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Chapter Two

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Not long after his kids' first near-abduction, Kakashi's friends threw him a birthday party. It was either the first party they'd arranged or the first one I'd been awake for, and it certainly gave me a new perspective towards birthdays. I didn't know what to expect from this world's culture. Gifts, I suppose, but gifts weren't exclusive to birthdays.

Kakashi's friends brought presents, a cake, and swapped stories that included too many unfamiliar words for me to understand them. It was definitely a party. The strange thing was that the words "happy birthday" (or even just the latter word) were never said at at all. It took me some time to realize that no, my vocabulary was not mistaken, and yes, there was in fact a replacement phrase making its rounds.

"Surprise-survive-miracle," or more realistically, "I can't believe you're still alive," was seriously what they were telling him instead. Gallows humor, much?

It turned out that the phrase was a traditional part of being a jōnin—every promotion comes with a few inside jokes—but at this point in my life, all I knew was that ninja's really seemed to have something against birthdays.

As the better half of Daddy's presents were bottles of sake, I paraded the shiny things around the house. I guess I was trying (and succeeding, I'll note) to convince the partygoers that I was a normal child. Talking before age two wasn't that much of an accomplishment, not when I kept stealing my father's gifts.

It's amazing how hard battle-hardened ninjas can laugh.

It's less amazing when they nudge my father and suggest putting the kids to bed so that the adults can head out for a drinking run. Hm, I wonder why Kakashi had let us stay awake?

The Hokage appeared somewhere in the midst of the mayhem. Well, it wasn't true mayhem. Most of the adults were camped out in the living room making bets on my sake tower, which they had "secured" with ninja wire before treating it like a game of Jenga. Meanwhile, Wakato was sulking in a corner with one of Daddy's old masks. Daddy himself had retreated to the kitchen with the excuse of finding plates for his surprise birthday cake. A foolish attempt—yet another acquaintance walked in from the backyard to express condolences. Ahem, I mean, well-wishes—but really, what kind of image is it when you give a single parent a bottle of alcohol?

The Hokage handed me a colorful box. "Would you give this to your father, Wakana-chan?"

I took the box and shook it carefully. Unlike my grouchy little brother, I had accepted my job as quality control. "It's heavy," I noted with satisfaction. Then something occurred to me. "Who are you?"

I'd met him as a baby, but toddler me wouldn't know that.

"I am Hiruzen Sarutobi, the Hokage," he replied. He smiled and glanced around the room, obviously ready to leave.

Tobi is a good boy?

Oh, my poor brain.

"Um, I'm Ha-ta-ke Wakana," I replied, still caught up on that unfortunate connection. I forced the scarring images out of my head. Come on, make him a friend! "Are you my grandfather?" Whoops. Not the angle I'd expected.

The Sandaime raised an eyebrow. "Why do you ask that?"

Stupidity, I considered admitting. "You have white hair," I mumbled instead, "like Daddy and Kato-kun." White hair, really? Daddy's was silver, and Kato's was a strange silver-tan. Even the Hokage's beard still had hints of color left in it.

The Hokage smiled again, this time with real amusement. "I'm afraid we are not related, my dear. Please relay my heartfelt congratulations to your father."

I nodded obediently. But an interesting idea had occurred to me, and I was already planning to sic Kato on our new grandfather.

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"Hello, Kana-chan!" Kato and I exchanged wary glances as the stranger continued. "I'm Nao-chan. My teammates and I are going to be watching you today, right?"

I glared at Daddy's retreating back. How dare he leave his children with three twelve-year-olds and a man that looked dead on his feet. Granted, the last observation wasn't completely unfamiliar, but still, the outrage!

The girl snapped her fingers, catching our attention. "I'm Nao-chan, this is Mozuku-kun, and Bato-san, and Saimaru-sensei. You got that, right?" I forgot their names instantly. Fine, we'd get a genin team as babysitters. Once.

"Where's Daddy?" Kato asked. This would probably be his first real memory of babysitters. Daddy hadn't left for a mission since Kato had started talking in sentences, and as an expert on my baby brother, he didn't have many memories from before then.

The jōnin sensei explained that our father would be back by evening. Kato, having never actually been that long without his father, began to wail. I was made of sterner stuff.

