I'm back with another update!

I apologize again for the lateness of this chapter, but apart from Istanbul (which was GREAT by the way) real life happened. You know about this London-exchange-thingie I wrote into Chapter 11? Yeah, it's real. Well, obviously not the I-got-run-over-by-a-car-part. But the communicating-with-the-needed-people-is-a-pain-in-the-ass-part. Good thing to come out of this, though, is that it's going to happen! I got accepted and will be spending the coming fall term in London. Hooray to me! :)

So that's part of why I'm late. The other part is still going on and I'd like to keep it under covers in order to not jinx myself. I'm kinda superstitious in that regard.

On another note, a tumblr user asked me how I magine Kiyomi and Nobuo to look like. The result is a doodle. You can head over there if you want to see it, I' ll post a link on my profile.

Huge thanks again to my beta NightsBlackRose13! We had a really productive brainstorming session the other night, and, my dear readers, the future is gonna be exciting, if I may say so. Also, this chapter has become much better after being read by them, as always.

But without further ado, on to the next chapter! I've made you wait for long enough.

Chapter 12: Where Art Thou Go, Little Girl?

I wish I didn't have to wake up.

I slowly open my eyes to the afternoon sun shining into the hospital room. Everything is bathed in a soft golden light, creating the kind of glow that usually has people commenting on the perfection of the weather and the goodness of life, but to me it seems like nothing but cruel mockery. Memories of my death lie heavy on my mind, the taste of tears and the sounds of muffled sobs fresh on my senses, and my desperate yearning to see Mom, Dad and Link is amplified by the added grief over the loss of Okaa-chan and Otou-san, tearing at my heart and flooding my chest with unbridled anguish.

For four years, they'd been the people I'd seen every day, the people to guide me through this world that is familiar and strange at once, the people that had showered me with attention and love. And although our relationship had been rocky at times, there was no question that they had well and truly become parents to me, even with my subconscious trying to merge them with my old parents – which wouldn't have worked if I hadn't come to regard them as such in the first pace – filling the aching emptiness in my heart that had been caused by the shock of dying and being reincarnated without the people I had known and loved my whole life before.

Four years of learning and coming to love them. Four years of something as close to happiness as I was able to get with my baggage. Four years of being accepted without questions.

All murdered, ripped away from me in one single night.

And as if that wasn't enough, I just had to tear down the walls to the memories of my first life. Right now, there's nothing I regret more than this decision. I regret it from the bottom of the hole where my heart used to be and soon I realize that regret isn't strong enough a word. Regret doesn't even begin to cover it.

I curse my decision not to reseal my memories to hell and back. If I could, I'd shove all those pictures and emotions back into the deepest recesses of my mind, right along with this new pain that's rendering me immobile, paralyzed not only in body but first and foremost in mind.

That would require energy, though. Energy that's currently being sucked out of my system as soon as it's generated.

I close my eyes, half-heartedly trying to shut everything out and – naturally – failing miserably. I let out a weak groan and shift, preparing to roll over and bury my face in the pillow, possibly, hopefully, smothering myself with it, until I bump into something small, warm and solid.

Oh.

I reopen my eyes to the picture of a little white bundle with black fluffy hair, fast asleep and snuggled closely to my left side.

I guess I managed to forget about Obito. Again. Seriously, what kind of crap sister does that make me?

I watch as his chest gently rises and falls with every breath, steady and unwavering in its rhythm and I remember, remember from where I took the courage to confront myself with my past and the present, because I hoped, trusted, Obito to pull me back to the ground, to keep me rooted and to show me where to go from here.

Yes, Obito is only a baby. Yes, I'm placing a huge burden on his shoulders. Yes, I know I am incredibly selfish.

But I need him.

I need him more than he needs me, because changing diapers, cooking meals or bathing him and washing his clothes are things that other people can do just as well as I can, probably even better, because I have never been able to get beyond 'mediocre' in all things even remotely resembling chores. But what I expect from him is nothing less than for him to become my sparkling lifeline, for him to rescue me.

I'm aware that the love that I can offer him in turn will not even be close to enough because I can't hope to replace Okaa-chan and Otou-san, but if he doesn't hate me at the end of it all, I can count it as a victory.

