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"Whenever you get something, you lose something too!" Mom shouted shaping rice balls next to the sink. The water was running, slowly filling up a pot and she used her wrist to turn it off, keeping her hands extremely clean.
"This isn't such a bad thing Noa," dad sipped coffee out of his favorite mug. It was green and black with the motif of leaves. The Will of Fire ran strong in him as it did in most loyal ninjas. "Working at the hospital more means I'll be home more."
She shot him a look of pure disbelief. Despite being a civilian, mom was quite knowledgeable in the invisible forces behind the shinobi world. Perhaps it's what made her so suspicious whenever good fortune struck. As if there was a metaphysical scale readying to tip things back into balance, so whenever something good happens something bad is bound to happen too.
"It pays better," he added a tad too innocent. "You know, it would make it easier to save for the house."
The house, he had said it as if it were a certain thing like it already existed. To him, I'm sure it did. But for mom一 mom who became superstitious over a promotion, this was not the case.
"Whatever, do whatever you want." Then more bitterly. "You always have."
Rin peered over the couch, resting her head along the back edge.
"That's a little unfair," he lifted his cup testing its weight. Then turned around and saw Rin watching. The purple marks across his cheeks scrunched upwards as he smiled. "Rin! Sachie!" He called out endearingly. "Mommy's in a bad mood, so let's not bother her right now, ok?"
Rin nodded quickly. Mom gave him a look as if to say 'now who's being unfair'. And I got up and went to the bathroom, the conversation becoming less antagonistic in another room.
Fair, I thought, turning on the sink. How funny. Since when has being fair had anything to do with it?
The soap I had been using to wash my hands slipped out of my grasp, falling onto the floor, and I noticed for the first time how on edge I was. I held my arms, outstretched一 they were shaking.
Overhead, the bathroom light was dim and yellow and buzzed irregularly. It's electricity, I realized slowly, like a weak voltage broken up by the flicking circuits. As this occurred a feeling of deja vu gripped my heart.
Chidori. It came to me, the buzzing sounded a little like Chidori, a thousand chirping birds.
"Knock! Knock!" Rin called noisily from the living room. "Come out! Ok? let's go play outside!"
Stepping off the rug, the coldness of the tile cut into my feet like knives.
"Stop being so bossy," I called from my side of the door. "I'll be out in a minute!"
I turned off the light, and in the darkness, the buzzing stopped.
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Rin and I are fraternal twins and share in the same likeness as any regular siblings. That being said, we were still a little different from normal siblings. For instance, there was never a time where one of us physically existed without the other. That does something to how you're raised, it can't be helped.
Of course, I couldn't remember how things happened in the very beginning. Thinking back, my first memories started forming when I was two or three. Like the time we had visited the Akimichi conservatory and a blue butterfly landed right on my finger, its wings opening and closing, lulling me to sleep. Or even mundane, everyday things like wrapping dumpling skins in the kitchen. Wetting our fingertips in water before pinching the folds. Putting too much filling in them sometimes and having them burst in the pot. Images like this filled my heart with a protecting warmth. Making me momentarily forget about everything else.
And then there were scenes that struck a chord within me. Vaguely, I recalled going to the park one afternoon with Rin. We sat on the swings not yet knowing how to propel ourselves forward. Then a kid who was maybe five or six shoved her off her swing. What happened next I can only describe as like a baby duckling taking some object for its mother. Rin hugged him because this is how we always made-up with mom or dad when they were mad at us. It was an unconscious conditioning, one that I had missed, but for Rin, who was truly just a toddler, who still only knew very little of the world一 it was the natural thing to do.
It was such an honest reaction that I didn't know what to do. Then our parents saw and took us home and the moment was broken. But it stayed with me, and now I stared up at the watermarks on the ceiling of our bedroom, thinking about it and many other things. It was almost like recalling a movie, not every detail was clear but certain scenes were embedded in the depths of my soul, those were the kinds of memories that last forever.
However, the only movie I could recall now was Totoro. By now I had forgotten almost everything about it, except that it was about two sisters meeting the spirits living near their house while their mom is away at the hospital. There was only one scene I remembered in perfect clarity. Where the sisters wait at the bus stop, the older girl carrying her younger sister on her back. It's raining, she holds an umbrella, but it's awkward with the extra weight. As they wait the long black country road travels forever to some unknown vanishing point. It is dark and cold and builds that fear you may get while waiting, that fear that what you're waiting for may never show up. Then Totoro appears, raindrops fall on his nose, the bus arrives, but it's a cat just in the shape of a bus. Its huge yellow eyes light up like headlights, and even from very far away, you can see it coming. Seeing the cat-bus appear out of nowhere felt like pure relief, I'd wanted to laugh and cry at the same time even if I was still a little scared. And that's it... To laugh at what scares you, to hug your enemies; you only have that kind of innocence once, and then it's gone forever.
