't have to be me. I just have to make sure the right people meet."
"You know, I never thought I'd say this," Minato admitted with a wry smile, "but I am glad that you are our Shinigami."
Calla laughed and felt her depression lift slightly. With a skip in her step, she hopped up to the fourth Hokage and hugged him around the waist (so stupidly short. If only she could make herself taller, but self-transfiguration was really, really not recommended – unless your name was Hermione, of course, or McGonagall). And Minato gave the best hugs, it turned out, along with Tobirama. Hoshirama's were just too tight.
"Thank you, all, for coming. I was at my wit's end with this world, I will admit, but you've given me back some hope."
"Anytime," Tobirama said with a sharp nod to her before all three disappeared at once.
Okay, so she could deal with this. Needed to make some connections, feel out civilians and shinobi, but she could so do this. Just a few nudges in the right place to the right people and they'd sort themselves out.
So, as it turned out, those socially inept and emotionally stunted people the Hokages had referred to? Yeah, she may have to include herself in that number, not that it was much of a surprise to those who knew her well (or Draco). Not that Calla would call herself a genius in anything other than being extremely lucky in terribly unlucky situation (sounded like a contradiction, but wasn't - perfect example: Calla's entire life). But, surprisingly, growing up in a cupboard without friends doesn't prepare you for the real world. And, well, in the Wizarding World she hadn't needed to reach out to people – they'd all reached out to her. Who didn't want to be friends with the heroine, the latest and biggest wizarding celebrity? So… how exactly do you reach out to make friends?
"Hello, are you Kara-chan?"
Nodding mutely, well-aware that she was blushing, Calla refused to make eye contact with the person in front of her. Unfortunately, that meant they went down on one knee in front of her to be at eye height.
"I'm Yori-kun, and this idiot here is Tomo," said the boy. He had short brown hair and his eyes were a mix of brown and green and he was a lot like Neville in that in-between teenager phase. He was growing from awkward and lanky well on his way into being large and tough. Tomo, the girl beside him, waving awkwardly at her but with a gentle smile, had black hair and deep blue eyes. Calla had no doubt she'd grow up to be stunning.
"We've been grouped together for today's mission – our graveyard. I don't know if you've ever been – we take care of weeding, cleaning the gravestones, notifying the mission office if any names are fading or anything has been defaced and we put flowers out on everyone's graves and in front of the memorial stone," Tomo explained gently. Calla appreciated it – often missions were unclear until you arrived and not everyone had the patience to explain the details of a recurring mission.
Apart from today, for the rest of this week, Calla could assign her own missions and she wasn't bound to one location; before now she had been bound to the hospital and the eastern gate.
"My name is Kara, it's a pleasure to meet you," she finally said. This was so much easier – no reaching out and trying to find her mission partners, they found her. Another little reprieve from her self-assigned mission to make friends.
"As Yori mentioned, my name is Tomo, Sato Tomo. I am 14 now but I graduated at 9. My teammates died in a mission just before the end of the war. As I didn't show any special talents, I was shuffled off into here, but I am sure I can still teach you some stuff if you're interested."
Calla grimaced in sympathy; friends dying around her and coming out as the survivor was only-too-familiar.
"I'm sorry about your friends, Tomo-senpai. I would be happy to learn from you."
"Aww," Tomo squealed, prodding the boy beside her sharply with an elbow in his ribs, "see, Yori-kun, that's how you do it. Senpai, I like that. I'll be your senpai, don't worry, and I'll protect you from his stupidity," she finished in a mock-whisper, making Calla laugh.
"Mah, don't listen to her. I'm 16 and as you senpai's senpai, I am so much more awesome! I'm Matsuda Yori, but just call me Yori-sensei," he winked at her playfully, making her giggle when Tomo growled in mock-anger.
"I've got three siblings at home, so we have to make sure to ace this mission or they'll lose all respect for me," he finished, and Calla nodded, still grinning, but noticed that both he and Tomo exchanged a serious look. So, the mission was important, huh? Was it the mission itself or the reward or interaction with others during it?
Hm, well, maybe she'd find out. Well, the good thing about the genin corps was the lack of competitiveness. In the Academy with the scoring system, the class system predicated for only letting the most successfully pass, it could be rather cutthroat – though, luckily, not in the literal sense as it had been in Kiri, or, apparently, under Danzo's hands.
In the genin corps it was made rather clear from the very beginning that there was no up, that this was it for the next five years with no prospect of progression, so people actually tended to bond together over the miserable conditions and the shitty – sometimes literally when they were assigned to clear the sewer or toilets of obstructions – missions they were assigned.
"I'll be in your care," Calla said with a bow towards them and they both patted her easily on the shoulder (Yori) and the head (Tomo), leading her out away from the genin corps administration office.
To her surprise, they led the way to the florist she'd bought her plants from.
