My dear patient readers! It took longer to update than I thought - had some difficulties with this. On another note, my finals are over, hooray! I think they went well enough.

By the way, if you want to know the progress of future chapters, have a look at my tumblr blog. I'll post info there.

Thanks to my beta NightsBlackRose13 for the fast proofreading! You make my life a whole lot easier.

Without further ado, on to the chapter! Longest of this story, yet.

Chapter 7: Petty Little Nuisances

Remember when I said I've never dreamt a single dream since being reborn?

Well, tonight I do. It's a vivid one.

I'm standing in front of a house. It's made of red bricks and has two stories, a front garden with climbing roses covering a good part of the left side of the wall and a white front door. A garage is attached to the right side of the building and its door is open, revealing an older model dark blue Volkswagen Passat.

It's a typical western middle class house and most definitely not the house that I currently live in. It's not the one in which okaa-chan taught me how to read and write, how to control chakra and how to make onigiri. Not the one otou-san comes home to from a long day of work. Not the one in which my little otouto is lying in his crib or busy crawling on the ground or eating in his baby chair.

This is not my house. Instead, it's home.

Anticipation bubbles in my stomach along with a light throbbing in my temples as I walk up to the white door. There's a window set in it, but the thick glass doesn't really allow me to look in.

I dig my right hand into the pocket of my jacket and take out a set of keys. They make soft clinking noises when I try to make out which is the right one to open the door. I smile fondly as my fingers brush against a matryoshka penchant, the laughing face of the miniature doll shiny from the varnish applied to the wood. My little brother had given it to me when he came back from his trip to Moscow.

I finally find the key. It fits perfectly and the door swings open.

Everything is as I remember. On my left side there's the shoe rack, stacked full of shoes of different sizes for the three people still living here after I moved out for university, and on my right the coatrack, equally as full. A full body mirror leans against the wall right across from where I'm standing and I can see my reflection on its surface.

I unzip my jacket and reveal the outfit underneath. I'm wearing jeans and my favorite blouse. It's made of silk and of a deep emerald color, and I don't look half bad in it if I may say so. But there's a strange feeling in my gut, telling me that something is off. And the throbbing in my head is becoming quite insistent.

I'm puzzled. I do a full rotation in front of the mirror, but as far as I can tell, everything fits perfectly fine: from the uncomplicated bob on my head over the pearl-colored buttons on the blouse to the sneakers, nothing is out of place. I grimace at my reflection and observe as my dark brown eyes narrow to slits, my nose scrunch up and my round-ish features contort into a generally grotesque picture.

"Hey Liz, is that you?"

I look away from my reflection and step through another door, out of the cloak room and into the smaller version of an entrance hall. Light floods in from the opposite side that's completely made of windows which go from the ceiling to the floor and reflects off the light blue tiles under my feet. A wooden staircase winds its way up to the second story from which I heard the voice coming.

"Yeah, just came back" I answer. "Are mom and dad in?"

I groan quietly when, suddenly, something in my head goes off like a jackhammer, pounding against my skull with a resounding echo. The voice sounds distorted when it answers my question.

"Nah, they just went shopping, took the other car. Didn't you notice it missing?"

I can hear feet moving, coming down the stairs. First jeans-clad legs, then a baggy sweater comes into view and when the face appears –

My vision explodes into a million flashing stars and my head straight with it.

I abruptly sit up and find myself in a bed. Blinking several times, I try to shake off the dizziness and disorientation that's threatening to send me right back to oblivion. I feel as if the ground has suddenly dropped, as if somebody has pulled away the rug beneath my feet, leaving me crashing into solid nothingness.

I don't remember dreams to be so unpleasant, especially because normally I wouldn't have categorized this one as a nightmare if not for the aftermath.

Deep breaths. Feel your chakra.

I calm down gradually, but even as my head clears, the profound feeling of wrongness doesn't leave completely. It's something that comes from deep within my very own bones and I become scared of this thing that's foreign, yet strangely familiar.

I feel the urge to have something solid by my side, something to anchor myself and to help me will this strange sensation away. Preferably warm.

I get off my bed as soon as I'm sure that I won't keel over when my feet touch the ground and walk to the shoji screen, sliding it open. The hallway is dark and deserted, devoid of even the barest hints of light. My family is probably fast asleep.

I stand there for an indecisive moment, not sure what I actually want.

Is it strange if I seriously contemplate crawling into the bed of okaa-chan and otou-san? Seeing that I've always been exceedingly independent, they would probably think so.

