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Chapter Ten

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Kato's chakra refused to unlock. It was, obviously, a major blow to him and Daddy. They went to every specialist in the village—even to Uchiha Yasahiro, a quarter-blooded Uchiha medic whose Sharingan was too weak for combat but too good at observing to limit to the clan. Yasahiro's ancient voice repeated the other doctors' theories with confidence born of weathering all four Hokages' rule: Kato's tenketsu were tiny. Oh, he had ample chakra pathways. Yes, he had a decent reserve of chakra.

Yasahiro's hawk-like eyes turned on me. "Well now," she said. "She's different."

"Kana-chan had no trouble unlocking her chakra."

"That's likely, since she did that at least a year ago. Even your Sharingan should have noticed, Kaka-baka."

Daddy stiffened. The wizened Uchiha cackled. "Obito-kun was a chatty boy about his eyes. More observant than you. But, you. Girl. Waka-baka."

I exchanged glances with Daddy. This conversation would be buried in this room, we decided. "What have you been doing with your chakra?"

I put my stories together. The day I officially sensed my chakra, my first jutsu. The henges were right out. "There was something with leaves when we visited the Academy—"

"Don't lie, Waka-baka. Elaborate explanations are always lies."

"So Kato's okay, and you're making up the rest of this up?"

The Sharingan whirled, two sets of tomoes meeting my level gaze. She smiled. The Uchihas were known for ageless beauty, but either age or her non-Uchiha blood had stolen Yasahiro's. Her smile greatly resembled a gargoyle's grimace, albeit with less malice. "Aa, you're Sakumo's, all right. Now tell the truth."

"I did," I insisted. I wasn't lying, and as a knowledgable person, she ought to have recognized that liars are only truly offended when the truth is spurned. She didn't. Her eyes narrowed and she stalked toward me with the natural grace of one who is too proud to use a cane. Her left hand glowed green. Even Madara used a cane, I reflected, and really, she can't be that much younger than he. The hand hovered over my head unnervingly. I flinched.

Yasahiro snorted. "Don't you complain about my chakra, little Waka-baka. I was trained by Tobirama himself to assassinate sensor-nins." Her chakra clouding through my head wasn't exactly the best emphasis for her point. It was hard to think—impossible to relax.

A long, long time ago, before I had found myself in a new body, I had been able to feel chakra. Or rather, while I hadn't had chakra back then, the mental process was still eerily similar.

Imagine, I would have explained the process from back then, that there is a color in a part of your body, say, your arm. Your arm is a beautiful, vibrantly blinding shade of yellow. You'll, and I would have frowned. This is a bad explanation. I usually just concentrate on tension or a bad feeling and imagine it traveling through my body. Once I get it out, it stays out.

Here, with real chakra, "pushing it out" had only gone as far as chakra boiling just underneath my skin. Emitting chakra was an experiment I'd chosen to reserve for later years—Wildcat had shared a story of a young Hyūga learning the family Eight Trigrams Palms Revolving Heaven, once. She had been exceptional at all things control, and they'd had to scrape parts of her off a wall. I trusted Wildcat's helpful anecdotes about as far as I could throw the man, but other ANBU had mentioned elemental training in much the same light.

But to return to my earlier point, manipulating and sensing chakra used a rather smug portion of my imagination. This portion had controlled how I viewed my insides for a significant chunk of my life. It was currently screaming its lungs out because it had no idea why a foreign, uncontrollable substance was suddenly in residence.

Apparently Yasahiro had lost her touch.

As if she was reading my thoughts, Yasahiro rapped me on the head. "Quit influencing my chakra," she barked. "Honestly, the nerve," she continued under her breath. "Up until that clan heir midget, or heavens forbid, that pretty-boy Namikaze, I haven't felt the like from such a—" I strained my ears as she trailed off. I still could hear her heart beating. How softly was she murmuring if my ears couldn't pick it up? "That's right, brat, use that special chakra. And deactivate it, since you've heard me. Good brat."

She patted me on the head and withdrew. "Kaka-baka, leave a shadow clone and come with me."

Daddy complied. I quickly climbed into the clone's arms. With my face buried in his neck, my eavesdropping would be moderately discreet. Yasahiro took them to an office at the end of the hall. She slammed its door shut.

"What did the door ever do to you?" Daddy asked mildly.

"What did women ever do to you?" Yasahiro snapped, before huffing and allowing the top of a desk to be graced with her presence (a woman like her did not merely sit). "How many doctors have you taken him to?"

"Five," Daddy admitted.

"And how many of them saw past your lie about chakra infusion?"

"One," he muttered.

"And what was his first question?"

Under his mask, I like to imagine Daddy's face grew bright red, because there was only one decent answer to Yasahiro's question.

Unlocking chakra is supposed to be accomplished through meditation and then by focusing one's chakra into a hand seal. If that does not work, one of the child's parents usually injects his own chakra into the child's body to, ah, jumpstart the system. The parent's chakra has roughly the same effect as training wheels on a bike, which is why most ninjas prefer to let their kids suffer through it alone. Civilian children, therefore, are at a disadvantage.

