And so, life chugged onwards.

Days went by with my pounding migraines increasing in frequency and intensity, and more often than not, I was waking up a glowing mess. I didn't bother calling out for Imiki anymore, resolving to keep a roll of bandages next to the little lamp in my closet. By the end of the week, the roll would be all used up. I still kept up my stubborn cold front with my aunt—I wasn't letting go of our discussion from a few days ago.

As for my spiritual blockage, I could only hope it was getting better and that the fact that I was starting to remember flashes from my dreams upon waking up meant the fog was slowly clearing. I still wasn't any less determined to figure out what did it to me, though—I couldn't have this happening again.

But today in particular, I didn't have time to worry about spiritual blockage, for once. Today was a sparring day.

The younger years in the academy didn't spar as often as the older, soon-to-be-promoted ones, but we still had a mandatory number of matches to complete before the end of the school year, and today was one of the days we would be randomly matched up during class to fight to the death—well, fine, not death, but surrender—with a peer.

These were also my least favourite classes.

While I may have been used to sparring with Shuu from Imiki's training, I had been determined to stay out away from the critical eye of crabby old Hyouroku ever since he first told me off for improper stance during our last sparring class. Little did the jerk know that my stance wasn't improper, but simply not standard.

What I thought was that as long as it sufficiently beat the other guy into submission, whatever style I decided to use was acceptable, but apparently there were restrictions for beating people up even when you were fighting for your life.

My class and I stood in lines, obediently waiting to be paired up and ordered, because not only were we required to punch and kick each other until the other was incapacitated, we were also require to make a whole display of it, punching and kicking each other while our fellow classmates watched.

"Can't wait to be publicly humiliated again," I muttered to myself as Aburame Shino was paired off with a girl named Tachibana Mio. Naruto next to me was busy picking at something under his nails, never one to keep still, but he nodded along to my bitter mutterings. Last month, I'd been paired with a Morishima Takako, and she'd kicked my ass in seconds. It was wholly embarrassing and my teacher did not miss up on the opportunity to go after me for not practicing enough.

Hyouroku's pointed finger finally landed on Naruto, who jolted to attention but continued to fidget in place. "Uzumaki Naruto, you will be sparring with Uchiha Sasuke," he informed him in his usual holier-than-thou drawl, to which Naruto frowned and shot me a sidelong look. I knew that Naruto wasn't particularly fond of Sasuke, but all I could do was shrug minutely at him before Hyouroku had moved onto me.

"Asagiri, with Haruno Sakura."

Oh, shit. Was Sakura a skilled taijutsu user? I couldn't even remember anymore. Hyouroku seemed to misinterpret my confused squinting as lack of comprehension, and he let out a mighty sigh before bending over to get on my level, stating in a condescendingly loud tone, "I said, Asagiri Futaba with Haruno Sakura. Understood?"

I looked back at my teacher, not daring to glare at him though I very much so wanted to. "Yes, sensei."

Once we were all paired off and dismissed, I quickly found Sakura's pink head of hair and exchanged a polite smile with her before taking my position next to her. We weren't really friends, and outside of kunoichi classes we didn't really interact, but Sakura still smiled back at me with genuine friendliness as I approached.

"Hyouroku-sensei is awfully hard on you, don't you think?" Sakura whispered as said teacher got the first pair of kids ready.

I hummed unsurely. "I think he just thinks I'm a troublemaker," I murmured back.

She frowned. "I understand Naruto, but you don't usually get into trouble…"

He seemed to treat Naruto with animosity as well, however thinly-veiled it was, and I'd assumed that my closeness to Naruto made me a threat by association in his eyes. It made school life a little more difficult, and I'd definitely done my share of complaining about it to Shuu, but the most I could do in retaliation was to excel in his face.

The first match concluded with something similar to a roundhouse kick dealt to the poor losing kid's face, and Hyouroku called the match, dismissing the pair to the sidelines after they formed the seal of reconciliation.

"Next, Asagiri and Haruno," Hyouroku barked, eyes narrowing on me. I warily made my way with Sakura onto the field, standing opposite of her.