If in the end, he's not too repulsed of being my sibling, it'll be okay. I can live with that.

)()()(

Obito is awake and being fed by a nurse when the Sandaime comes in a couple of hours later. I look up from my bowl of rice porridge, the food untouched and the spoon lying uselessly in my limp hand, and I see that the nurse does the same. She sits on a chair in front of Obito, who is seated in a wooden baby chair himself and wiggling with his arms and legs. He whines impatiently at the interruption of the steady food income, but quiets down again when the nurse resumes after a nod and a murmured greeting to the Hokage. He watches the newcomer with big, curious eyes.

"Hello Etsuko-chan" Hiruzen greets me warmly.

"Hokage-sama" I mumble. My voice sounds tiny and fragile, and truth be told, I'm hardly in the mood for any conversation. If I could've had it my way, it would only be me and my baby brother in this room, which is what I actually tried to suggest when the nurse came in with the food, but that didn't work. She probably didn't trust me to feed Obito without messing up the room or something.

Hiruzen sits down in the chair between the two beds and smiles at Obito. "And little Obito, is it?" My baby brother lets out a loud coo and flails excitedly with his arms, preventing the nurse from giving him his next spoonful and the Hokage laughs.

"Quite a lively little lad, hm? He reminds me of my own boy, Asuma. Say, Etsuko-chan, how old is he?"

"Nine months, almost ten" I answer without having to think.

"Ah, just a few months younger than Asuma then. Maybe they'll become friends one day."

I'm almost certain that in canon, they didn't. Obito's academy class was mostly busy looking down on him for not being the perfect ninja, after all.

Hiruzen continues making amiable one-sided conversation with me, and I feel myself slowly relaxing to the sound of his deep, gravelly voice. As I observe him during his talk, I notice again how young he is. With Asuma just a few months older than Obito he's probably only a bit older than Otou-san and Okaa-chan.

I flinch at this thought. It hurts to think about them.

Finally, the nurse finishes feeding Obito. She stands up, puts the dishes on the little wagon she came in with and turns around to take mine, too. She frowns when she sees that I haven't even touched the food.

"Leave it here" Hiruzen says. "She might be hungry later."

The nurse nods, puts Obito into his bed, takes her stuff and leaves.

There's a moment of silence in which the air shifts ever so slightly. Whatever it is that the Hokage came for, it's going to happen now. I'm not delusional enough to think that he's here for the sake of a nice chat.

What he says next surprises me, though.

"How are you feeling, Etsuko-chan?"

There's genuine worry in his eyes and something squeezes my chest painfully. I hastily look away, my breathing coming in ragged pants and my hands moving to clutch the fabric of the hospital gown over my heart.

"I'll manage" I choke out miserably.

The Sandaime sighs. I don't dare to look into his eyes again, because I'm afraid I might find something terrible like compassion which would not help my current impulse to simply lie down and cry, so my stare stays fixed on the white hospital blanket.

Until I hear noises from the other bed. I look over to see that Obito has managed to roll onto his stomach and is now experimenting with different positions for his head, alternately laying it on his left and right cheek. Every time his head touches the mattress, he coos happily, and he seems to think it particularly funny when he tries to lie down flat on his nose, arms and legs wiggling and a small muffled giggle coming out before he lifts his head again and looks at me. A broad smile is set on his face and I can't help but smile in return, my chest warming and easing the pain. He rests his head again, never breaking eye-contact, and stretches his left arm in my direction. He waves enthusiastically and the intention is clear.

Come over!

Who am I to defy this command?

I quickly get out of my bed and climb into his. We snuggle closely together and Obito lets out a content gurgle

"I think your parents would be very proud of you, Etsuko."

I jolt, having completely forgotten about the Sandaime sitting right next to the bed. I look at him guiltily, my face probably as red as a tomato, but he just smiles kindly.

"You're a strong girl. You did everything you could to protect your brother, didn't you?"

Pictures of myself plunging a kunai into them and slicing their throat flash before my eyes.

I swallow thickly. I guess you could say that.