Argh. I vote for the right to snuggle with my parents whenever I want to regardless of age and maturity. Declare it as therapeutic necessity.

Not that I need therapy. Goddamnit, it's just a dream. What am I making all that fuss about?

I turn on my heels and almost go back to my bed, but somehow, my body is reluctant to move. The thought of having to go back and face the darkness alone leaves me trembling and gasping for breaths.

Without further thinking, I move five steps to my left and silently open the screen to the room next to mine. I tiptoe to the crib and climb in next to my baby brother. Obito shifts a bit but doesn't wake up, not even as I carefully hug his tiny warm body and hold him close to me. He smells like baby powder and the cedar-scented shampoo okaa-chan uses to wash his hair. It calms me down like nothing else and as I slowly fall asleep, I'm almost confident that I won't dream anymore tonight.

)()()(

In the early morning, I sneak back into my room before anybody can notice that I spent the night in Obito's room.

I'm a bit embarrassed about this whole thing, but at least I'd been right. The sleep after that had been deep and dreamless and I'm pretty sure that this is an isolated case with a slim chance of repeat.

)()()(

"Etsuko" otou-san says at dinner three weeks later. "What do you think about the academy?"

I freeze with my chopsticks halfway to my mouth. My eyes go from otou-san's face to okaa-chan's and what I see makes me uncomfortable.

Because both are watching me rather carefully.

Which in return tells me that they may or may not have planned something.

"Um" I mumble. "It's the place where kids go to become shinobi?"

Otou-san almost sighs. "I didn't actually ask you what the academy is, but I guess that's what I get for being so vague. Let me rephrase it then: Would you like to enroll there?"

"N-now?" I blurt out. "Isn't that a bit e-early … I-I mean I'm only three!"

"New classes will start next spring" okaa-chan begins and otou-san seamlessly takes over. "And by that time you'll be four. I admit that you'll probably be the youngest child to enroll, but your mother and I believe you're more than ready."

And then they fucking smile.

My hands start to sweat as I try to come up with an appropriate answer that will make my opinion on this matter unmistakably clear. Because I do have an opinion on this, one that is set in stone and backed up with solid reasoning.

I don't want to go to the academy so early.

And with 'going to the academy' I actually mean 'graduation' because I seriously doubt that attending the classes will pose a challenge for me.

Why is that a problem? It is, because early graduation won't do any favors for my goals to protect my family. First, the time which I spend in class will be time spent away from them. Second, time spent on team training as a member of a genin team will be time spent away from them. Third, time spent on missions will be – yeah, you guessed right – time spent away from them.

Which is completely unnecessary, when tutoring me at home will most likely yield the same results in terms of academia and physical skill since I learn much faster when there's nobody around to drag me down.

I'm aware that I couldn't do anything even if I stayed with them every single minute of the day, but for some reason I'm convinced that I'll know if something is amiss. It's a gut feeling, just like watching a TV show or reading a good book and at some point knowing that drama will descend. I'll know and I'd be able to at least warn them.

Even more important than that, though, is something else still: Itachi's fate serves as a grim reminder of what happens to kids in the Uchiha clan if they reveal themselves to be smarter and faster than anybody else. I know that his case was especially extreme since he was especially talented and the clan heir, but I'm still pretty sure that certain tendencies run through this clan like liquid tar. You know, that hot, sticky-as-hell and poisonous stuff?

Yeah, exactly.

I happen to know how his story ended and as selfish as it sounds, I like my sanity, thank you very much.

My silence seems to last a bit too long because one of otou-san's eyebrows shoots up.

"You do want to become a shinobi, don't you?" he says. His voice is laced with genuine surprise which gives me the impression that he didn't mean to pose this as a leading question. Surprise because he probably never expected me to answer with anything less than enthusiasm, because, let's be honest, I never gave him reason to doubt that I'd want to be a shinobi. If anything, I had always been the one to push both of them to teach me.

"Yes?" I answer timidly.

I think I want to be a shinobi but at the same time, I don't want to be one.

What I want is being able to protect my precious people, which in this world means that I have no choice but to become a ninja, but I never wanted to be one for the sake of being one. I don't want to go on shady missions that could end my life. I don't want to kill people I don't know and who've done no harm to me. I don't want to dirty my hands. In this sense, I'm being incredibly selfish again.

It is at this moment that I realize with startling clarity that I've never been anything but selfish.