Somewhere in the crowd, a distinctly Naruto-like voice called out, "Go, Futaba!" I met the highlighter-blonde boy's eyes briefly, the kid wearing his signature beam at full force, and grinned back.

Then came Ino's voice, "Ganbatte, Sakura!" Sakura flushed upon hearing her own name, but looked a little more confident.

The warm fuzzies of friendship touched my heart, truly, but then Hyouroku shifted his steely gaze to me, and I was forced to turn away.

"Make the seal," he commanded gruffly.

I replicated the seal of confrontation we'd gone over so many times, taking a few breaths to focus my thoughts and energy. Sakura mirrored me, making the seal with a similar determined shine in her eyes.

You won't be publicly humiliated again, Futaba, I thought to myself. Don't give that Hyouroku the satisfaction.

"Start!"

Sakura was quick to get into my space, but luckily, this was just what I needed. She lunged forward with a fist clenched tightly, aiming for my face, but I intercepted her arm at the forearm and took another swift step inward, putting her off-balance.

The key to the style of taijutsu Imiki had drilled into me was fluidity. Bending with force, but not giving in to pressure. Like water.

So I bent with the force of her arm, but I used her momentum to my advantage, fingers tightening around her wrist and pulling her forward. She stumbled, green eyes widening as she tripped right into my other outstretched palm. I couldn't help feeling a spike of remorse as she let out a stunned wheeze when my palm slammed into her chest, but there was no time to let her recover.

I let go of her other arm, making a grab for her neck so I could put her in a headlock, but she recovered faster than I'd anticipated and wrestled herself out of my space. She retreated to a distance where I couldn't reach her with my arms, then went back in, this time going in for a kick. I could see it in the way her body shifted its centre of balance.

Biting down on my cheek, I dropped to the floor as her leg shot upwards, deciding to try to sweep the other leg, but she was faster, slamming her foot down on my back when her kick was unsuccessful. I let out a pained gasp as she undoubtedly left a bruise on my left shoulder, and with some uncoordinated effort, I rolled free of her foot and sprung to my feet. I couldn't afford to give her space; Sakura was clearly more effective from a distance. So I leapt up and lurched forward, minimizing the distance between us again.

The ambient sounds of the training grounds faded to a buzz that rung in my ears as she made jab after jab, and I made block after block, waiting for her to lose steam and slip up.

Unfortunately, she seemed to be doing the same. She relentlessly targeted my chest, sides, face, and solar plexus, trying to catch me off guard, but enough training with Imiki ensured that I was fast enough to redirect her blows so that they never made contact.

Centre line, centre line. Keep your centre covered. Drop the elbow.

Then I saw it. The opening.

She was panting hard, but I saw her rear up for a kick. I struck as fast as I could, stepping forward anti to her kick and turning my body out of the way, and with all the force I could muster, I slammed both palms into her ribs.

My sting had the desired effect, and Sakura stumbled backwards, the air knocked out of her. No time to stop now—I shuffled forward with one smooth movement and dealt one swift kick to her gut. She squeaked with whatever little air she had left and fell onto her bottom, and just when I thought I'd be able to go in with the finishing stance, she proved me wrong yet again. As soon as I extended an arm to hold her down, she grabbed it and pulled me. I was yanked down onto the dirt, letting out a startled "oof!" as I made contact. Sakura was a determined little bugger.

She rolled so she was on top, and I realized quickly that this match would be over soon if I didn't do something, fast.

I gritted my teeth, slipping an arm free of her straddle and twisting my entire body to send my palm into her face. With the time I'd bought, I squirmed free and clawed my way back to my feet. Faster, Futaba. Faster! It's not enough!

She was on me again, and ready to send more jabs, but I stopped her punch with my forearm, and with all the adrenaline in my body, my other arm shot forward to twist her fist downward. The arm that had caught her punch initially lunged forth, fist clenched, and it caught her. Square in the chin.