"Ah, Yori-san and Tomo-san, was it? Are you both here for the monthly memorial stone mission?"
On her first – and last – visit here, Calla had dealt with a young woman with long brown hair and a sunhat on. This time there was a tall man behind the counter with pale blonde hair like Luna and pale blue eyes without pupil. Huh. Another clan person.
"Oh, and who are you?" The man asked, smiling as he bent down to look her in the eyes. Calla had no doubt this man had noticed her the moment she'd entered. His smile was kind but didn't reach his eyes – he was analysing her, assessing her.
"My name is Kara, I have been assigned to this mission with Yori-senpai and Tomo-senpai," she said firmly.
"Ah, sorry, how impolite of me. Where is my head at today? I'm Yamanaka Inoichi. It's nice to meet you, Kara-chan."
Interesting. Both Yori and Tomo got the 'san' suffix, rather than chan or kun. A sign of respect towards fellow shinobi, despite their much lower rank? Did he call her chan out of disrespect (which, well, she didn't necessarily disagree with. Respect had to be earned), or was it because she looked so much younger?
"Good morning, Yamanaka-sama," Yori said, complete with a sharp, 90 degree bow, Tomo following suit quickly thereafter. Bemused, Calla watched them. She still couldn't bring herself quite to bow like that.
"Bow to Death, Calla," Voldemort had tried to order her, once upon a time, back in another world in a graveyard which had already been partially reclaimed by nature by then. The irony of who she'd become was not lost on her.
"That's the Yamanaka clan head," Tomo hissed at her under her breath and Calla finally forced herself to bow, but not as deep as her friends. She tried to ignore Yori rubbing his eyes, back upright now, and mumbling about stubborn younger sisters who wouldn't know common courtesy if it bit them in the nose.
Luckily, Yamanaka seemed more amused than anything. This was a military dictatorship; she'd managed it in front of Abe-sensei, she should be able to do it now, but the man's sharp watchful stare had made her hackles rise and, well, Calla had never claimed to be gracious or anything other than stubborn once she dug her heels in. Hermione had asked her often enough if this or that minor thing was really the hill she wanted to die on (it wasn't, by the way).
"Don't worry about it, Kara-chan," he said petting her head once, "I've told these two for years to call me Inoichi-san. But you will, won't you?"
Another fake smile, very well faked, she'd admit, but Calla knew how to read people. Well, negative emotions at least, and this Yamanaka was being condescending and treating her like a child. Which, yes, was hypocritical since she wanted children to have childhoods and be treated more like children, herself partially included, but she also wasn't going to suffer being patronised to.
So with her best sweet sugary butter-wouldn't-melt-in-my-mouth smile, locking eyes the clan head of one of the major clans in Konoha – who she just remembered could mind-read and worked in T&I – Calla said "but of course, Inoichi-san, if that's what you would like to be called, it would be rude for me not to."
Green eyes wide, head cocked sideways ever so slightly as she called him out on it and watched in satisfaction as he blinked quickly in surprise before regaining control and smiling at her, a little more genuinely this time.
"I look forward to seeing you again, next time, Kara-san."
Aha, so it had been a sign of respect. Inoichi-san patted her shoulder this time in acknowledgment before moving back behind the counter.
"Follow us, Kara-chan," Tomo said in a suspiciously high-pitched voice and Yori's arm around her shoulders was gentle but firm as he steered her through a backdoor which clearly led to an equipment room. Flowers had been gathered in a nearby bucket, presumable to be put on the graves.
"What the hell where you thinking, chibi-chan?" Yori burst out in an angry whisper.
Well, and that somehow was the start of a beautiful friendship. Not with Yamanaka, but with Yori and Tomo.
It didn't quite have the same ring as defeating a troll together, but still, they had bonded and whenever they were all available, they took missions together. She'd been to the cinema in the evening once with her friends and to a café three times. Unfortunately finding the time was hard – as was the money. Less so for Calla who could sell jewels at any point, but mainly for Yori, who, at 16, was the main earner in his household and still had to help look after his sisters when his mother went to work. But with the ability to take multiple missions a day, including C-ranks, he tended to earn more than his mother most weeks.
It had taken him longer – and a half-hour whispered discussion on the flaws in the genin corps – to talk to her like an adult – or Tomo – rather than a younger sister. Calla had, of course, made sure to only start the discussion once they were safely in the woods, gathering herbs for the hospital and she had ascertained no other souls were nearby. Tomo, on the other hand, had immediately treated her like a long-lost sister; needless to say, while Tomo may not look anything like Ginny, the spirit was definitely there, only with a gentleness Ginny hadn't yet learned to express.
Calla wasn't sure how much she trusted them yet – again, confronting a troll together told you so much about who a person was – so they hadn't been invited back home, but she had training with them (a free alternative to spending money which still allowed you to spend time together and make sure to patch up each other's weak spots).