"Etsuko, what happened last night was terrible. I've not seen everything with my own eyes, so there're things that I still don't know, but I'm resolved to find out every last detail and to deliver justice to the people who did this. You have been at one of those places where I couldn't be, so you know things that I don't. Will you tell me about them and help me with my goal?"

So, that's it then.

This is an interrogation. Not that surprising, really, when I think about it. They've probably figured out that there is a relatively high chance that I've killed that person.

I'm surprised that I'm not scared shitless by this discovery. There's doubtlessly a mountain of things that are problematic about this whole situation, but somehow I can't help but feel relieved. An interrogation is something with a pattern, something which has a certain structure with clear roles assigned. There is the one who asks the questions and there is the one who answers them. It's really simple and nothing like the convoluted mass of emotions that I've been wading through for the past hours.

I feel detachment creeping up my spine as I slip into a state of cool analysis and logic. With a nod, I signal the Hokage that I'm ready.

)()()(

I tell him everything.

From the moment that falcon came to the window of our living room, bearing a yellow coded message for Otou-san over Okaa-chan leaving me and Obito in Chieko's custody to assist Otou-san to me finding myself in the grip of the enemy. I leave nothing out, describing the details of their appearance and everything I remember of their fighting style – which, unfortunately, isn't much, since I'd been busy hanging on for dear life while Otou-san did the fighting – and finally come to the part where I become a murderer.

Well, not everything. The awakening of my Sharingan isn't something I'm ready to share and I figure it wouldn't help him that much anyway.

I finish my report with Sakumo's appearance and when the last words have fallen from my lips, they leave a heavy silence behind. Obito has gone quiet, too, but with a quick glance I can determine that he's not fallen asleep. I pull him closer to me.

"Thank you, Etsuko-chan" Hiruzen finally says. He sounds very, very tired. "This is a big help."

I look up to see the Sandaime rubbing his temples with closed eyes. I don't know if it's the lighting or something else, but he suddenly looks way older. Not canon-old, but maybe ten years older from just half an hour ago.

This whole thing, I realize with a start, is as hard on him as it is on me.

He takes his hands down again and exhales slowly. Opening his eyes, he directs his gaze at me. "I'm sure you're very exhausted now. Somebody of your clan will come shortly to bring you to your new home, so I'll say goodbye for the time being. Unless you have any questions you want to ask?"

Well. As it happens, I do have some.

During my recounting of the events, several have arisen, poking at my brain and demanding to be asked. They aren't trivial and I wonder why I haven't thought of them before, especially since they present a way to find out who is responsible for the disaster, a way to focus my energy without depending on Obito to pull me from rock bottom, a way to move forward.

They have the potential to be the base for a life-mission.

I take a deep breath.

"Only if you don't mind, Hokage-sama."

)()()(

We're finally discharged from the hospital when an elderly Uchiha comes to fetch us later in the evening after the interrogation-turned-question-and-answer-session.

The Sandaime has been surprisingly indulgent with my queries, never once turning me down or belittling me. Granted, there wasn't much I could ask without appearing to be miles out of a nearly-four-years-old's mental league, and of the questions I could ask, there weren't many with definite answers since the investigations had just started and a lot of the things were classified. Which meant that, ultimately, I didn't get a lot of information.

Or, to be precise, practically none at all, except for the bit where I'm assured that the Clan will take care of Obito and me.

In the end, the only certain result of this whole thing is that I feel exhausted again, the energy of cool logic depleted and once again replaced by listless apathy.

I'll have to find a way to make it last longer if I don't want to become perpetually depressed.

"I'm Usui" the Uchiha introduces himself gruffly, startling me out of my gloom. "I'll bring you to the place where your new guardians live."

The man is grim-faced, has quite thick white hair and wears angular glasses without a frame that make his eyes appear squinty. His voice is a deep basso that's clearly used to giving out orders and the scathing glare that he shoots at the nurse when she doesn't immediately hand him over the necessary paperwork after requesting it tells me that he's also used to them being followed.

Thankfully, though, he doesn't comment on my stubborn insistence to carry Obito myself.