It was enough to knock her off-kilter again, and I pulled her by the arm so she lost balance, this time not settling for getting her away from me—I followed through and managed to pin her to the ground. I straddled her, breathing hard, and pointed a fist down at her, my other hand secured around her shoulder.

We stared at each other for a long moment, both breathing hard.

It was over.

"Asagiri wins," Hyouroku's voice announced, and the ambient noises that had faded out quickly came back in full force.

I dimly registered Naruto's cheering, and I couldn't help the grin that broke out across my face as I stood up, offering a hand down to Sakura. "Good match!" She really was a formidable opponent, and I could only chalk up my victory to the fact that she was too methodical with her moves. A memory suddenly came flooding back to me—she was great with the theory side of shinobi business, but not as great with the execution. Recovering this memory felt like pressure being released in my ears, except in my brain.

A lot of fighting was instinctive, and I had learned early on in my own training that I couldn't just stop and think things through. At least, not all the time.

Sakura took my hand, but guilt seized me for the second time when I saw the genuine disappointment in her eyes. It sunk in then—aw man, I'd just beaten up a six-year-old. There was nothing to feel proud of. I searched for any anger or resentment she might hold in her gaze, thankfully finding none, but the guilt of beating up a kid still burned.

I tried to convey my apology silently, but she didn't meet my eyes as we performed the reconciliation seal.

Hyouroku's sandals entered my downcast line of vision, and puzzled, I looked up at our teacher. Apparently he wasn't done with us.

"Sakura, your technique was solid, but you rely too much on pre-taught combinations and methods." Hyouroku dismissed the other girl with his clinical criticism, but his eyes narrowed when he turned to me. What had I done this time? "Asagiri, your technique was sloppy, all over the place, and confirmed something I've been suspecting for a while." If possible, his eyes turned even sharper. "You fight with an Ame-specific style of taijutsu."

Ame? I blinked up at him dumbly, and the murmurs of my classmates replaced the ambient noise.

As in...Amegakure? The Village Hidden in Rain?

Try as I might, I couldn't recall the significance of the term. Or why it warranted being glared at so harshly by our teacher, or why it caused my classmates to suddenly start whispering among themselves.

Imiki had been teaching me an Ame-specific taijutsu style?

Why?

Hyouroku continued speaking, ignoring my befuddled expression. "You would do well to start listening in class and following the style we teach here in Konoha, Asagiri. After all, you will eventually serve as a kunoichi of Konohagakure, yes?"

When he paused, I realized he expected an answer of some sort, and I nodded, my mouth dry.

"We do not use underhanded strikes to fight our opponents. There is a code of honour we live by as shinobi of this village, and you are expected to follow it. Do I make myself clear?" Hyouroku stated, deadly calm.

By underhanded, he must have been referring to the strikes to Sakura's face and the numerous times I'd tripped her. I resisted the urge to scream, because those weren't underhanded by any means—we'd be out there fighting for our lives one day, and we'd still have to adhere to the rules of taijutsu?

But I swallowed my words, the sheer multitude of eyes on me right now rendering me nervous beyond all relief. All of my classmates were watching me, staring me down—this was the opposite of what I had always wanted, to stay out of the spotlight. "Y-yes, sensei," I breathed.

He gave me a curt nod. "Next pair?"

I trudged back to the sidelines, standing next to Naruto. Naruto gave Hyouroku the stink eye when the teacher was distracted with getting the next sparring pair ready to fight. "I don't get it," he said, nudging me. "You still won, right? That's awesome!"

"Yeah," I mumbled. "But there are rules. And I broke some, I guess."

Naruto made a noise of disbelief. "Whatever. Don't let that old geezer get to you, Futaba, you were cool out there!"

I broke a small smile at that. "Thanks."

Naruto helped lighten my mood as the next few matches went by, making funny faces and crudely imitating our teacher whenever his back was turned. I had to suppress my snorts as best I could, because god knew how much I did not want to piss off Hyouroku for a second time today.

Eventually, Naruto's turn rolled around.