It was great fun; Calla had never quite understood it back home, she'd only felt the one-sided brutality from Dudley and his friends, but now had discovered it was so much fun. Plus, she took great pleasure in coming back home covered in mud on the rainy days. A shower and an activation of seals – presto, clean home. But it was still satisfying to think that Aunt Petunia would've had a fit – both at the state of her coming home and the cleaning method. So, so satisfying.
But even on sunny days, she learned how to hit and kick, as well as how to take them. How to protect herself better. She learned new positions and, thanks to her last two years training with dead people, she could even contribute. Her evenings at home alone she often spent working on her runes (there was so much still to learn) and practising her hand signs.
Unfortunately, she still felt tightness and twinges from her hand. The scars from Umbridge's "detentions" had gone deep due to the frequent repetitions without any break which would have allowed it to heal. And blood quills were cursed, so they would never lessen over time. It was unfortunate as it made her hand signs clumsy on occasion and always a little bit slower than they were with her other hand.
Tomo had also told her that girls often went into the medical field, genjutsu or seduction and infiltration. The genin corps was rarely recruited from, of course, for the latter, but on occasion there was someone out there with a taste for younger children, and it was easy to grab someone from the genin corps and send them on their way with very little additional training in return for forgiving a few years debt, Tomo had explained seriously, looking disgusted.
Her team's teacher had wanted to put her into a genjutsu and young Tomo had diligently learnt 2 techniques, but that was all the training she'd received. Nevertheless, she did her best to pass it onto Calla.
Only, as it turned out, Calla was not very observant.
She should have already known that, of course.
"Didn't you see what it stood on?" Hermione had asked back in first year, looking incredulous when both Ron and Calla had confessed to being more occupied with the three slobbering, salivating, large heads with huge teeth snapping after them than on where its feet were.
She'd put an illusion up, but forget to visualise the individual leaves of grass, so it had looked, according to Yori, their willing guinea pig, more like a patch of green paint. Or she'd forget to make the clouds move, forget about focusing on people's fingers, faces or clothes and end up with rather grotesque illusions.
In the end, Tomo had advised her to become more observant and train herself – and in a few years, they could have another attempt. It definitely went against Calla's normal instincts – for anything other than potions, of course – which was to dig in and keep trying until she succeeded, but she could see the wisdom in her friend's suggestion. It would be helpful in her career, either way, to be more observant.
In addition to that, she'd been told to work on her control, so as her assigned missions never required chakra, Calla made sure to have leaves on her at all times to learn control. The trick, according to Tobirama, was to start moving them up and down her body. Then rotating them while moving along her body and increase the number as she got more proficient. If she was lucky, she was able to practise water-walking but not many missions allowed for it.
Tobirama always had excellent advice for multi-tasking and incorporating as many things as possible into working at the same time. Once upon a time, while they had been on the run, Calla had imagined becoming a healer rather than an auror.
Now she couldn't see herself in that position anymore. It wasn't just how much she had changed – or rather, it was precisely that. As Death, she could feel when people were dying… and she could stop their souls from leaving their bodies. It wouldn't be a skill anymore, but Calla would still not be able to be in more than one place at a time; so therefore, she would literally be deciding every minute of the day, who deserved to live and who deserved to die simply by virtue of her being occupied with someone else.
No, medic was not for her. And infiltration or seduction? She remembered the one time Ginny had coaxed her to try flirting. Draco, thinking it would be a right laugh, had volunteered as subject. He had been right – George had fallen off his chair, holding his stomach with cramps from laughing so hard.
Yep, seduction was not her forte – nor could she imagine it. Calla didn't know whether it was growing up around Aunt Petunia's and Uncle Vernon's old-fashioned views of where a woman's place was, the wizarding world's insistence on marrying young despite literally living for centuries and without any kind of divorce or the press putting pressure on her as last living Potter, but Calla had always imagined only having sex in monogamous relationships. The war, if anything, had made her even more reluctant to have sex for fun unless she could be certain of the other person's love and loyalty.
Shinobi had a much looser view of sex. You could generally have sex with any gender and as many people (even at the same time) as you liked, so long as it didn't affect missions, or you were a clan heir. But seduction and honey pot missions were still often populated mostly by females – the beginnings, of course, were in the kunoichi courses, which taught them gentler arts instead of fighting, placing them behind their male comrades in the amount of time they got taught how to fight.
As she was only ten years old in this world, Calla had no intention of having intercourse anytime soon, and while she felt bad for the people working in seduction, she had no intention of joining them. Despite her outrage at having children cleaning T&I, she also avoided them like the plague where she could. She'd rather do the sewer cleaning than T&I.
It was nice, and Calla was feeling a lot more positive and relaxed now that she had people she could talk to – not about everything, of course, but still – friends. Friends she could hang out with, hug, eat and fight with. Life was looking up.