The chakra boost only works with close genetic matches. Daddy hadn't wanted Konoha's medical field doubting his (rather apparent) paternity.

"You're an idiot," Yasahiro agreed. "Anyone with half a brain could link their chakra to yours. Did they all send you home with orders to jumpstart your son? Idiots." She scowled (again, the inflection carried into her voice). "Who's their mother?"

Daddy was silent. Yasahiro glared at him.

"I'm the best medic you're going to find, what with Tsunade gone for the hills. Boy brat's chakra is close enough that yours should have triggered it, so I'm assuming that they have a bloodline limit hidden away somewhere. The girl brat, definitely." The senescent woman leaned forward and huffed. "Definitely because I know exactly what it is."

"Oh, really?"

"If you, Kakashi. Found an Uchiha." Wood, most likely the desk, groaned painfully. "So help me I am going to murder that stupid girl."

"She's already dead," Daddy said smoothly, "and it's a village secret." He didn't deny it? He didn't deny it? "I'll tell you she wasn't an Uchiha, though."

"I was the first Uchiha born in this village," scoffed Yasahiro, letting go of the desk, "and let me tell you, there are no secrets I can't find out." Daddy's breathing remained unintimidated. "If the mother was not one of my clan, I don't what public enemy you wanted to impress. You unlocked your chakra at a young age, too, didn't you?"

"Less than a year."

"Well, like father, like daughter. I wouldn't be surprised if your daughter began pushing chakra to her ears in the womb, what with how ingrained that habit is. She hardly even uses chakra for her little hearing stunt. Do you know why, Kaka-baka?"

He admitted, "I have no idea."

"She filters a unique type of chakra to her brain. Can you guess what type?"

Daddy and I tensed.

"The closest match I have seen is the chakra we Uchiha use for the Sharingan. It could be a coincidence, since she doesn't have the Sharingan."

I don't? Well, shoot. All this fuss and nothing to show for it. Unless, of course, the esteemed Uchiha medic had missed a spot.

"If they're not Uchiha, I couldn't care less what she does with it, but," and here she must have conveyed a threat with her Sharingan, for even her voice didn't have enough ire to match what her face must have been doing, "I will check the mission records. If I find that one of ours was even outside the village four years ago, things will be unpleasant."

The clone I was lying on cinched his arms a bit tighter.

"Do you have a prognosis?" Daddy asked, very calmly.

"Let me get to it," she snapped. "Rude child. The girl and you both unlocked your chakra at an early age, and that's why your tenketsu are a normal size. Your son didn't get the memorandum. Unless you can get his mother to zap his chakra, he's going to require chakra therapy and a few months for it to kick in. Once he unlocks his chakra, he'd better never stop using it."

"Thank you. Is that all, Uchiha-sama?"

Yasahiro grinned wickedly. "I take tea at three o'clock on Thursdays. I doubt your daughter's going to learn manners under present company."

The words Daddy grumbled under his breath as he came to fetch us were not worth repeating. "Even if you had the Sharingan," he growled, "I wouldn't let you near an old hag like that. Not even Danzō is that blunt. Or ugly, for that matter."

"Danzō?" Kato wondered.

"What did she tell you?" I asked.

Daddy raised an eyebrow at me, ignoring Kato's question, before shaking his head. "I'd say you're losing your touch, but she did have a privacy seal on the door. Kato-kun should be fine with a bit of therapy. And you, Kana-chan." I cocked my head. "I don't want you hanging around any Uchiha boys for the rest of your life, do you hear me? And don't accept any eyes."

Why on earth would I do that? I wondered briefly. Because the best chakra specialist in the village thinks you're Uchiha, you ninny. You could probably fully control a Sharingan, if that's the case.

Why, just imagine in a few years, when only one Uchiha is left, and—I launched myself at Daddy. My thoughts are being mean again!

"That's right," Daddy told my hair. "You're going to die an old maid."

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"Hate. Running."

From his position beside me, Kato frowned. "Why, Kana-chan? You're really fast. Daddy said you have better stamina than me."

"I just do."

And I was going to stick with it and overcome my aching muscles and prove that . . . urgh. One of these days I was going to give up.

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Chōji blinked at me as he finished polishing off yet another bag of chips. "What do you think of the new schedule?" he said through a mouth saturated by crumbs.

I sighed. "If you don't swallow first, I can't understand you."

Chōji began to comply, but his clarification was muffled by another handful.

"Troublesome," I answered, staring up at the cloudless sky. Its shade of sunset pink was nearly as dull as Shikamaru's favorite clouds.

"So why are you wearing Kana-chan's old clothes?"

Because they're mine, I cackled, but I kept Shika's bland expression on my face. I had been disguised as Shika for a good hour, using his cloud-watching spot to rethink my place in the universe until Chōji had showed up. The real Shikamaru was off eating dinner. I was supposed to be eating it with him, actually. "One of their dogs decided to eat me," I explained. "Kana-chan told it that I taste like pineapple, and it wanted to know how that tastes."