"Uchiha Sasuke and Uzumaki Naruto!"

Naruto left my side, and I gave him a thumbs up, wincing as my bad shoulder ached with the action. I'd have to get that looked at later.

Everyone's favourite moody duckbutt took the side of field opposite Naruto, and I noticed with disbelief that it seemed like he already had fangirls in our class. Fangirling? Over a kid?

Sasuke had schooled his expression to look cool, clinical, and professional, but I still noticed the tension in his frame. He was nervous, even if he tried to hide it, and I was pretty sure I knew why, having seen it a lot in Shuu. He wanted to prove himself.

Then, eyes flitting back to the opposite side of the field, I saw Naruto's scowl stubbornly affixed on his face and I knew he was letting all the attention Sasuke was getting get to him. I guess I'll have to be a one-man entourage. "Yeah, Naruto!" I cheered, rising above the numerous murmurs of Sasuke's name with my raised voice. Hyouroku shot me a sidelong glare for the shortest of moments but I still noticed it.

Bitter old man. I'd find out what his deal was later.

This matchup was definitely more tense, and it was pretty clear the conjured-up fighting spirit on Naruto's end was one-sided. Sasuke retained his best poker face as they performed the confrontation seal.

"It'll be no match at all," I heard a voice whisper behind me. I resisted the urge to turn around and see who exactly it was.

"I dunno, my dad says that Naruto kid is dangerous...maybe it will be," another one whispered back. "What do you think he's capable of?"

"What's a monster capable of, anyway…? Oi, you think Hyouroku-sensei would let Uzumaki kill him?" I almost rolled my eyes at the idea of Naruto killing anybody, but paid no mind to them for the rest of their hushed conversation.

Just a few moments after I'd tuned out, though, Hyouroku finally looked up from his clipboard, silencing the crowd of kids. "Settle down, this isn't a circus show. Now, start!"

There was a blur of movement so fast my eyes couldn't even focus on it, and then an oof before a cloud of dust exploded into the air. I coughed, scrubbing the grit out of my eyes, all the while wondering if my fight with Sakura had been this messy. Well, I was covered in grubby dirt stains…

The dust finally settled. It was over.

"Uchiha Sasuke wins!"

Sasuke clambered off of Naruto, nonchalantly patting down his trousers, leaving Naruto sputtering on the ground.

My heart sank. I couldn't say that I was expecting anything different, but seeing Naruto's face burn up with a combination of embarrassment and anger made me uneasy. The contempt in his bright blue eyes reminded me far too much of their relationship in canon…

But then, defying all expectations, Sasuke turned back to Naruto and offered a hand. He did not smile, nor did he say anything, but his action spoke louder than any of his words would've.

At least I wasn't the only one flabbergasted. The girls a few feet from me immediately burst into frenzied whispers while the other kids that had been chittering around me quieted.

Uchiha Sasuke, extending a gesture of courtesy towards Uzumaki Naruto?

Even Naruto himself was totally caught off-guard, his facial expression having run the whole gamut from angry to confused to pure shock. Eyeing Sasuke suspiciously, like he was about to be pranked, he slowly took the Uchiha boy's hand and let himself be pulled up to his feet, dropping it like it was on fire as soon as he physically could.

Even as Hyouroku moved on to his closing comments towards the two boys and the crowd had already began discussing who the next match would be, the odd, seemingly out of character interaction stuck in my mind. Maybe I'd never given Sasuke enough credit as he was and just assumed he was inherently assholey. The arrogance was definitely there, no, but there was more to him. I connected my encounter with him by the lakeside to the few times he'd butted in on Shuu and my hangouts to play a game of Asagiri Speed, and then to the water fight with Naruto, and finally to what had happened today.

The more I thought about it, the more it made sense. Maybe there still was hope for Sasuke after all.


And then came my favourite part of the day. Kunoichi classes.