Calla had even taken the time to look up more on the clans. Apparently the Uchiha, like the little adorable Itachi she'd met once, also had a Dojutsu – the Sharingan. At first puzzled (the boy she'd met had had black eyes) it turned out unlike the others, they needed to 'activate' theirs and not everyone could do so. Intriguing. What she hadn't been impressed with was the massive amount of inbreeding in any clan with dojutsu. Really, really not impressed. It was like the wizarding world and the Gaunt family all over again. Calla wasn't certain how The Uchiha and Hyuuga in particular still managed to come out looking like runway models rather than deformed people who were intellectually stunted due to their genetic anomalies.
But life was a lot more interesting now. Yori and Tomo could tell her about more interesting missions and had even taken her on a C-Rank courier mission with them. Her first – official – time outside of Konoha. Nothing had happened – to Calla's surprise, her luck usually would've jumped on the opportunity – and they had returned home without issues.
Yes, life was so much better with friends around.
Calla was just taking on her fifth mission for the day – a new one. Apparently, the Nara clan had deer and needed some specific food from half-way across town and decided to request the genin corps. According to Tomo, the lazy clan bastards couldn't be bothered to walk across town and it was a recurring mission happening every few months, she had said to her with an eyeroll and annoyed huff, before patting her on the head and wishing her luck.
While the bags would have undoubtedly been heavy and required several trips, Calla never went anywhere without her 'magic bag' or, as Dudley had once called it, her bag of holding.
"Good afternoon, Nara-san," she gave a short bow to the man leaning against the gate looking like he was half-asleep, "I am here from the genin corps to deliver the deer pellets."
Dark eyes opened slightly wider as the man assessed her curiously.
"Sorry, kid. You'll have to collect it first, from-"
"I've already got it. My bag's a … it holds more than it looks like it can hold?" Calla finished, feeling embarrassed at not remembering what Abe-sensei had glossed over and mentioned during one lesson. She only remembered thinking to herself 'Oh, it's like my bag!' but no recollection of what it had been called.
The Nara snorted in laughter.
"A seal on your bag? Kid, you've been ripped off. As soon as that bag gets damaged, edges frayed etc, that seal's damaged and you either lose everything inside of it or it all pours out at once. Either way, doesn't last as long as normal sealing scrolls," the still-unnamed Nara explained (which, rude!).
"But what if the seal itself also maintains the bag in as-new conditions and it self-repairs?" Of course, Calla had no idea how seals worked – but she knew how runes worked and rather disliked being told she would've not noticed something like that. This was Hermione's work – as if that girl genius would allow such an obvious flaw.
"Huh," the man said, eyes now open as he assessed her, even though he was still slouching against the gate, Calla was well aware that she had now gotten his complete attention. "What did you say your name was again, kid?"
"I didn't," Calla started, but she was well aware of the power imbalance in this world and there was no need to start antagonising people all the time, especially helpful ones, so she elaborated before the man could do more than grin wryly at her sass, "but it's Kara."
The Nara raised an eyebrow as if he recognised her, looking at her again, before smiling widely and nodding at her as if acknowledging a worthy opponent. Yep, clan people were weird, Calla decided.
"Name's Kiyoshi, call me Kiyoshi-san, everything else would be too troublesome."
Oookay… this was the second time clan people offered her first name – and not children, adults. Weird.
"Alright, Kiyoshi-san. So where do I deliver the deer pellets to?"
"Mah, just straight down the path, first house on the right is our clan head's. The wife, Yoshino-san, should be home. You can also just follow the screaming."
The what…? Bemused, Calla paused for another second before stepping past the weird gate guard, having hoped he would elaborate on his rather weird advice, but no such luck.
Although it proved to be rather self-explanatory when she heard a child screaming. Yikes.
The door was ripped open before she could even knock.
"Oh, finally! You should have been here half an hour ago! Now I'm running late. You really need to take your missions more seriously, chibi-chan," the woman continued rapidly with nary a glance in her direction.
"The instructions are on the table and my husband will be here later tonight and let you go home. Follow the instructions and-" the woman finally made eye contact, eyes sharp and body language threatening "if there is even a hair on his head missing, I will make a visit to T&I look like a vacation. Are we clear?"
"Yes, Nara-sama," Calla responded quickly, blinking, and feeling at a complete loss but having responded on instinct. Snape would have laughed – but apparently she could be taught. And so well too, Calla hadn't even noticed she'd be programmed to respond with yes to orders being snapped at her. Huh.
She should clear that up.
"Uh-" Before Calla could get another word out to correct the misunderstanding, something was pressed into her hands and only her familiarity of taking care of little Teddy had her automatically adjusting her arms to hold the toddler correctly before she could even process.
"Not. A. Hair." The scary woman emphasised again, before leaving at a rapid pace, leaving Calla behind.
Okay… so hopefully she wouldn't be accused of kidnapping as long as she stayed here. Maybe the instructions would be helpful too.