In my past live I had believed that I belonged to the sort of people who would put the greater good before my own needs. I believed in honor, as archaic as this word is, but the concept appealed to me more than any meaning modern terms could convey. I believed I was one of those who acted honorably, chipping in my two cents into university politics and volunteering for social institutions. I believed I was a decent person.

Three and a half years spent in this life, with half a year being practically comatose and two years in a fear induced depression, and I realize that I'd been successfully fooling myself. I realize that I've never really gone out of my way to improve the world as I had so pretentiously thought. Every good deed that I'd ever done had been conveniently lying right in my way and never demanded much of an effort. True, other people thought I was dedicated since there were far more people doing much less, but just because I was interested in the happenings of my immediate environment it didn't make me a better person.

It's also true that in my old life, this kind of involvement had been enough, considering I'd been young and at the beginning of my professional life. I had been living inside the standard bubble of a standard university student, leading a comfortable and privileged life in a wealthy country during peace time, so there'd been no real reason to move beyond my comfort zone.

But here, in a world where losing your life is a workaday risk, those tiny little things mean nothing. Here, trying to improve the world means sacrifice in sweat and blood. It requires idealism and selflessness the size of tailed beasts. The kind of which Jiraiya, Itachi and Naruto are and will be capable of, that's true.

But what is also true, is that out of these three, two had ended up dead.

I know I'm not them, that I could never be. Grand goals crumble to ashes in my mind because they forever lack base. The only things that effectively matter to me are myself and my family, the latter in turn being an extension of myself.

I am but a despicable person.

"I … I need more time to think" I choke out to otou-san and okaa-chan. I can't meet their eyes. "Can I decide this later?"

"Of course you can" Okaa-chan says. She sounds worried. "In fact, you have time until early spring since the academy won't take new students before that. Are you alright, Etsuko-chan?"

I nod. "I'm fine. I just want to go to my room. Please excuse me."

I stand up and practically flee from the room, barely dragging along my dignity and self-respect.

This is going to take some time to sort itself out.

)()()(

There're four chairs in the room, positioned in front of a piano. Before each of them is a music stand made of wood and metal, the kind which you see in almost every music college.

It's a quintet rehearsal. We'll be rehearsing Schumann's piano quintet, I suddenly remember. But if this is a rehearsal, where are my fellow musicians?

"I can't play with this music edition."

I know this voice. It sounds whiny and it's giving me a headache.

"It's shit. The bowings and the dynamics are all wrong. This is not the urtext edition. I refuse to play out of material that isn't urtext."

"Then why the hell did you get this edition in the first place?"

Another voice. I know this one, too. My headache is getting worse.

"I needed something to practice with and I thought Elizabeth would give us the right material!"

"I did" I say. "I put a copy in your locker one week ago."

Where're the people?!

"You should have told me!"

"Don't you ever check your locker?"

"Of course I do, but I didn't see any sheet music in there."

A new voice behind me tunes in. "I had enough of this. I'll take the original and make copies now, so –"

Oh! That's my brother's –

My head explodes.

Well, not literally. But the pain certainly leaves that impression.

I sit up, wildly gasping for breath. It takes a few seconds until I'm coherent again. My bed. My room. My dream.

I feel terrible.

Fuck this.

Obito doesn't complain as I crawl beside him and under his blanket. He's asleep, but he subconsciously turns his head to me. He's soft and warm and all the reassurance that I need. I fall asleep pretty quickly with him by my side.

)()()(

Otou-san apparently thinks that giving me one night and day – which I spend mostly moping around in my room – should be enough to deal with whatever problem I have. I hear him approaching and halting before the shoji screen that leads into my room.

"Etsuko, I'm coming in."

And then he's standing in front of my bed, presumably looking down on my sorry self as I lie curled up on the sheets, with my arms wrapped around myself and facing the wall. The dream didn't do me any favors, what with all the self-loathing that I'm busy doing.

Otou-san probably wants to know why I'm not telling him anything – again. Despite the deal we made. Despite the mutual trust we promised to each other. He's justified in feeling wronged, I guess, but that doesn't make it any easier for me.

"Do you know what my job entails, Etsuko?"

Ah. So he's trying to get in through the I'm-your-father-you're-my-daughter-we-both-have-responsibilities-let's-have-a-grown-up-conversation-door. I don't have any comments on that. As I said, I can totally understand his point.

I feel the mattress dip under the added weight of otou-san sitting down.

"I'm sure you know I work as a police officer in the Konoha Police Force. You may know it as the Uchiha Police Force since it's run entirely by our clan, but it is in fact an institution of the village. Every officer is a trained shinobi who has served at least as a genin on active duty once but the overwhelming majority is chuunin or above. It's a career option only open to us Uchiha and a show of trust between the Hokage and the clan."