Today was one of the blissfully relaxed classes, in stark contrast to the intense morning we'd all had, but only because next class was the mini-exam on the little ikebana we'd covered so far. I remember spotting Ino looking awfully sure of herself throughout this entire unit and wondered pitifully if she'd tutor me—and then I shook myself back to reality and realized the very alive, very vocal teenage side of myself would die of embarrassment if I really went out of my way to get help from a kindergartener.

Hinata was braiding my hair, humming softly, and I was staring into space, letting myself relax and enjoy the delightfully mundane situation I was in. Didn't get to indulge in normal things very often anymore…

But as a natural born overthinker, my thoughts inevitably drifted back to Enma and my past life. I wondered if my blockage was also lessening the frequency of my dream meets with the god, because I hadn't seen him all week. At least the haze finally seemed to be letting up—soon we'd be back in business, baby.

"I-it's done," Hinata informed me, releasing my hair. I admired the neatly woven braid with wide eyes, wondering if my fingers had ever been so coordinated in any of my lives, but a thought struck me that brought a frown back to my face. Hinata, who was quite sensitive to others' mood changes, as it turned out, noticed immediately and wilted a bit. "D-do you not…l-like it?"

I let go of the braid, frantically waving my hands in a dismissive motion. "No, no! That's not it at all! It's very pretty, Hinata-chan!" Hinata doesn't know how much power she truly has. "It's just that…in battle, ponytails and braids are pretty easy to grab, right?"

Hinata worried her lip. "T-that's true…"

"But at the same time, my hair is crazy messy and pretty long, so how do I keep it out of the way without it becoming a weak point?" I wasn't like my late mother of this world or Imiki, even, both of which could fight extremely tough opponents without knocking a hair out of place.

She tapped her chin, drawing her knees up to shrink in on herself as she thought, and a few seconds later, her light eyes lit up with realization. "I have an idea."

I let her hands free my hair from the braid, carding through the unruly strands before tugging it into a high ponytail. She continued to twirl my ponytail, but that was all I could feel facing forward, so I had no choice but to sit tight and leave my hair's fate in her little hands.

It didn't take long before the tugging ceased. "Done!"

I reached behind my head instantly, feeling for where all the hair had gone because I definitely couldn't feel it brushing my neck anymore. I blinked as my hand touched a bun sitting on top of my head. Huh...it kept the hair out of my face and didn't serve as a particular vulnerability. I'd never had the coordination to try bunning my hair myself, but maybe it was time to give it a try.

"How's t-that?" Hinata prodded, looking hopefully expectant.

I smiled at her, giving her an enthusiastic OK sign. "It's smart! I can't believe I haven't tried this before!"

Hinata giggled as I pretended to show off my new bun like a barbershop model, making over the top poses and facial expressions. "I-it suits you," she affirmed, looking pleased with herself. So cute.

I spent the remainder of class trying and failing miserably to weave Hinata's short hair into braids, cursing every time my fingers formed another knot, but the girl assured me it was fine every time (bless her heart). When the bell rang to dismiss us from class, I felt my mood drop as it always did whenever this time came around. It was time to go home and ignore Imiki again.

It wasn't that I didn't want to apologize, but I had to put my foot down this time—no matter how much Imiki guilted me over being upset with her, I still didn't see what I had done wrong in this situation. I thought I could trust Imiki, but how was I supposed to if she didn't trust me? Wasn't it understandable that I was upset?

I'm not being immature, right?

So instead of heading back home straight away, I sought out Shuu in the crowded hallways and dragged him along to my favourite roof-hopping area.

I hadn't realized that I'd left my hair up until I felt Shuu poke at it as we headed for the bluff. "Stop doing that," I grunted, angling my head away.

He touched the bun again. "It's so distracting, though. It's like a pork bun, but brown."

"Stop touching the bun!" I cupped my hands around my hair defensively, shooting a glare at my best friend. "One more poke and I'll get your hair into a bun, too. You'll look like a samurai from one of those dumb rental movies we watched last summer. Don't test me, I'll do it." I held my glare, hoping he didn't see through the fact that I had no idea how to bun hair.

To my relief, he simply held his hands up in surrender and rolled his eyes. "At least I'd make a cool samurai."