We walk in silence, him always three steps in front of me, and for the first time, I'm wondering what exactly is going to happen to Obi and me. Again, I'm astonished that this question didn't occur to me earlier, but I suppose that, considering the emotional turmoil I've been going through, it's not really that surprising that my foresight has been stretching less than two inches away from me.

I consider asking the Uchiha in front of me because I suspect him to be one of the clan elders and if anyone knows my immediate fate it would probably be them since Takao-sama, who as clan head usually handles such things, is currently leading the vanguard. Of course, there's still Fumio, but he's young and inexperienced and is likely to rely heavily on the counsel of the elders, so it all comes full circle again.

That is, if I'd have the energy to care.

At the moment, though, I'm sorely tempted to just let whatever is coming happen. Let them decide and do what seems fitting. As long as Obito and I stay together, it'll be alright.

So I trudge behind him, past rows and rows of houses and through street after street, letting Obito, who's unusually subdued, play with my hair, until we come to a stop at a traditional looking building with an Uchiha fan plastered on its front.

I don't recognize the neighborhood. Are we even still in the Uchiha district?

Usui turns around to look at me. "This is Yashiro-san's house and your new home. He has a wife and a son who is just a couple years older than you. They have taken on the duty of raising the both of you despite the circumstances surrounding the death of your parents. Remember their kindness at all times and repay them when you're able to."

Through the sluggish lump that's currently my brain, a reaction works its way up to daylight and I look up sharply.

What.

Circumstances? What is he talking about? And why despite them? He makes it sound like Otou-san and Okaa-chan did something wrong!

I open my mouth to ask him directly, but before I can let a sound escape my lips, he's already turned around again and heading for the front door. He knocks twice on the wood and a few seconds later the door swings open.

A woman emerges. She's shorter than Usui and wears her hair, colored in the darkest shade of chocolate, in a bun. Her face is round and her features soft as they form into a nervous, eye-squeezing smile. She bows and murmurs Usui's name in greeting, her voice high-pitched but gentle.

"Naoko-san" Usui says. He gesticulates behind himself at me. I'm still standing three steps behind him, shoulders hunched and anxiously biting my lip because what did that comment mean, why does the name Yashiro sound so familiar, this is not home, I want to go home. "These are Etsuko and Obito. Come here, Etsuko, and meet Uchiha Naoko, one of your new guardians."

I reluctantly do as I'm told and step forward. "Please take care of us" I mumble as I bow for Naoko-san.

Usui clears his throat. "When is Yashiro coming back?"

"He'll come in any moment now." Her voice sounds just like her face looks. Soft. Meek, even.

"I'll leave them in your care then, Naoko-san. Fulfill your duty to the clan. Have a good night." With that, Usui turns on his heels and marches off.

)()()(

It takes me seeing Yashiro to actually remember that his name sounded familiar because I've met him before. It's not a particularly pleasant memory, which is probably the reason I nearly forgot about it in the first place, and it makes me feel something else besides pain, grief and apathy. The pressure at the back of my throat and the heat that's suddenly infused in my bloodstream strongly suggest anger.

I've met him, with his spikey, ash-grey hair, squinted eyes and a faint, perpetual sneer edged into the corner of his mouth, at Obito's introduction ceremony. He's the one who dismissed me as nothing more than 'career bride'-material.

Way to go to make yourself unpopular.

And he wastes no time to cement that first impression tonight.

We're all set for a late dinner. The right side of the low, square table from my point of view is occupied by Toshiro, Yashiro and Naoko's son, who's staring at me with narrowed eyes. He resembles his father a lot, having the same hair and face structure, which is only accentuated by his glare. On the left side sits Naoko, currently having difficulties handling Obito. He's wailing his tiny lungs out, pushing impressive amounts of air past his vocal chords, and I'm sure that he knows. He knows that something is wrong, that the arms that are holding him are neither Okaa-chan's nor Otou-san's and he's unhappy.

My hands are itching to take him from her, to press him to my chest and to kiss his cheeks and forehead until he calms down, but Yashiro's glare pins me to my place. He makes an impatient jerking motion with his head that prompts Naoko to stand up and leave the room. Without the food.

My jaw drops as my eyes follow Naoko's retreat.

He.

Did he just.