Chōji accepted the story at face value and munched his way through our companionable silence while I thanked genetics for a voice that could mimic Shika's.

Thus far, my strangely solid henge covered hair, height, color, face shape, and differing lengths of toes. Changing the shape of my hands had been deemed nigh impossible, and now I was thinking of a new difficulty: internal organs. Would a larger henge require a stronger heart and more veins? Henging into an adult would take a much deeper voice box, and I had no idea what that would entail. Definitely a medical encyclopedia.

Perhaps the voice would be best done with a genjutsu. Or perhaps I should never be let loose with a genjutsu ever, ever again.

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"It's not fair. How come she can use her chakra?"

I glowered at the untouched training log. "It's not fair. How come he can aim a kunai without beheading himself?"

Daddy looked up from his chakra theory book. "It's nice to know you think so highly of each other. Kato-kun, unlocking chakra is not the same as using it."

I kicked one of the despicable kunai. It sailed right through a knot in the fence. Fortunately, my father didn't appear to notice. "He hasn't beheaded himself yet," I said primly. The guy was observant. He'd notice if I kept throwing with one less kunai.

"Of course not."

Whereas you are going to be giving yourself some interesting haircuts later in life. I rolled to my feet and plodded over to collect the training weapons from the pockmarked fence, the scraggly grass, and my personal favorite: Daddy's hand, which had kept me from maiming my brother. "Aren't you late for Kato-kun's appointment?" I asked.

Daddy smiled at me, a smile that revealed just how many more fangirls he'd have if he never wore a mask. "I only have a few pages left. I doubt anyone will mind."

If by "few," he meant "a good half the book," then yes, the Hyūga medic's "not minding" would turn into "here, have some rat poison while you wait." Again. This was why I stayed home with Pakkun while the rest of my family went to therapy. I huffed. "You're an hour late already."

Daddy agreed, "That's right," and hopped onto the top of the training log.

"You'll be late for supper."

"Oh, will we? That's right. I suppose we'd better not go, th—" He looked toward the book, now halfway across the lawn. He looked at the ever-innocent Kato. He looked at his errant daughter. "Where were you aiming, by the way?"

My arm ached. Note to self: ow. Boosting muscles with chakra hurts. "The book," I admitted.

Daddy shrugged and hopped to the ground, left arm flopping uselessly beside him. "Well, at the very least, the Hyūga will be happy. Although I would ask that you refrain from hitting chakra points in the future." He bit his right thumb and summoned Pakkun.

"You look a bit green," the dog commented once my menfolk were gone. "Did you eat an ANBU's cooking?"

I wish. Try having insanely good luck negative four percent of the time. Then try convincing your father that it's not just another one of your lies. "I'll be back in an hour."

Pakkun's eyes narrowed lazily. "What's got you so riled up?"

"Belly rub, bath, and brush. Deal?"

Pakkun sighed in selfish contentment. "My little pup is all grown up."

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Time rolled by and even steamrolled me a time or two, but it wasn't too long after when I made the trip to my favorite source of grandfatherly wisdom (sorry, Maruboshi, I'm just not in love with food). The chūnin secretary glared at me—curious, since the Yamanaka clan as a whole loved children—and waved me into the Hokage's office.

"Good afternoon, Wakana-chan. I'm afraid I'm rather busy at the moment."

Grandfather tossed a small stack of cards at me, cards that were all either blue, purple, or red. They had words on their fronts, words copied in the fastidious handwriting of Grandfather himself. "It's a matching game," the Hokage explained. "Groups of three."

Ninja games were violent, yes. They were supposed to help us acclimatize to our future lives. I must say, though. I preferred the violence to this cold, sinking feeling in the bottom of my stomach.

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~Baka: essentially means "kind of stupid." From what I can tell, different regions of Japan view it with varying levels of offensiveness. In most cases, it's used as a friendly insult. I'm really hoping it's not inappropriate. If so, it's leaving this story.

Good luck guessing the game! I'm told I'm a queen of unintelligible phrasing. If you know any of my fellow rulers, feel free to recommend their stories.

Did you know that over four hundred people received an alert for this chapter? Whoa. I should probably stop quell the thoughts of prank chapters that are churning through my head. You know me, right? Wait, you say you know my Self Insert? Got me there. Depending on how honestly I write. I'm sure I'm much too mature to do anything, of course.

To guest reviewer Yonit: I must admit curiosity as to how you received an alert . . . but yeah, you have an account. I was too chicken to PM the username Yonit, so thanks for reviewing. Glad you liked it.

To guest reviewer Hanna: I know who you are. Cackle.

Really, though. You guest readers leave amazing reviews, and I thank you all from the warm and gooey part of my heart. I'd just rather not have conversations without PM's.

Finally, everybody say Happy Birthday to my anonymous FFN-buddy! I suspect he reads the reviews, so you might make him smile. Your choice, of course. :)