"I go garden?" I wondered hopefully. What? They were strangers. I could talk how I pleased.

The tallest genin frowned. "Shouldn't you finish your breakfast?"

"Daddy never makes me finish," I lied. "I go garden?"

"Whatever."

The three genin and I trotted outside, leaving Kato to an unknown fate with the jōnin. Strike one for the genin. Although in all fairness, I'd opted to go outside to get away from the crying as well. I poked around in the scraggly daisies before I made the next move with as much childish conviction as I could muster. "You not ninjas."

"What? Yes, we are. See, forehead protectors."

I stared suspiciously. "Ninjas do cool stuff."

They conferred with each other silently. The solidarity was reassuring. I wasn't too impressed that they thought impressing a toddler was some kind of moral dilemma, though. Whatever. They rose to the bait as I'd hoped they would.

"We can do cool stuff! Look at that target post." I let my jaw drop as the shorter boy swapped places with the log. He switched back. "See? Ninjas."

"I be ninja. You teach?"

The three genin looked at each other and shrugged. "Here," said the girl. "Shape your hands into the Ram seal, right? Let me fix . . . never mind." Was it worrisome that my first picture book had the twelve hand seals? Yes. "Now focus your chakra like blah, blah, blah."

I tried a few times, unperturbed by the winks my captors (ahem, babysitters) shared. "Close eyes!" I commanded after enough failed attempts. I rolled the log over and quickly ran to its original spot. "Now open."

They exchanged snickers. "Good job, Kana-chan." They didn't mention that the shorter boy had used a longer sequence of Ram, Boar, Ox, Dog, and Snake. All five of the hand seals were necessary for the jutsu. Since it's hard to read hand seals on the fly, and I was only using the Ram seal for my little game of make-believe, we were all pretty smug.

"Yayyayyay!" I cheered. "I try 'gain."

Strike two for the genin team, who I now considered to be pretty stupid. Pushovers! Not even the ANBU had shown me jutsu. Any. Ever. (Which made me wonder what Daddy had threatened, since ANBU weren't exactly child-friendly.) Granted, I'd never really tried to get an ANBU to show me a jutsu. I wouldn't have been skilled enough to read the seals.

I guess the genin weren't really stupid since they hadn't thought I'd be able to read the hand seals. I'd manipulated them into showing me the jutsu. If some sort of chakra mishap happened, it would be my fault.

Still, just because I'd already gotten what I wanted didn't mean I had to stop now. A few hours of hyperactivity and these genin were bound to toss me in my room for a nap.

And if they didn't, my collection of ANBU souvenir pills was hidden inside Guwuh.

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"Shikamaru-kun. You're here early."

I brushed past Kakashi, grinning like a loon. "You're here! Let's go to my room before Kato-kun—" There was a loud crash from the kitchen, followed by several angry yips. Kakashi disappeared. "Or after," I compromised. "Come on, I don't want to clean up." Or get bitten by whichever of the dogs had just gotten offended.

Having already been exposed to Kato's uncanny knack for destruction, Shikamaru headed for Kato's and my room. "I brought you a present," he said. "Open it."

It was light, wrapped in green paper with the words "happy birthday" stamped all over. "It's pretty," I commented. "Is it Shōgi?" That was hardly a guess. I'd been pestering him about the game for months. Frankly, it was a surprise he'd held out this long.

Shikamaru sighed and flopped onto my bedroom floor. He sighed again for good measure. "You said you wanted to learn."

"Yes, but—"

"You beat me at checkers last week, remember?"

"Only because you let me win."

Shika rolled his eyes, not mentioning how he'd rigged the game and forced me into capturing his pieces. It wasn't that I needed the help. After months of playing checkers and trying to win, it had simply gotten more fun to lose, and he'd noticed. Shika was smart. But then, so was I (and I had a lot more experience to go on), enough that Shikaku himself had offered to play me. I'd refused.

Shikaku scared me more than Yoshino, and that was saying something.

"This is a pawn," Shikamaru began once I'd opened my gift, a beautiful mini Shōgi set. Surprise! "It can only move one space forward."

