Time had flown by with me making painfully small leeway on my meditation issue. All the progress I had made was realizing that Kiba was, in fact, a canon character, and that maybe I owed him an apology.

Predictably, my report card had been abysmal, and with each passing month, my anxiety had only amped up in intensity, which only made me more desperate to access those locked memories. The end of April had come and gone, Shuu was still in hot water with the clan for his stunt with Neji a couple weeks ago, and Konoha was starting to get warmer.

Sitting on my closet-room floor after classes had let out for the day, I screwed my eyes shut and tried to reach that zen state I'd achieved in class all those months ago before all of this memory blockage shit had gone down. As it turned out, consciously trying to think of nothing was nearly impossible.

When I felt like I'd been sitting for somewhere between ten minutes and an eternity, I finally felt my mind grow numb as I slipped into a near-sleep state. I let myself zone out further, focusing on everything and nothing at all—a skill I'd picked up in class during my other life, and honed to an art form in this one—until I felt a sense of vertigo, like I was careening up a hill. I waited for the inevitable sensation of a fall, when—

"Ow! Shit!" My eyes snapped open before screwing shut in pain. I toppled over, overcome by dizziness and a throbbing pain in my temples. Entering my other body via mediation was still blocked, but I hadn't fainted this time, at least. There was improvement there, so I couldn't lose hope.

For the time being, it was just very annoying.

Grumbling, I picked myself up off the floor. I guess meditation is a no-go today, too. I put a cross on another day on my calendar next to the line of ones before it. Even though I couldn't remember the date I had initially drank the tea, I was still making an effort to keep track of the effects of gallow-weed. I had to be cautious of anything remotely resembling jasmine tea lest this happen again. The only thing keeping me afloat in this world was my knowledge of the future, and I wouldn't forget it.

Imiki promised me she would be home to have supper with me, so I had at least a few hours to burn before she got home.

Which meant…

I wandered away from my room and down the hall, my bare feet padding against the wooden floors. Over the years, Imiki's cramped apartment had started to accumulate a few more home-like touches, with photographs adorning side tables and paintings hanging on walls. But, admittedly, the apartment felt less and less like home these days without Imiki here to fill in the silence. Putting all of the recent shifty business aside, she was still the only family I had left in this world, and I did feel a sentimental attachment to her because of it. Not that I would ever admit that to her, because we were still on thin ice ever since her fishy apology, and I could hold grudges like nobody's business.

Which was why I felt only a slight pang of guilt when I crept into her room and got to work on investigating her bedside table.

The question of why she and Waki had been so secretive and sketchy lately was always at the forefront of my mind. Waki was the one who brought the gallow-weed, clearly, because I'd passed out shortly after having tea with him, but Imiki couldn't have been completely innocent in this. I was going to get to the bottom of it today.

Her first drawer was a bust—it was chock-full of kunai and different brands of senbon. And I thought I was paranoid—thankfully, I wasn't a real child, and I hadn't ever sought her out in the middle of the night for comfort after a nightmare; who knows if "canon Futaba" would have met her early end that way.

I shuddered at the thought and continued to sift through her things. I'd grossly underestimated my aunt's obsession with weapons—her room, her place of solace, was filled to the brim with barely hidden weapons. With great effort and a little bit of chakra-boosting, I lifted the mattress off of the frame just enough to catch the glint of a curved blade—a katana—wedged between the bedframe and the mattress. Grimly, I wondered if Imiki had ever used it.

I left no stone unturned in Imiki's room, searching for anything incriminating, but try as I might, I couldn't find any traces of the tea or evidence of shifty dealings with Waki at all. Defeated, I plopped onto her bed and stared at the framed photo on the bedside table. It was a washed-out photograph of my mother and my aunt taken when they were young. Imiki looked only a little older than me, grinning brightly and posing goofily with my mom, who was older and a little more collected, but equally mirthful. They were clearly very close, and I thought to myself a little guiltily about how much more affected by my mother's death Imiki had probably been than me. From what limited information I had on our family roots, they had to have come from a clan, but that clan was mysteriously absent now, so all they would have had was each other.