"Whatever, nerd," I scoffed before we came to the edge of the bluff. "Wanna race to the compound?"

As soon as I uttered the magic words, Shuu immediately took off, not even bothering to give me a proper response. I sputtered, shrieking protests as I readied my chakra and pushed off onto the first roof, tailing after him.

It was getting harder and harder to keep up with Shuu. The Uchiha training regime must have been paying off for him, because he touched down at the entrance of the compound a full three seconds before I did. And he made sure to flaunt it, too.

"Someone's out of shape," he teased. "Have you even been training lately?"

I rubbed down my legs, urging the faint glow away, and snapped back. "No, I haven't."

Shuu sensed the change in tone as soon as I spoke—I could hear it in his voice as he replied, "Why not?"

I shook my head, righting myself and looking straight ahead into the familiar neighbourhood of the compound. "I'm not speaking to Imiki-nee. She's being…" I struggled to find the words to fit my feelings, so I settled for a frustrated sigh. "Enough of that. Let's go eat, I'm starving."

Uchiha Shuu wasn't my best friend for nothing at this point—he knew when to leave things alone. Gone were the days of arguing and prying on either of our ends, thankfully—information always ended up being spilled to each other in the end. So he shrugged and led the way back to his house, where I was greeted warmly by Michiko and, surprisingly, the rarely-seen patriarch Taro. I then proceeded to eat my weight in Michiko's home-cooked food, ignoring the looks of disgust Shuu sent my way. I'd skipped breakfast this morning and every morning this week in my haste to get out of the apartment.

Michiko and Taro had vacated from the living room as soon as Shuu and I had taken over, so I was splayed out under the kotatsu like it was my own house. It could've been, for all the time I'd spent here throughout my life.

Shuu broke the comfortable silence, setting his chopsticks down. "I dunno if this helps or not, but my parents have been pretty weird lately, too," he said in a hushed, conspiratory tone. "One of our cousins died a few weeks ago—we didn't really know him that well or anything, so I'm alright. But since then, they've been going to these meetings without telling onee-san or me, and whenever I catch them talking, they stop."

I felt my brows draw together as I mulled over Shuu's words. "Imiki-nee's been disappearing randomly, too," I murmured.

"You think it's for the same thing?" Shuu suggested incredulously, leaning over with widened eyes.

Something didn't feel right. Something was urgently poking at the back of my mind, something that might have come back to me if my mind was clear of the haze, but whatever it was supposed to be, I could tell it wasn't good. "I don't know," I admitted honestly. It was a horrible feeling, not knowing. That same feeling had been keeping me on edge ever since the blockage first became an issue. It was hard to act like usual when you were being crushed under the vague feeling of everything's-gonna-go-to-shit-and-you-won't-even-see-it-coming.

Suddenly, voices could be heard in the next room over, and Shuu and I both jolted to attention. I could clearly identify Michiko and Taro's voices, but the third one was unfamiliar.

"Tairo-kun! It's been so long since you came to visit!" said Michiko. I exchanged looks with Shuu, who merely shrugged in return.

"Shouldn't you be off galavanting with the Force?" came Shuu's father's gruff voice, but there was no bite to his words, a warm familiarity radiating in his tone.

The third—Tairo—laughed good-naturedly, then followed up with, "I'm actually here on a favour for my old teammate. Is a little girl named Asagiri Futaba here?"

I jumped to my feet, jostling the dishes on the kotatsu. No wonder Tairo had sounded vaguely familiar, he was Imiki's old Uchiha teammate!

"What's going on?" Shuu hissed, stumbling to his feet as well.

"Imiki-nee sent her teammate after me," I muttered to myself in disbelief. I narrowed my eyes. First Waki, now Tairo. Why was she keeping such close tabs on me these days?

"Right this way!" Michiko bustled into the living room, the young man pictured in Imiki's old team photos closely in tow. I bristled, my fight-or-flight instincts kicking in.