So… don't let him sleep all afternoon. Food in fridge. Make sure Shikamaru doesn't get hurt and entertain him. Wait until father comes home and tells you you can leave.
Alright. This wasn't so difficult, no different than with Teddy. Maybe the real genin who had obviously been hired and were supposed to be here would turn up. And if not, it wasn't like she had any other plans or missions today.
"Okay sweetheart," Calla said quietly as the child's screams had subsided momentarily, ruffled by the rapid change in caretakers, "let's have a wee look and see what's awry with you, okay honey?"
He was adorable, thick dark hair and dark eyes but face pulled into a grimace. Pain? Upset?
Calla walked over to the nearest couch and put the child between cushions to stabilise him. The child was over half her height and it had been rather difficult trying to balance him on her hip.
"Aww, you're adorable, aren't you?" With a quick stroke to his cheek, she distracted him from her other hand – and the golden coloured spell she shot at him to find out why he had been crying so insistently.
"Are you a little momma's boy? Didn't want here to go away? Don't worry, she'll be back right quick, I'm sure."
The woman hadn't worn any kind of shinobi outfit, so presumably had just wanted a night away, so Calla felt safe in promising his mother would return home safely. A career as a shinobi was not, after all, without its risks. What was surprising, though, was that any genin team or their jonin would neglect a clan head's babysitting mission either entirely or be this late.
Okay, the spell told her little Shikamaru was at a healthy weight, a bit lacking in sleep, very active brain, had just been fed recently and was teething. No wonder he'd started up again when she brushed against his cheek.
"Oh no, that must be so uncomfortable. My godson, Tedi, he hated teething too. Do you know what I got for him? I think it's still in my bag. Give me a mo, you'll feel better in no time."
There may be a lot of things in the Muggle world which the Wizarding world just lacked – but this was something which Calla wasn't sure she would've survived babysitting without. It was a small wolf (how could she possibly buy the son of Remus Lupin anything else) which soothed and cooled the aching gum and anesthetised slightly with magic.
It was the only reason Teddy had slept through the night when he was two. At first, she'd just asked Hermione and her friend had directed her to the Muggle world and Calla had followed, as she always did. And then one morning Ron had come to get her as she was late for work only to find her crying on the floor holding Teddy in her arms who was sobbing just as hard.
At first, he'd panicked and asked whether they needed St Mungos. Once she'd explained, he'd called her and Hermione stupid and said there was a magic toy for it and how could they not have known. And Calla may, possibly have made the redhead slightly uncomfortable as she had thanked Ron every time she'd seen him for two weeks straight until he'd told her to call it quits. But she thought he probably knew just how desperate she'd been given that she'd rarely been driven to tears even in the fight against Voldemort. Rarely had she ever felt quite so exhausted, even when they had been on the run.
And they had to make do without it in this world. Poor shinobi.
Focussing on the toy, she turned it into a deer for the child and used her magic to sterilise it before passing it over.
To her satisfaction, it worked just as well now as it had then. While initially reluctant, the moment his gum made contact with the toy, the clan heir stopped screaming and grabbed onto the toy with both hands, eyes wide.
"There you go, little Shika," Calla hummed with a pleased smile, stroking his hair gently, "isn't that so much better?"
The toddler really was adorable. Teddy had been two when he'd started teething, Calla presumed Shikamaru was probably somewhere around that age too, although he was definitely a little bit taller.
Now that the toddler was calm and settled, Calla wondered if the deer needed to be fed. She had gotten the food but the clan wife had walked away before she could hand it over. This was a forest right there, so they were probably alright, right? They could feed themselves, surely… but then why the food in the first place?
With a quick spell on the couch – still no souls in the vicinity, good – to stop Shikamaru from climbing or rolling off and alerting her if he tried it, Calla turned her back to him and reached back into her bag, pulling out one bag of feed after another until she had the five bags carefully leaning against each other.
Hesitating slightly, unsure of what she should do at this point, Calla finally decided and turned back to Shikamaru. Another spell to make him lighter, she put him on her hip (his head could rest on her head, Calla was sure, if he wasn't curling up and around her) before walking towards the back of the house. Opening the sliding door, she pulled forth one of the bags. Glancing at the forest, she could already see the glinting eyes of the animals looking back at her. The sun was going down. Alright. Calla could do this. She'd met centaurs and flesh-eating horses, sphinxes and everything in between. Innocent little deer were nothing when compared to all that.
Calla settled a warming spell around Shikamaru's body – it had only been half an hour and his father wasn't expected back for hours, so she needed to get her mission done as she was sure a clan too lazy to walk across town could not be bothered with feeding the deer either. What had Kiyoshi said earlier? Oh, yes, too troublesome.