That's one thing that was fundamentally different about Rin and me.
Our shared futon weighed heavily on my chest after thinking about this. Every once in a while the neighbors would move around upstairs and everything would tremble before settling back down. These little distractions were comforting to me. Even when I was trying to go to sleep, the sounds of people around me kept the most obsessive thoughts from welling up inside my head.
Throughout our room pale moonlight shone in streaks, flinting through the blinds. On the opposite wall to our bed, we had those kinds of wall stickers in the shapes of stars. They glowed in the dark. Beside me Rin shifted, Nyanko, her stuffed cat was lovingly tucked beneath an arm.
"What's going on?" She asked, seeing that I was awake.
"The Mister and Missus just got home," I explained.
She pulled the blanket down a bit, listening closely to the mumbles overhead. Sometimes we liked to guess what they were saying. And made up all kinds of stories about what was going on in their lives. Most recently we had decided that they were vampires and the neighbors who had just moved out were their last victims. Despite believing this, we felt oddly at peace living beneath them.
"I hope they go after the Okada's next," she whispered mischievously. The Okada's lived beneath us and complained to our parents whenever they thought we were too loud.
I just prayed that they didn't start going at it. It was rare for both of them to be home at the same time. Usually, it was just the Mister. Sometimes we'd see him out on his balcony smoking or tending to the garden boxes. But very late at night both of them would always be home, it was one of the reasons Rin and I would talk at night too. Listening to their voices, even if we couldn't understand what they were saying, it always seemed like they were talking about something interesting. At least something more interesting than anything four-year-olds would be discussing.
"Sachie," Rin broke my thoughts. "Why was mom so mad at dad for wanting to get a house? Doesn't she want to move out of here too?"
I took a moment to gather my thoughts. Concentrating on the water spots and thin cracks peeling up the paint.
"It's not that she doesn't want a house…" I was frankly a little surprised Rin had picked up so much in the first place. "It's just that we can't get one right now."
"Why?"
Because we're poor, I swallowed a laugh. "Don't you think it's better to wait for a while? That way when we do get a house it will have everything we want, like a backyard, and a tree, or even a skylight."
"What's a skylight?" she asked.
"It's like a window, but in the ceiling." I pointed towards the stars on the opposite wall. "Instead of those, we'll have real stars in our house. It would be very sophisticated."
"Sophisticated?"
"Like refined, and stylish."
It was quiet for a moment.
"And," she hugged Nyanko tighter. "And what kind of tree will we have Sachie?"
"Oh, a useful one," I said thoughtfully. "Like a peach tree that we can harvest peaches from."
I had never seen a peach tree in my life, but it sounded nice enough.
"Tell me again what it will be like."
"Okay," I agreed, the thoughts from before dwindled. We talked about this for a long time, maybe above us the neighbors were listening in; maybe they too were imagining what we were saying. My face easily slipped into a smile or a laugh when it was called for, or continuous little nods when we agreed on something. Here's what we agreed on; Someday, the two of us would live in a house with a peach tree and a skylight, or nothing at all.
Knowing what I knew, I couldn't help but feel as if it were an empty promise, even as we locked pinkies under the covers and whispered to one another "goodnight!"
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From time to time we tell ourselves little lies to get through the day. 'I'll do that tomorrow, it's not that important' or 'we'll get in touch again, don't be so sad.' Things like this so you don't feel so bad about your mistakes. I was always particularly good at this, and at putting away emotions from ordinary grievances. I suppose it's why I hadn't had any major breakdowns regarding my impossible reincarnation. As long as I didn't think about it for too long, I could almost pretend I was normal and had no idea about the future.
But every so often something would pull me out of my denial and force me to come face to face with reality.
"Hey," a gleam of white shrouded my vision. "There's a book signing going on."
Mom stopped walking, a grocery bag slung heavily over her shoulder. "So what?" She snapped impatiently. "Let's get going."
There was a big sign draped across the window which read "Debut of The Tale of the Utterly Gutsy Shinobi".
No way, I thought. It can't be...could it? The idea of Jiraiya, one of the Sannin, being right beyond that door was too much.