We were halfway through my first ever game of Shōgi when Kato poked his head through the door. "Daddy says come out and be f'endly. He says's rude to hide." Well, wasn't that just rich. He probably wanted me to come so that he could sneak off again. Ha!

"I'll be out as soon as I cream Shikamaru-kun," I said sweetly.

Kato blinked at the unfamiliar board, then grinned like a shark. "I bet you loooose," he taunted. "Maru-kun's gonna win again."

Maybe. There was an unprotected spot that I could send my gold general through. If I sacrificed my rook and feinted my silver general, I could definitely win. The thought of beating a four-year-old was what was keeping me back. Shika was smart, but he was also adorable, and I didn't like to see him disappointed.

"Kōta-kun's here!" Daddy called from the living room.

Kato cheered and zoomed off. I followed more sedately, wondering who Daddy—or Daddy's friends, who seemed to view us kids as troglodyctic midgets—had invited. I wasn't disappointed.

"Hi, I'm Inuzuka Hana, and this is my brother Kiba-kun."

I smiled, showing all my recently acquired teeth. If I had to remember getting my third set of them, I was going to use them, after all. "I'm Hatake Wakana. Nice to meet you." And then because I could, I added, "I hope your booboos get better."

"My what?"

I gestured to my face, which was happily void of any strange birthmarks or patterns. I didn't even have freckles. Boy, I'd really lucked out. If I'd had weird marks on my face, Daddy wouldn't be the only one in the family to wear a mask.

"Oh," explained Hana, "these are our clan markings. They're tattoos. We got them when we were very young."

I was about to ask what "tattoos" were, and why did they come in different colors, and would I get some, but Hana shoved a purple box into my hands like the oldest sibling she was. "Happy birthday."

"Um, thank you."

"You're welcome—Kiba! Don't stick your hand in that dog's mouth! Hatake-san's summons aren't—Kiba!" She rushed away, flashing a strained smile at the adults in the room. Poor girl. Daddy wouldn't mind if another boy besides Kato shared germs with the dogs. The summon certainly wasn't bothered. Michi loved kids.

I deposited my gift on a table and found a new source entertainment: Kato meeting Ino. She was blushing. He was rubbing the back of his neck.

"You're . . . you're . . . you're so cute!" Ino squealed. I flinched. Across the room, Daddy twitched. "Daddy!" continued Ino, tugging on her father's sleeve like a leech on caffeine. "Can I have a cute little brother like Kato-chan, please?"

Close one, Inoichi, close one. Heh, look at Kato's blush.

Hm, could I remember this confrontation for a decade or two? They wouldn't stay young and cute forever. Although Kato had a shot at staying cute, what with being a Hatake and all. Stupid genes. No one would take Daddy seriously without his mask. How had his father ever managed, sheer brutality?

"I'll ask your mother. Run along and play, sweetheart. I'm going to talk to Kato's father."

Ino nodded absently, glancing around the room with a predatory gaze. Her eyes seized upon a new victim. She skipped over. "Ooh, you're Kato-chan's little sister!"

Years of low motor function would teach anyone tolerance, and along with that comes a stellar ability to let people make their own assumptions (especially if you can influence them before those assumptions are made). "Yeah," I said shyly, and tilted my head back to remind her just how tall she was. Which was a ridiculous notion. She wasn't even six yet. "Who you?" I asked disarmingly.

Kato, you ingrate. Don't you leave me alone here, I know where you sleep.

Ino sized me up and gave her reply. "Ino. I'm a Yamanaka."

I bit my lip. "Ya-ma-ka?"

"Just Ino," she compromised. She smiled kindly.

This was not a shallow girl. This was not a girl who would break a friendship over a boy. This was not whom I had expected to meet. But it's interesting: in real life, people are more than the stereotypes and impressions written down on paper.

I had long since stopped putting people into boxes; that world had passed. People, I've found, always make their own boxes.

"Hey, brats!"

I jerked. Ugh, I knew that voice. Move over, self-preservation, Anko has arrived.

"Come on, kids, shake a leg and get in line! You're gonna play some games."

Anko, strangely enough, had never made it onto the regular list of babysitters. It might have had something to do with her feeding Kato dango before he had teeth, or maybe how one of her snake summons thought I was a pillow. Moot point. Oh, well, perhaps she'd grow out of it when her teenage years ended.