"Alright, look here, sweetheart," the little boy was adorable and definitely interested as he peeked at where her fingers pointed, still chewing on the toy, slobber running down his chin. She wiped the drool away gently with one hand before carefully settling herself down a foot away from the forest edge and spread some of the pellets on the ground and left some in her hand.
The first deer looked out almost immediately, nose to the ground, sniffing, but not coming closer.
Shikamaru's eyes were wide open now and the hand with the toy had dropped down as he stared. Calla felt her heart melting and pressed a gentle kiss to his head.
Yep, not allowed to die. Ever. Too cute for this world with his dark eyes and hair and chubby cheeks reddening with excitement.
Finally, a stag stepped forward, eyes not on the pellets but on her. Calla wondered vaguely whether animals could tell who she was but knew she'd likely never know. Her hand was still outstretched allowing the majestic animal to take in her scent. A moment later Calla watched as the stag bowed his head to her.
Huh, so maybe they could tell after all.
The deer now came out too, the stag's bow a sign for them. And then followed a few fawn.
"Aww, look Shika, more little Shika's," Calla giggled to herself watching as the little toddler's face pulled into an adorable pout. Pressing in his cheeks, she watched as he deflated slightly before pulling his big eyes out on her.
"Alright, alright, I was going to introduce you anyway momentarily," Calla said, stroking the hairs away from his face before taking his palm into hers.
"Look, darling, here's how you hold this," she instructed, straightening his fingers into a flat palm, "that way the deer can take it gently from you without hurting you. Now let's say hi to the big one with the horns first, okay, sweetheart?"
Ears swivelling, the stag looked at them, but approached again readily enough after a moment.
"See? He's like the daddy watching over all his loved ones. So you say hi to him first, so he can make sure you're a good person and then you can say hi to the moms. And if they both say it's okay you can maybe touch a baby deer, a little fawn, like you."
"How does it say okay?" Shikamaru looked up at her with wide eyes and Calla couldn't help but smile at him. He looked like she could somehow speak deer and teach it to him.
"It's all in the body language. Here, I'll show you," Calla put a pellet into Shikamaru's hand and held it securely in her own, stretching it out towards the stag slowly approaching them.
She watched with eagle eyes, but the stag just used his lips to gently gather the pellet before finally eating it.
"Hi," Shikamaru said, voice breathless as he stared at the deer, "I'm named after you. I'm Shikamaru."
So, so adorable, Calla smiled, placing another gentle kiss on his head. She was getting attached way too quickly, she admitted with a wry smile.
The stag snorted and brushed his nose gently against Shikamaru's forehead (the boy nearly went cross-eyed).
"There, see? That's his approval. Now let's see if the mom says it's okay, too. Sometimes we touch things when they're too young see, and we just try to help, but the mom may not recognise her baby under the human smell. See, we go by sight – we point and look for body language and signs, whereas many animals go by smells. So always make sure it's okay to touch the animal, alright, honey?" Or the only choice, not that she would tell him that.
The introduction to the deer went smoothly as well, luckily. And Shikamaru got to pet a fawn until he started yawning.
"Alright, time for little princes to go to bed."
"No," came the rather firm denial as lips got pressed together and the toddler widened his eyes to make himself look more awake.
"Hm, alright, but it's such a shame. I had this beautiful story all picked out," Calla drawled in a mock-wondering tone, tapping her chin. "I guess I'll have to find some other little boy to tell it to."
The toddler turned away from the fawn to face her.
"You're mani-manipu… you're tricking me!" Shikamaru sounded so outraged, Calla laughed and rubbed her nose against gently.
"The question is, is it working?"
This time he fell in a full-on pout even as he nodded.
"Look, honey, they're in the forest right behind your house, you can see them anytime. And they'll look out for you," the unspoken won't they was directed at the stag, who bowed his head again in her direction.
Calla really hoped some sort of communication had been achieved here, rather than them just bowing to Death all the time. Maintaining her hold on Shikamaru and standing up was a rather interesting endeavour, but thanks to her weightless charm not quite so difficult. Although there was a rather interesting cognitive dissonance with how her body automatically braced itself for the counterweight of Shikamaru pulling her forward only for it to not happen.
Humming one of the songs she remembered from muggle radio, Calla swept herself clean and then walked back into the kitchen.
"Alright, food, let's see here," with a wave of her hand, hidden behind the fridge door, the food was warm as she passed it to Shikamaru.
"Now, can you feed yourself?" Calla suspected the answer was yes, given the toddler-sized cutlery Shikamaru handed her as he denied being able to, but she didn't really mind feeding him. In short succession, she found herself making animal noises and little tricks to get him to open his mouth and eat.
The genin helped the little clan heir get washed (the bath, for all his lethargy, involved a large amount of splashing and a lot of bubbles), dried (which may or may not have involved some spells to dry his hair quicker – Calla would never tell) and into clean pyjamas before tucking him into bed. She should gift him with a smaller version of her deer onesie, Calla thought, he'd love it.