Tairo greeted me with an easygoing grin, "Ah, Futaba-chan! Your auntie sent me on a special mission to take you home. The boss is a force to be reckoned with when she's mad, so we'd better hurry." He gestured for me to follow him out the door.

With the taste of bitter defeat on my tongue, I let myself get whisked away out of the compound, wondering just when this tiring feud with Imiki would come to an end.


I didn't even bother trying to maintain conversation with Tairo the way home, but he ended up giving up after a few tries at instigating an exchange. I simply let myself be carried in the Uchiha shinobi's arms as he leapt from rooftop to rooftop. It was almost nostalgic, the feeling of being carried in an adult's arms like this; it had been an awful long time since I'd been carried before I 'died' in my last life.

A vague memory of being carried along a bumpy path flashed in my mind as I thought this, but it vanished before it fully formed.

Tairo dumped me at my apartment's doorstep, knocking swiftly on the door for me. When Imiki cracked the door open, I averted my gaze from the lady and took to examining the very interesting patterns in the cement.

"Mission accomplished, boss," Tairo quipped with a mock-salute. "The girl is back safe and sound."

In my peripheral vision I saw Imiki's mouth remain pressed in a firm line. "Thanks, Tairo," she replied, opening the door a little wider in a silent order for me to step in. With an internal sigh, I trudged in past her form standing in the doorway and kicked off my sandals.

As I padded into the main area of the apartment, I heard Imiki and Tairo exchange a few words.

"So do I get that free dinner in return?"

"Nice try, but no. Your days of mooching off of me are over."

The door was slammed in Tairo's face promptly after, causing me to jolt a little in surprise, but even I couldn't help but snort a little in amusement when Tairo's whining could still be heard through the door.

Then Imiki walked away from the door and my mood sobered again instantly. I didn't really feel like talking right now, so I made for the hallway, but Imiki's voice stopped me. "Futaba, you're avoiding me, I know."

I didn't turn around. No shit, Sherlock.

Imiki, for once, seemed to be at a loss for words, making a few noises of frustration as she started and cut herself off. Then, finally, "You know, you're precious to me, Futaba. You're all I have left in this village."

Begrudgingly, I turned my head so I could at least see her face. She looked genuinely distraught, but still tried to keep it together, probably to seem strong for me. I met her gaze unsurely, which seemed to spur her on to continue speaking.

"I'm sorry that I haven't been completely honest with you...it was never my intention to alienate you from me. I just want what's best for you, Futaba-chan." She looked down at me with tired eyes, and something in me cracked at that moment, that same something that was holding my feet in place because the next thing I knew I was walking back towards Imiki and enveloping her in a hug.

Imiki took one second to react, returning the hug with even more fierceness. I sighed, the exhaustion sinking in. Being angry all week was really, really tiring. No wonder Gordon Ramsay seemed so stressed all the time.

Imiki's jacket had a soothing smell to it, one that made me relax instantly. I breathed it in contemplatively.

"You forgive me, right?" Imiki asked as she pulled away from the sudden hug.

I backed away, letting go of her sleeves. "Of course, Imiki-nee," I assured, the lie slipping easily from my lips. "I'm really sleepy now, though, so I'm going to bed."

With a renewed energy in her eyes, Imiki smiled and nodded at me. "Alright, good night, Futaba-chan."

"Night," I replied over my shoulder, letting the new piece of information I'd just acquired sink in as I went.

Why had I lied?

Well, the scent on Imiki's clothes was calming, familiar, and quite distinct. It was the smell of tea—or, more specifically, tea that smelled an awful lot like the stuff served in Chinese restaurants back home.


another update!? gasp

hahaha take this 5k+ of word barf ;w; as u can hopefully tell futaba's mental state is a little Questionable as of late.. next chapters will be really getting real tho…

also fun fact i based futaba's taijutsu style off of wing chun style kung fu which is rly heavily focused around defensive moves that are also offensive and it works best in close combat range! also oof i didt mean for taro and tairo's

names to be so similar but extra clarifier: taro is shuu's dad. tairo is imiki's teammate

thanks as usual!