Thought no one ever.

"Straight line, midgets. Good." She grinned loudly. "Right. Where's a birthday brat?"

Kato looked at me. I looked back at him.

"Hm, can't hide 'cause you're short. The older one. Yeah, you. Kana-chan."

I stepped forward. Pity, she actually knew who was the firstborn. "Good girl. Okay, you see that picture on the wall?"

Seriously? This is a sick joke. But what had I thought, that the human-shaped dart board would be used for a trivia game?

I nodded.

"I'm gonna blindfold you and spin you a couple times, then you're gonna stick these—" she held up a handful of blunt senbon— "in him, 'kay?"

I nodded. She tied the bandana around my eyes. "I'd better get my dango, Kakashi-san," she muttered under her breath. She spun me. Aaand, welcome to pin the tail on the missing ninja.

I breathed in. I heard breathing, whispering, one of Kakashi's dogs scratching itself. I breathed out. Heartbeats. Empty space. I threw a senbon. And the rest.

Ino, Kato, and Kōta clapped. I scowled at the outline with the slit headband and slunk behind them. Let's just say I hadn't inherited the family weapons genius, because I'd been aiming for his legs, not everywhere else.

I fail to see how Kato made him die of blood loss when dart boards clearly don't have a circulatory system.

We ate the birthday cake next, a rather droopy chocolate affair with three candles that took several minutes to defeat. Two kids blowing them out? Well, let's use trick candles. "Might be a wind user," Inoichi commented to Daddy across the room. "Was she a loud baby?" Daddy wisely held his tongue.

To distract them, I announced how nice Daddy was to have baked us a cake. The adults in the room promptly froze. The children probably would have found a stray kunai cool, though. Some of us checked our slices just in case.

The small talk continued through many random visits from ANBU (Daddy went through everything first) with presents for their darling Hatake kids (one of them brought me an empty sake bottle). We moved on to opening them before all of we children trashed the house.

From Hana, wrist weights with decorative flowers. From Kiba, ankle weights with dog bones. All were adjustable, and expensive, if ANBU Deer were to be trusted.

From Ino, a ruffly purple dress that I instantly fell in love with. No, that wasn't quite true. I fell in love with the idea of wearing it through some substance that couldn't be washed out.

From Shikamaru, a Shōgi set that had magically re-wrapped itself under my supervision while I was elsewhere, eating cake. He also gave Kato a brightly colored game of Go.

Kōta gave us a deluxe set of practice kunai and a lot of chocolates. Yum.

After that, the gifts took a downhill plunge into the world of weapons: kunai, senbon, shuriken, wires, explosive tags, a poisoner's chemistry set. Kato lodged one of the shuriken in the ceiling fan and we didn't see the weapons outside of a scroll again.

From Daddy, Kato received a green mask that he'd probably never, ever remove. I got a dark blue scarf that I really did love.

Daddy told us we would start sword training soon. I asked if we had to throw them, and he laughed.

I think I love my daddy.

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"So then, Kato-kun, what would you do in such a situation?"

"I'd kill him. He betrayed the village."

"And Kana-chan?"

I shrugged, still absorbed in my multilingual argument on demographics. It had been a debate until one of my past brothers' personas (imagine Kato, teenaged) had inserted his opinion, which was a complete economical train wreck. Unfortunately, I didn't know enough about my current world's economics to justify my returning statement. Another thing to add to my bucket list.

"She's thinking again," Kato said slyly, dark eyes peeping over his masked face. "I bet she didn't hear." Stinker. He knew I had an uncanny way of always listening. Even if the words took time to register in my thoughts, I always heard them.

Ugh, interruptions.

The Sandaime was reading us The Tale of the Utterly Gutsy Ninja, a birthday present I'd insisted he read to us himself. It wasn't bad—unless compared to higher literature, such as The Lord of the Rings—but Jiraiya (I think? unless Minato had been an author?) definitely had an appealing writing style. The plot was better than any of our ninja picture books, by far.

Not knowing how to read is a torture that should never be presented to the human mind. One can only decipher so much from picture books . . . well, to be honest, not being able to read is just fine. The real torture was being stuck with children's books and the assumption that I wouldn't benefit from a plot.