The more I listen, the more I wonder what otou-san is getting at exactly. Is he not going to read me the riot act for behaving like a mopey brat? Why is he telling me about the Police Force?

"I don't really understand why you need time to decide if you want to enroll in the academy because frankly, your mother and I both are confident that you'll have no difficulties with the classes and we're fairly sure you know it, too. However, we can clearly see that something's bothering you and preventing you from accepting. We can't determine what it is and until you actually talk to us we can't do anything on that front. But since you haven't given us an outright 'no' either, we take it as permission to give you further encouragement."

That catches my attention. Otou-san is so open and sincere about his intentions that it's outright suspicious. But then again, he might actually honor the deal we made, unlike a certain bratty someone. I turn around to see his face. His expression is serious – and honest.

"What kind of encouragement?" I ask.

Otou-san doesn't miss a beat. "Come with me to the Police Force tomorrow."

Uh … ok?

"I want to show you how the organization works. I want you to see the purpose of it and to realize that it serves as an important pillar of Konoha's inner workings. Would that be agreeable to you?"

How can I refuse when he's asking so nicely?

"O-okay."

"Very well. I have a day off tomorrow, so we can go after training and a quick lunch when the afternoon shift starts."

He stands up from the mattress and evens out the folds in his yukata. His ink-black eyes land on me, his gaze thoughtful and tinted with something – softer.

"Sleep well, Etsuko" he says and exits the room.

)()()(

I readily admit that I'm impressed.

The manga showed the building of the Uchiha – no, Konoha – Police Force only once, namely when Itachi gave lil' Sasuke a piggy-back ride because the boy had managed to twist his ankle during training. They had passed it on their way home and Itachi had explained why there was a big fat Uchiha fan on a building that was supposedly a village institution.

What the manga didn't show, however, was the fact that the headquarters are right in the middle of Konoha, located closely to the Hokage's quarters. Which makes it the first place I've ever visited that is not in the Uchiha district.

Whoop-whoop.

It is a complex consisting of half a dozen buildings, each for the separate branches of the Police Force. The flashiest one is three stories high, built with more glass in the sand-colored walls than one would expect from a building made by a paranoid bunch of people such as ninja and obviously the main building. The style is decidedly western, which surprises me a great deal since Uchiha tend to feel more comfortable with traditional styles.

Otou-san marches straight up to it and we enter the reception hall.

Although it's spacious, it's not particularly inviting. Windows, though not really scarce, are small and thick, making it necessary for a small army of fluorescent lamps to provide enough light. There is a reception desk to the left and a double row of seats on the right, leaving the back with lots of doors and a stairwell. The dominant colors are dark blue and white, and if there's the occasional speck of crimson, I'm not too surprised.

I almost roll my eyes. As if it wasn't clear that this is an Uchiha-run business.

It's not particularly crowded in here, though I spot a few very busy looking relatives darting around.

"This is the main administrative building" otou-san explains. "The offices and archives are in here, as well as all the things concerning civilian cases. There in the back are a few interrogation rooms."

"Only civilian cases?" I ask.

"Yes. For crimes committed by shinobi we have another building. Two actually, if you count in T&I."

A shiver races down my spine at the mention of T&I. I didn't know it had formerly belonged to the Konoha Police Force, but thinking about it, this actually makes sense, since the Konoha Police Force is above all a military force tasked with maintaining the security of the village. It must have become an own branch when the whole thing had to be reorganized in the aftermath of the Uchiha massacre.

I guess it's difficult to maintain an institution when the personnel specialized for it is … absent. I wonder how ANBU dealt with the sudden influx of additional duties.

I suppress a shiver. This time around, it mustn't come to that.

"Here is where all the new recruits start out" otou-san continues. "They're tasked to handle the civilian cases until they have proven themselves to be proficient. The Police Force demands from its officers to be absolutely diligent and in top shape at any given time to be capable of restraining and bringing shinobi to justice. Only the strongest can do that and as I said before, it's a sign of respect and trust from the Hokage to the Uchiha clan. He knows that the strength we wield is unrivaled. Etsuko, do you know the origins of the Konoha Police Force?"

I know, but of course I can't show since nobody officially told me, yet, so I shake my head and listen dutifully as otou-san launches into a narration of how the Police Force, whose full name is the Konoha Military Police Force by the way, came into being.

One question is nagging at the back of my mind, though: Does he … does he really believe what he just told me? All of it?