"Hm, I promised a story, didn't I?"
Well done, Calla, now what. What's a child appropriate story? All the wizarding stories seemed a little screwed up. And she didn't really want to implant something in his head about princesses needing to be rescued a la prince charming and Cinderella; Mulan, maybe? Oh, no, of course. A little boy, enamored with his deer. Pokemon was perfect.
"There are other worlds out there and in one of those worlds, there was a little boy called Ash and he befriended his pokemon Pikachu. What's a pokemon, you ask? Well, little fawn," Calla tapped Shikamaru's nose and watched him silently absorb everything. With another scan to make sure there was no soul nearby, she used magic to project an image of Pikachu in front of them in mid-air, entirely amused at the toddler's amazed gasp. If he told others, she could always explain it as a genjutsu. As long as they didn't talk to Tomo, that is. But fooling a shinobi would've been that much harder.
Shikamaru was blinking more and more, clearly trying to force himself awake when he was too tired to stay awake.
"Night, night, little fawn, sweet dreams and sleep well," Calla whispered as she kissed his forehead again, gently stroking across his head, making sure the teething toy was tight within his grasp. She hoped no one would ask her to explain how it worked or she would have to get inventive. Another slow blink and what looked like a question building, but then he dropped off.
Alright. The standard baby alarm ward set was still as familiar as it had been a few years ago; it let the parent know if the child had nightmares or was about to climb out of bed. It stopped accidental falls, but allowed for midnight-toilet runs as needed.
A soul barely blipped on her radar, before there was a knife at her throat and her body immobilised.
"Who are you and why are you in my house?" The voice was cold and dark, male. Probably the father, Calla presumed, but a part of her was panicking, sweat beading on her forehead and magic getting agitated.
She noticed a split behind her – a clone? It didn't have a soul, so not another person – and a person, or a reasonable facsimile of one, walked up to Shikamaru's bedroom.
"I am in the genin corps, Nara-sama, and there was a miscommunication with your wife when she left your son in my hands."
Another pause before the knife around her neck suddenly relaxed and the hold on her slackened and she had just enough wherewithal to notice shadows running down her leg like blank ink before dissipating back into the night. Wow, okay, so that was the famous Nara jutsu.
"Explain," the voice was still hard, but the man had turned the light back on for her (given his use of shadows, she doubted that he needed it).
Well, not like he hadn't already proven he could get to her. Sitting down in a seiza on the floor, legs still shaking from the rush of adrenaline, Calla got her first glimpse of her attacker.
And her first crush in this life.
It turned out her taste in men had followed her into the next life. Literally.
The man had black hair tied up at the top of his head spreading out into a messy… pineapple? Shape. Yep. Definitely a pineapple shape, wow. That was new. He had two scars, one across his forehead and one finishing short of his eye, he was lean but well-muscled, tall and threatening.
And this was definitely her first taste of hormones.
This could not be more embarrassing.
Flustered, Calla looked at the floor.
"Ah, well, see, the, erm, the genin corps has a mission board and, well, I picked the mission to deliver deer pellets," here she pointed at the evidence stacked against the wall by the backdoor.
"And Kiyoshi-san let me in and directed me here. Only, ah, your wife, Nara-sama," the man raised an eyebrow and, wow, hot! Calla had never had time to learn about how to behave around a crush, and she was sure the clan head could tell, but she was half-certain her heart literally just skipped a beat when he put his entire focus on her.
"She, ah, she told me about being late and said there was a list in the kitchen? And, well, then I had Shika- I mean, Shikamaru-kun in my arms and she was gone. I – I did deliver the pellets though. So, ah, if you could, em, sign?" Calla pointed to the delivery slip she'd left on the kitchen table and watched as the Nara clan head looked it over, his wife's note on the kitchen table, the eaten food and child-sized cutlery (Calla would've cleaned up, really, she'd just prioritised his bath and bed and the father had come home sooner than expected).
When he inspected the bags, he turned back to her, stating "this one has been opened," and clearly expecting an answer.
"Oh, erm, yes. I wasn't sure but I didn't want the deer to go hungry, so we feed them."
God, her heart really couldn't survive under his scrutiny. It was too much, his focus too intense. Was there even any blood left in the rest of her body?
"We?"
"Shikamaru and I, Nara-sama," Calla explained.
"You," he pointed at her, second eyebrow joining the first, "went out to the forest with my son," he paused again, analysing her facial expressions – Calla wished she knew what he was looking for, "and fed the deer?"
A pause. He was clearly expecting an answer.
"…Yes? I am sorry, I wasn't sure. I'll repay what we used, Nara-sama," she hastily offered, hoping he would either explain what bothered him or maybe turn his focus elsewhere. Is this maybe what others felt under killing intent?