"Have, too," I countered my brother flatly. "He didn't betray the village because he never loved it."

"How would you know that?" the Hokage asked curiously.

I stared at the kanji, wishing I could read more than the occasional word or phrase. "Betrayers always want to justify themselves. I think he has information on lots of villages."

It might have been true, if a few of the paper trails of the antagonist had gone in a different direction (they hadn't; I was wrong), but the Sandaime was interested. He placed the book on his desk and looked at me very seriously. "What makes you so certain, Kana-chan?"

I pushed the last traces of the English debate out of my head and felt a distinct rush of stupid. "That's what Daddy said about the man who tried to kidnap us. All bad ninjas think alike." Kato nodded in agreement—cough, idol-worship—and the Hokage sighed in awe of such great wisdom and retrieved the book.

"I'm afraid that your logic is somewhat flawed, my dear. But still, what would you do if you were Naruto?"

Ooh, loaded question!

I buried my face in my proclaimed grandfather's sleeve. "I would keep reading. Maybe he's on one of Daddy's really long missions, and he's not really bad after all. Like Daddy's not bad, even though he says some people from other places say so."

I've gathered that that was Kakashi's original way of explaining fighting to Kato. No wonder the poor kid had grown up with such a skewed outlook on the ninja life. To him, dying was just a word. If only time could stay still! Life's problems would be solved, right?

Kato scowled, torn between trusting his good sense and his overpowering love for Daddy. The Hokage, however, hummed thoughtfully and continued reading to the kids on his lap. This time, I paid attention, and this time, he skipped the childish sound effects.

Daddy himself picked us up from the Hokage's office, mere seconds after our village's leader finished describing the painless death of the missing-nin and how Naruto had brought peace to the village. He sounded slightly wistful, so I made a point of hugging him before darting over to latch onto Daddy's leg. No matter how endearing little girls' kisses were, I refused to give them to anyone (including Kakashi. There had been one frustrating event with Kurenai that had sealed the problem before it began. Plus, there had been a point in time when I hadn't been related to my father. Kissing him now would be, well, enough said).

Kato was rather more slobbery with his goodbye, having accepted my explanation of a grandfather as a desirable thing, and skipped to our father's other pant leg. The Hokage raised an eyebrow, but he was smiling as if we were passably cute. We were more than that, and he knew it. "Thank you for watching my children, Hokage-sama," Daddy said.

The older man's eyes wrinkled at the corners. "You should thank Kana-chan for her determination. I haven't read to a child since my own were young. Perhaps I should do this more often."

Kato grinned under his mask—he had loved that story, and I would be hearing it for days on end—and nodded happily. "Bye, Grandfather!" he chirped.

Hiruzen's expression changed, but Daddy was already jumping out of the window. "Whee!" yelled Kato.

Daddy tossed us onto his back without any visible effort and landed smoothly on a rooftop. "Do you two want to go home?"

I cocked my head.

"Nooo, we wanna go to the training ground with the big rock," my brother whined, hair melding into Daddy's as a breeze went by. I reached up to pat my own hair, relieved to find it was still in its short ponytail. Oh, the small miracles in life.

"Kana-chan?"

I snuggled into his vest. "Will you read the words on the rock to me?"

He never would. Perhaps it was cruel to even ask, but I was his curious daughter and he knew I spent countless precious minutes there, tracing the names and trying to recognize syllables.

"Not today."

I asked every time, and each day I liked to imagine a sliver of the bottomless sadness fell away. "Some day," he promised, and I nearly fell off his shoulder.

"Can we have ice cream for dessert tonight?" I added hastily, almost tripping over the words.

Daddy laughed. "If you're really good, I'll take you out on a run."

I buried my face in his neck, grinning uncontrollably. I was disconcerted by the reaction—since when did expressions control my emotions? "Okay," I mumbled into the smooth cloth, and then the realization hit. I had never heard Daddy laugh before. Sure, he snorted at our antics sometimes. Had I forgotten how young he was, how recently his life had shattered before his single remaining eye? "I love you, Daddy," I whispered softly enough that my own ears almost strained for the sound.

The arm supporting me squeezed me tighter.