I watch his face as he talks and leads me through the building and realize that, yes, he completely and genuinely believes it.

Nearly four years living in the middle of an Uchiha family and it's the first time in my acquaintance with otou-san and okaa-chan that the superiority complex of this clan is thrust bluntly into my face.

Okaa-chan is all about traditions, true, about understanding what it means to be an Uchiha – the hairpin is in a small wooden box in the last drawer of my closet, hidden under a pile of neatly folded sleeping gowns, by the way – and during training with otou-san there has always been this strong undercurrent of highest expectations flowing through his regimen. But to hear it so directly is kinda … stunning.

I think this place is partly to blame for it, too.

What his explanations also show me, though, is that the Uchiha still seem to be on relatively good terms with the village administration. Tobirama must have been a particularly persuasive talker when he offered them the control over the Police Force to have successfully disguised his true interest of channeling the Uchiha rage into something productive for the village and Hiruzen must have carried that on rather admirably.

Hah. Who am I trying to fool? Tobirama, a persuasive talker? That was Hashirama's strong suit, not his.

… which only leaves the solution that the Uchiha wanted to believe whatever he fed them as long as it brought peace.

Apparently, even the strongest grow tired of never ending fights – with the exception of dear old Madara of course.

"Nobuo! What a surprise to see you here. It's your day off, isn't it?"

Otou-san and I both turn around to look at the person who has addressed him. We're inside his office by now and there, leaning against the doorframe is a middle-aged Uchiha. His tall form is clad in typical jounin wear, green flak jacket over a dark shirt and pants, though the flak jacket looks kinda … strange. Its color is lighter and it lacks the scroll pouches on the chest leaving it plainer than the version I'm used to. Is this some kind of special Uchiha jacket?

His face has some deep lines at the corners of his mouth, giving him a default serious look, but his eyes are surprisingly expressive as he takes us in with an interested gaze. His dark hair has wide silver streaks in it and sticks from his head in wild spikes.

"Tomomi-senpai! I was wondering if we would run into you today. This is my daughter Etsuko and I'm currently showing her our work place. Etsuko, this is my partner Tomomi."

I bow quickly. "A pleasure to meet you, Uchiha-san."

Tomomi smirks at that. "My, if you call me Uchiha-san here, every single person will turn their head. Call me Tomomi, Etsuko-chan. And it's a pleasure to meet you, too."

"Alright, Tomomi-san" I reply like the well-behaved little girl I am.

"So, are you going home now?" otou-san asks.

Tomomi nods. "My wife has prepared a feast for our 25th anniversary, so I'm leaving. I think the people can handle themselves just fine."

"Congratulations, senpai!" otou-san says and I'm almost shocked to see a real smile flash across his face. I catch the movement of his left thumb as it tenderly rubs against the silvery band on his ring finger.

I giggle internally and have to bite my lip not to let it bubble out. Otou-san is secretly a sap.

"Thank you. Well, I'm on my way now. Have a nice evening!" Tomomi gives otou-san a nod, me a jovial wink and leaves.

Otou-san turns to me. "We'll leave soon, too. Do you have any specific questions? Anything you want to see?"

Well, I am curious. "Would it be ok to show me what you're currently working on?"

"Unfortunately not. Current investigations are strictly confidential. But I can show you some cases in the archive if you want."

"Yes, please!"

For that, we have to go to the basement. We make our way downstairs, but before we have even entered the reception hall, we can hear agitated voices.

"… want a real officer, not some rookie who doesn't understand the importance of this!"

A woman stands before the reception desk, yelling at the person manning it. She has a little girl at her side. Both of their attires practically scream 'wealthy civilian'.

The desk officer valiantly tries to pacify her. "We assure you, all officers working here are fully capable of handling your case-"

"I refuse! I refuse to let this be busted by some stupid mistake made by a bloody beginner! If you don't bring me a professional in the next five minutes I'm going to talk to-"

Otou-san is there with three quick strides. "Excuse me, can I help you?"

My relative at the desk practically sags with relief. Poor guy.

"Are you an officer here?" the woman asks. She's not particularly tall, but she's doing her best trying to look down on otou-san. "You don't look like one."

"As a matter of fact, I am. I'm not wearing my uniform at the moment so that might be confusing for you." Otou-san is markedly polite. "I heard that you're refusing to let our regular officers on duty handle your case. May I inquire as to why?"