"Wait," I made up my mind before I could properly think it through. "Can we check it out?"
Mom glanced at the storefront again, the corner of her mouth twitched downwards. But I relaxed a little, hopeful at how she hadn't immediately said no.
I shoot Rin a look, automatically coaxing her to my side. "Yeah, can we go?" She chirped "Please mom! Please!"
"OK, ok" she opened up her wallet and doled out part of our allowance. "I'll wait outside at the stall across the street."
She gestured to what looked like a small izakaya. If there was one thing mom really let herself be a glutton about it was alcohol. She made a big deal about pretending she wasn't fond of the stuff, but every once in a while I'd catch her sipping sake with a truly sublime expression.
For now, I didn't pay attention and took Rin's hand opening the door with the whole of my forearm. It was heavy and had a bell attached to the top that tinged sharply, sputtering as it thudded close once more. The floor was soft, carpeted. I hadn't seen carpet in forever. Our entire apartment was hardwood, only our kitchenette differed with the more traditional tatami mats. The carpet here was short and incredibly dirty but it amazed me just the same.
Rin was much more amazed by the huge bookcases, each nearly touching the ceiling and organized into long lines. The hundreds, perhaps thousands, of multicolored covers brightening up the room with a special brilliance. Shiny plastic covers, and textured condensed cardboard. I happily ran my fingers down the spines, taking a deep inhale of the smell of mildew and old paper. It was all remarkably familiar. For how much I noticed how different the world was, I rarely ever took care to observe the similarities. Now, the bookstore brought the past back to me in a way that wasn't painful. Then I saw Jiraiya.
He sat behind a simple wooden table, copies of his book stacked against its surface. I was momentarily stunned that the place wasn't absolutely packed. It only came back to mind now, seeing him sitting all alone, that his first book had actually sold quite poorly. Realizing this I suddenly became nervous. If there had been lots of people around I wouldn't have stood out much, but with just Rin and I...
Well, with just Rin and me the fact that he was a sannin was really starting to settle in.
Com'on, I pumped myself up, com'on just don't think about it; trooping forward with Rin trailing slightly behind me, she was still a little shy of adults.
Jiraiya looked up as we approached. Compared to the last time I'd seen him on screen he looked like a teen, but I knew he had to be somewhere in his twenties. By now I guess he had expected no one to come. Maybe he thought we were confused or looking for help with something.
"Hi," I started. "We want to buy a signed copy."
"Listen kids…" he trailed off, examining us a little peculiarly. Probably wondering why two kids out of everybody else who passed today would stop in to buy his book. But then again why not? "I'm done signing today."
"Oh... can't we still buy the book?" Distantly, I had the feeling that this was what it was about. Of course, I couldn't know what was going on through his head, but I was pretty sure he thought we were here just for the signing and had no real interest in actually reading what he wrote.
"No, the event's already finished."
Right, I thought, no one came to his book signing in canon. Maybe we should just leave then. It was an attractive idea. He didn't even look sad, but more like closed off. Which, in a way, was worse. It's not like he'll give up on writing if we leave, I knew because he'd go on to write icha-icha paradise. Still, it didn't feel right to just walk away.
I gazed at the ground and sniffled. Rin stared up at me with her big brown eyes, not quite getting what I was doing but being a good sport about it all.
"Hey now! Don't start crying!" He peered over the table and I bashfully covered my eyes with my forearm.
"W-why won't you sell to us?" I forced a stutter.
"Well一well because it's on the house!" He picked up a copy scribbling his signature on the inside cover before thrusting it into my hands.
"Free? Really?" I stared at it as if it were about to disappear. It was always incredibly touching whenever someone gave me something for free.
"Yeah," he agreed. "Everyone who came here today got a signed copy for free, that's why it's so cleared out right now. You should have seen it earlier! People were camping outside! You're lucky I have any copies left!"
I tried not to gaze too heavily at all the copies on the table but nodded anyway. Even if he was lying I couldn't help but have a good opinion of him.
"Thank you!" Rin and I gave a short bow, grinning. He said something like "swindling brats" as we turned to leave. With our backs to him, I felt some of my nervousness return. Hesitantly as if not quite sure why it was there in the first place. Then, at the door, I took one more peek at him. Jiraiya, resting his chin on his hand, his expression lighter than before. It was one of those faces that just makes you want to smile and I felt as if I was violating some social code witnessing this earnestness. Yet I couldn't look away. Knowing I had changed things, even just a little, was both terrifying and exhilarating. I had willingly crossed into invisible territory. I couldn't take that back.