We traveled to the Memorial Stone's training ground in leaps and bounds, Kato giggling all the way. I mulled over The Tale of the Utterly Gutsy Ninja, focusing on the scene the Hokage had emphasized. It had been the first time the protagonist had caught up with the man who had stolen an important scroll, and it hadn't gone well. For starters, Naruto had known the man. That had been the fatal flaw in my statement. The man had been a faithful ninja of the Leaf—a jōnin—but what of lies, of implantation, of resentment?—and he'd had the gall not to state why he would betray his own people. He'd just done it. It was remarkably parallel to a certain clan's story, only theirs was not yet written out.

The temptation to use an editor's red pen would be recurrent, but frankly, I held no such liberty. I was three. Knowledgeable, yes. Part of this world, but by no means futilely optimistic about "changing" anything. (Kakashi had only recently stopped "changing" his kids. Kids.)

Daddy tossed us onto a pile of moss and started a somewhat terrifying game of chase. We squealed and ran for the trees—except, I could hear fire and earth jutsu. Kato noticed them, too. "Let's go watch a ninja fight!"

"Let's not," I countered. "We tried that when Daddy was gone overnight, remember?"

It had turned out that Anko, who'd been our last-minute babysitter, had not been pleased. She dragged us back to the house by our ears and tied us up. When she noticed I was still gloating at our sneaky ninja prowess, she summoned her favorite snake. Which would be the one that considered me a pillow. Which was no longer a fair observation, since it had tripled in size. Anko told us that was due to all the naughty children it ate. I had swallowed back the retort that Pakkun had been the one to find us (not Anko), but Kato burst into a vague sort of guilty tears. That might have explained why I'd still been tied up when Daddy got home. Honestly, half of the trouble we got into was Kato's fault. The trouble we should have gotten into was purely my department.

Anyway.

When Daddy caught up to his little blue streaks, he tickled them into giggle monsters and handed them their tiny tantōs. Kato had fallen in love with his immediately. I privately did not think mine was half as awesome as Guwuh, not even when I could win most of our "cool sword fights." At least the tantō came more naturally than thrown weapons did.

I was ahead for now, but I knew that one day, his talent for weapons would beat out mine, and our battles would eventually use the same scale as my games with an older Shika. Until then, I would practice my useless determination. I'd work to gain skill. I just wished I were some sort of prodigy . . .

We didn't get ice cream for supper, but some ninja had invited himself over for supper. He wasn't one of the usual crowd. Daddy didn't even seem upset to find a stranger slicing vegetables into a wok. I was.

"Hewwo," I said sweetly. "Who are you?"

Kato had no such inhibitions. "Grandfather!" he yelled in delight, running forward to hug the man's—hollow-sounding?—leg.

I frowned. I'd warned Kato that we could only adopt two grandfathers, and that I wanted to pick the second one. Getting mad at my brother wouldn't help ("You didn't know who he was, Kana-chan! I did"), so I listened as Daddy introduced his children to his apparent friend: Kosuke Maruboshi. Kosuke-san nodded a hello and continued wading through the mess of ingredients and lack of spices that was our kitchen.

I set the table. Daddy made tea. Kato's mouth just kept going. Well, at least the man's eyes sparkled every time "Grandfather" was mentioned.

Dinner conversation took a different turn, however, when all our new grandparent did was talk about the weather and improvements after the war. "Your children are fortunate that your name will bring them respect."

I chewed on my lip, certain that I was missing the gist of their intense stares.

But hey, kids can only understand so much, right?

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~So, yes, I suppose I am continuing this. I hope you don't mind the sketchy, unreliable narration, 'cause it's not likely to change. It will, however, mature.

For the record, Kana is the elder of the twins. Kato is the younger one.

Ideas and comments are welcomed. Weird ideas and predictions preferred. Don't expect an update for a while, as I'm going to college and will be unreachable. There will be another chapter, though. Some things are just too fun to write.

Replies to C1's guest reviewers: Ripplefish (It was a good dream, and thank you for encouraging me to), SoInLoveWithThis (Well, um, life? Yeah. But I have been revising, and that takes more energy than I anticipated. Yuck.)

Update 1/27/17: Chapter has been edited.

Thanks for reading!