Did he just ban my baby brother from dinner?!

I don't care if his wife is ok with it, she's an adult and able to fend for herself, but OBITO IS A BABY WHO NEEDS HIS NUTRIENTS and I –

"They'll eat somewhere else. I'm not in the mood to listen to the noise he makes."

White-hot anger shoots through my veins, leaving a blazing trail of simmering energy and rendering me unable to sit still. I whip my head around to glare at Yashiro.

"You can't do this!" I yell at him. My whole body is shaking, my shoulders heaving erratically and my fingers digging deep, painful ridges into the palms of my hands. A small voice in the back of my head tells me that I'm overreacting, urges me to get a grip on myself before things happen that I can't take back, but something huge rolls over it, smashing it to bits and pieces and absorbing everything to turn into something unrecognizable. Something that contains all the pain, frustration and rage that has been adding up inside of me since the day I was reborn.

"He's a baby! He makes noises because he's goddamn hungry! He needs the food!" I screech like a fury unleashed from the depths of Tartarus. My chakra is buzzing wildly, prickling, swirling power just underneath my skin and I can feel it flooding every smallest corner of my body, the pressure intensifying at my fingertips and behind my eyes.

I blink a few times and flex my fingers to alleviate it, impatiently batting away a few dust particles away that are hovering just before my eyeballs – goddamn, is this house never dusted or why is it possible for me to see every single grain –

I freeze.

I can see every single dust grain in front of me.

"Sit down and deactivate your Sharingan, NOW!" a harsh voice cuts through the air.

I flinch and look over at Yashiro. I didn't even realize I'd stood up during my rant.

He's pale, his face all sharp lines and hard edges, barely containing an emotion that I can't identify. In his eyes I can see myself staring back, with two bright red orbs sporting one swirling tomoe each instead of the usual onyx.

The rage that has powered my body until now ceases abruptly along with the chakra stream, causing my sharp vision to fizzle out and my legs starting to tremble. I collapse on the zabuton.

I screwed up. Badly.

In more ways than one.

"Toshiro, take your dinner and eat it somewhere else" Yashiro commands. The boy stands up hastily and backs out of the room without questions, leaving only me and his father in it. I cannot look at his face.

There's a short, strained silence.

"When did you awaken it?" Yashiro demands icily.

I gulp. "Yesterday night." My voice comes out feebly, barely above a whisper.

"Did you kill one of the enemy nin?" he presses on relentlessly.

I nod, still not able to meet his eye.

Again, there's silence. When I finally gather the courage to lift my head, I find his piercing stare on me. His jaw is flexing tensely, telling me that he's thinking hard.

"Hn" he grunts at length.

He stands up and comes to me, and before I can even understand what is happening he backhands me with enough force to send me tumbling on my right side. The sound of the slap echoes loudly in the room, leaving a sharp sting blooming on my left cheek.

"I will not tolerate such behavior in my house" he intones flatly. "I don't care what your parents allowed you to do, because as long as you're living under my roof, you will follow my rules and my rules only. Have I made myself clear?" The last question takes on a menacing quality.

I can only nod, thoroughly intimidated.

"Good. I'll think of an appropriate punishment later."

He then turns abruptly and leaves the room.

I lie there for a moment longer before I find the energy to sit up again. The skin on my cheek is hot to the touch and when a tear starts rolling down, it feels soothing.

The single tear is quickly followed by others.

I start when the Shoji screen slides open and Yashiro walks in again. He has a wet towel with him. He comes to a stop before me and I half expect another blow. Instead, he hands me the towel.

"It's wrapped around some ice. Put it on your eyes to alleviate the pain."

I take it, my hands visibly shaking.

"Now get out of my sight" he says harshly.

I scramble to get up and out, my body not nimble enough to match the urge to get away from him as fast as possible.

I stumble down the hallway and into the room that Obito and I are going to share and curl up in the bed assigned to me.

I want to go home. God, how I want to go home.

So, this is the first chapter of Etsuko's new life. By the way, Yashiro is canon, you can check him out on Narutopedia.

What do you think? As usual, I'm happy to read anything that crossed your mind. So don't hesitate to leave a review! Until next time!