The man waved away her offer as if it was too bothersome, eyes still on her, before he finally turned away after an additional moment of scrutiny. Calla released a shallow breath, not willing to incur his attention again. Wow, so intense. Snape could have learnt a lesson or ten from this man. If he'd asked her to, Calla would have told him nearly everything. Certainly, pretty much anything in this new life of hers. His wife was so, so lucky.
"Name's Shikaku-san, not Nara-sama. Thank you for taking care of Shikamaru, even though you hadn't been assigned the mission."
"Oh, not to worry, your son was a delight. He is adorable and very clever, you should be proud," Calla stated, slowly standing up again, hoping he'd sign the delivery paper so she could be on her way.
Hell, at this point she'd rather have a failed mission on her record than be interrogated further.
Only then Shikaku-san smiled as he offered his thanks, a wry smile pulling at the scars on his right side and suddenly Calla was struck breathless at the sight of this handsome man and slight whimper escaped as she sank back into the ground, giving in. Yep, such a big, big crush.
And yep, there it was, real amusement sparkling in his dark (and oh so lovely) eyes, as he looked at her. He had definitely noticed. She wondered how many little aspiring kunoichi had developed puppy crushes on this man.
"I should probably explain," Shikaku offered. Calla would've told him it wasn't necessary, if she wasn't so transfixed and robbed of all her words – or use of her mouth for anything that wasn't expressing her complete and utter admiration for this perfect specimen in front of her, that is.
"Our usual babysitter was late on a mission and I was supposed to put in a mission request," here he rubbed the back of his neck uncomfortably, "and I forgot once I focussed on work. And, well, as soon as I remembered, I rushed here, but it looked like you had it all in hand, Kara-chan," Shikaku drew out her name with barely-hidden amusement.
Calla had no time to wonder why he thought her name funny as the blood rushed right back into her head, eyes wide. Wow, her name had never sounded so perfect before. She'd even forgive Shikaku for looking even more amused at whatever expression she was making in her daze. Even his voice was perfect! How could that be?
"I'll organise the mission pay for both for you tomorrow. Thanks for staying late, go home now, genin-san," Shikaku ordered – and there was no mistaking that tone. He didn't even need to say dismissed, his tone implied it. It wasn't curt or anything, but Calla found the energy to bow – her deepest one yet – and then thanked him and excused herself.
It was only half-way to the gate she realised that she'd just thanked the man who had, not ten minutes earlier, held a knife to her neck.
What a mess. And she hadn't had the chance to dissipate the baby alarm around Shikamaru's bed either. No one here would notice, but she'd keep getting alerts. Great.
Hopefully some day she'd be invited back in (when it wouldn't be so embarrassing anymore, she hoped) and then could get rid of the ward.
Having friends sucked. Neither of them had told her of any of these shenanigans or threats and if she told either of them on her crush, Tomo would laugh herself silly and make stupid open allusions to it while Yori would tell her that she was too young for Nara. It wasn't like she was stupid, Calla was well aware of that. She had no aspirations of being a homewrecker and Shikamaru deserved his mom and his dad; but hormones didn't really rely on logic or whether they were suitable for her age.
Shinobi life was hard. Calla hoped she wouldn't end up with a failed mission on record; it guaranteed you crappy missions and even more reluctance to allow you on higher ranked missions. Plus no one would want to team up with you.
But adorable toddlers kind of made it all okay again. Somewhere out here in Konoha was a blonde-haired blue eyed toddler being put to sleep with a kiss and being raised on tales of his Hokage-father and his Princess-mother. She wondered how old he'd be before she'd get to meet little Naruto-chan. Calla was looking forward to it. Two parents that pretty were bound to make a most adorable child.
Yes, Calla decided, as she slumped into her home after a fourteen-hour day, looking forward to having some dinner. She'd been hungry even before fetching the deer pellets but had thought she'd be home soon. This was another sign that she really needed to work on taking food with her in her bag – preferably some which didn't go off easily.
More problems for tomorrow-Calla. Tonight-Calla needed to forget all about handsome men way out of her age and availability range and concentrate on food and sleep, in that order. And maybe a bath to get rid of baby slobber. Toddler slobber? Either way, bodily fluids which did not belong there. Ick.
Notes: Okay, so just making it clear again - this will not be a Shikaku/calla fanfic. It's just puppy love.
As for voting - it's ongoing. Vote as often as you like:
Calla/Shisui: 13
Calla/Itachi:31
Calla/Kakashi: 32.
Somehow Kakashi managed to get ahead of Itachi again :)
Anyway,it's 4 am and I've been writing solidly since last night to ... well write this all.
I should probably mention that I had no intention of involving any Yamanaka or Nara in this and Shikamaru was going to be introduced later. She wasn't even going to meet Shikaku until much later. The hokage-ghosts also weren't meant to turn up.
Suffice to say, this chapter kind of wrote itself. Hope you enjoy it.