The woman sizes him up for a few seconds and is apparently satisfied with what she sees. "I'm Yanai Emiko, wife of Yanai Tadashi, the richest man in the village. I am here to file a report concerning a family heirloom of great value that was stolen from me and I want an experienced officer to lead the investigation."

Otou-san patiently waits until her rant is over. "Is this all?"

Yanai Emiko screeches in indignation. "You clearly don't understand –"

Otou-san's left eye has developed a tick in the last approximately 30 seconds, but the rest of his poker face is remarkably well maintained. "I understand very well, Yanai-san" he interrupts her. "Although I'm currently not on duty, I'm willing to take over. Please follow me to one of the interrogation rooms. I'll file your report there."

Yanai sniffs dramatically. "At least there's one sensible person around." Then she turns around to the little girl at her side – that I had honestly long forgotten about.

"Akiko, you stay here and wait until I'm finished."

"Yes, okaa-san" Akiko answers meekly.

Otou-san dips his head apologetically in my direction and leads Yanai to one of the rooms at the back of the hall.

Left alone in the reception hall, I'm at a loss at what to do. The desk officer has returned to his paper work in the small room behind the desk, door almost shut, and suddenly, I'm aware that it's rather quiet. I decide to sit down and walk to the row of seats. Akiko is already there, sitting on the dark blue covers like a princess and watching me with an expression that says something along the line of clear disdain.

Whoa.

Forget the Uchiha superiority complex. This is on a whole new level.

Up close, I realize that the little girl actually isn't as little as I thought, at least age wise. Although she's not much taller than me, I can see that she must be actually several years older, maybe by six or seven years. She has light brown hair like her mother, falling in curls past her shoulders, very pale skin and a face like a doll, even though it's kinda pointed.

She reminds me of someone, especially her arrogant expression, but I can't put a finger on it.

I settle down on my own chair and have just gotten comfortable when I hear her voice again. This time it sounds decidedly not meek, more commanding and – dare I say it – bitchy.

"Uchiha!"

Even her voice tugs at something in my memory, but for the life of me, I can't seem to recall a name. I look up from my legs that I'm currently busy tucking into a neat lotus position and look in her direction.

"Yeah you, little girl!"

Oh, the audacity.

I don't deign to give her an answer, simply raising my left eyebrow instead.

"I'm thirsty. Go and fetch me some water."

Excuse me?!

'I can't play with this music edition' a similar voice echoes in my mind. It's completely out of place, so I ignore it.

I snort. "Go fetch your own water if you want to drink. I'm not your servant."

"My feet hurt" she whines. "It's too hard to stand up."

'It's shit. The bowings and the dynamics are all wrong.'

"Tough luck" I answer breathily. "Looks like you won't be getting water anytime soon, then."

"You're younger than me. You have to do what I say!"

'This is not the urtext edition.'

This voice is getting annoying. It's hard enough having to deal with one wanna-be princess, I can live without having a second one in my head, thank you very much. And could you please turn down the volume? You're starting to drown princess Akiko over there.

Which reminds me, she just said something, didn't she?

"Sorry, what was that?"

That irritates her. "You have to listen when I'm talking!"

'I refuse to play out of material that isn't urtext.'

"You insolent brat!"

'I needed something to practice with –'

"Bring me water! Now!"

'– and I thought Elizabeth would give us the right material!'

"SHUT UP, Amanda!"

Dead silence greets me.

I have to open my eyes to realize that I have clenched them shut. My hands are curled up into fists, nails digging into my palm, and it costs me conscious effort to release them.

"What?"

My head snaps up again and I see confusion on Amanda's face. No, she's not Amanda – her name is Akiko – Amanda is someone else – I don't know – who is Amanda?!

"How should I know? You called me that!"

I must've spoken the last question out loud because she – Akiko – is looking at me like I'm some deranged hyena.

A deranged hyena. Hysterical laughter bubbles up from my stomach and I double over from the exertion of expelling it. Deranged hyena indeed! Just like Shenzi, Banzai and Ed from the lion king. Quick, where is Scar to rein me in?

I nearly tumble from my seat as the three start dancing in my mind, their movements jerky and out of sync. It's hilarious to watch them.

Now a drum has started playing, too. Its rapid beat meets the grotesque dance of the hyenas, taking control of their movements and rising steadily in volume. Faster and faster the rhythm goes, faster and faster the hyenas dance and as they all spiral into one gigantic blur of bodies and sounds, I tumble with them into an abyss of swirling colors.

So, how did you like it? I'd love to hear your thoughts! And by the way, for all fans of good classical music, check out Schumann's piano quintet. It's a thing of beauty.