Then the door closed behind us, and I couldn't see anything anymore.
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That night dad read The Tale of the Utterly Gutsy Shinobi. I listened carefully with the blankets drawn up to my chin. At its essence, it was a hero story, where the character "Naruto" went on to defeat one extremely evil shinobi. A lot like the future Naruto's battle with Pain. I could see why it wouldn't sell well. It was short and idealistic. Right now, on the cusp of the third-shinobi-war people didn't want to read books about peace, even dad would sometimes stumble on the words wondering if what he just spoke aloud was really written down. Its straightforwardness baffled him.
Dad wasn't the kind of shinobi who had deep personal beliefs. If asked, he'd reply jokingly that he was "one of a kind." But on somber and serious nights, perhaps after witnessing the death of a friend, he'd say: "you can only make the best of what you have, that's all anybody can do." When he spoke like this I was reminded of Atticus Finch as he told his daughter, Scout, that "most people are good".
Dad didn't find suffering ennobling. He didn't believe witnessing death made you suddenly enlightened or taught you some powerful lesson. I found this attitude pretty gallant. But then again, things like death have the ability to bring out moments that mean so much more than everyday life.
And it's true. As much as I inherited my mother's melodramatics, I'd also inherited my father's purpose in life. To make the best of what I had. But sometimes一sometimes there was just that something a little extra that set me apart from all of this.
Dad came to a certain line and I felt my heart convulse.
"Give up trying to make me give up…"
I closed my eyes, the memory of my life hit me so vividly that I could hardly stand it, and those same emotions began to well up inside me from when I read Naruto for the very first time.
Never give up.
This is the ugly secret. That all I wanted to do was give up. There is no denying that tomorrow will come, and the day after tomorrow, and so next week too. And eventually, someday, that day would come. The day where Rin dies.
I choked. My heart thumping in my throat and I pressed the heels of my palms heavily against my eyes.
"Sachie?" Dad stopped reading. "Sachie? Are you alright?"
No, a million times no. I'm the furthest thing away from alright. And yet, the concern in his voice stifled me. The truth was whenever I tried to get angry about things, and there was a lot to be angry about, the fate of Rin was always so much worse, and so much more unfair than even my own predicament that my anger would always fall into a deeper and more enduring sadness.
As much as I wanted to give up; as much as I wanted to disappear, I knew I couldn't. Even if magically given the option to leave, I would no longer take it. A year ago definitely, perhaps even half a year ago. But during this timeframe, something had been building up inside me. It couldn't be helped.
"You just did the voices really good dad," I told him, keeping my hands over my eyes. I vowed not to cry. Don't start crying, don't you dare. Because if I did I knew I wouldn't be able to stop.
I didn't pay attention to what was said afterward. At some point, the lights were turned off, and it got very dark. Even the stars outside seemed to dim as the night plunged into the deepest hours. I heard the neighbors come home upstairs, they started mumbling something. For once I wished they'd shut up. But even if they did there were still the sounds of the wind outside, or the crickets, and the occasional bark of a dog. Life continued around me, irrespective of my circumstance.
"Sachie," Rin whispered. Guiltily I knew she had been awake this whole time, stunned by my outburst. "Don't be so sad. It was just a story, okay?"
And she was right. It was just a story. Life with Rin was so much more real than I could begin to recount.
"Ok," I said. "Ok."
Whenever you get something you lose something too. The thought set in bitterly, yet there was a light shining at the end of the road. A light that shined so strong it blinded me before I really had the chance to know what it was. And when it came down to it, when nights like these held close and memories of the past flashed before my eyes一 I knew letting her die had never been an option.
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"Rin, let's go."
"Wait!" She hugged our forums to her chest, her brows drawing downwards in a mixture of confusion and empathy. "That boy over there…"
Obito Uchiha stood on his own behind the crowd of children.
"...He got here late," Rin glanced to the table where a single admission folder had been disregarded.
"Rin we're going to be late too if we don't hurry!" I tried to keep any emotion from entering my voice, but the look she sent me afterward showed I had failed. I wondered, briefly, what she thought I was upset about. It would be impossible for her to guess the truth, the truth of how much he terrified me.
"Ok," she agreed eventually. Taking my hand and looking away. "Let's hurry then!"
A warm spring breeze rolled over our shoulders as we headed inside the academy, for the very first time. White somei yoshino, cherry petals fell around us like snow. I turned around, just once more, but the spot where Obito had been was already empty.
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Edit: 1/31/2021