Absently, I reached for the photo frame and flipped it over, undoing the latch on the back and emptying the frame of its contents. Stashed in the back of the frame was a series of...strange, card-sized paintings of a vaguely familiar landscape, painted in greys, blues, and purples. I could make out the silhouettes of urbanized buildings emitting dark smog into the cloudy sky. Flipping through the paintings, I discovered that whoever painted these was obsessed with this almost haunting landscape.

Then I flipped to the final card in the stack, which was different from the others in that it featured a single building rather than a landscape. It looked like a home, or at least that was the feeling I got from it, but it wasn't a house like any I'd seen in this life. Tapestries hung symmetrically, surrounding the door. Damp and faded cloth emblazoned with the same insignia I wore on my back.

"Futaba!"

In the doorway stood my aunt with an expression on her face I'd never seen before, a sight that sent a chill down my spine. I jolted, the cards scattering out of my hands and onto the floor. Shit, Imiki wasn't supposed to be home this early! Maybe I could play it cool. "I-Imiki-nee—"

She didn't leave me time to play it cool. Imiki stormed into the room, picking up the cards frantically with trembling hands. "What do you think you're doing here!? These are my things! You can't just go snooping around when I'm not here, Futaba, it isn't right." She was much more worked up than I felt the situation called for.

I swallowed nervously, thinking of all the ways I could chicken out and make an excuse to get me out of hot water, but then I noticed a tell-tale shine in my aunt's eyes. Was she on the brink of tears? Over me being a nosy brat? There was something more here that I just had to find out. "But Imiki-nee, we're family…" I whimpered with my most pathetic look possible.

My aunt paused in her frantic gathering of the cards, looking absolutely broken by my words. Something in my chest withered, and I felt a bit rotten for manipulating her like this, but I was tired of being in the dark. She just needed a little push to tell me the truth. I continued, "I-I saw the picture of you and Okaa-san," my voice cracked here, and I thanked the drama class I'd taken in my other life for blessing me with the guts to pull this off, "and I just wanted to see Okaa-san again, but the picture frame fell apart when I picked it up." I wrung my hands for added effect.

Imiki remained silent for a few heavy moments before sighing and sitting on the bed next to me with a resigned look on her face. I tugged on her sleeve gently. "Imiki-nee, what are those pictures?" I gestured to the cards in her hands. "Are they...important to you?"

She took a deep breath, then slowly breathed out and stared down at the cards. The industrial landscape, the first one I'd seen, was on the top of the stack. "This is Amegakure," she finally whispered, angling the card so I could see it better.

I felt my heart thud clumsily in my chest. The urban landscape flashed through my mind, animated and brought to life with the addition of a constant, heavy rain. "Amegakure?"

Imiki nodded. "Futaba-chan, your mother and I...we escaped from Ame during what was called the Second Great Shinobi War. Have you learned about it in class yet?"

The term rung alarm bells in my head, but not because of what little of it we'd covered in class. I nodded anyway.

"A long time ago, your mother and I lived in Ame with the rest of the Nagayuu clan," Imiki continued. "But then came the war, and Amegakure became too dangerous for us children to live in. The clan decided that sending us all away to flee Amegakure would be the safest course of action. Originally, it was me, your mother, and the other clan children, our cousins…" She paused, expression hollow. "But Rurae and I were the only ones that survived."

I fiddled with the hem of my shirt, feeling slightly nauseous at the thought of countless kids being caught in the crossfire of an overblown conflict that didn't involve them. War was a monster, no matter what world you were in.

"We eventually made it to Konoha by some miracle," Imiki continued. "I was too young to remember the details, but Rurae told me we were in very poor shape when we dragged ourselves in—half-dead. Luckily, Sandaime-sama took pity on us and allowed us to stay here as Ame refugees. But not everyone was happy to have us here. To many, we were children of the enemy. To others, we were anomalies of great political interest." My aunt's expression had morphed into one of clear disgust. "Rurae kept me safe from all of it. She taught me to remember my lineage, and she trained me in the Nagayuu clan's signature taijutsu methods. My sister did her all to protect me, and now, I'm doing the same for you." She finally looked at me. I felt like a deer caught in the headlights, and I resisted the urge to shrink under the intensity of her gaze.

"But sometimes, it was just too much. The officials of this village didn't even try to hide their distrust of us at the start. There were times I wished that I was from Konoha so that I'd fit in easier, but whenever I did, Rurae would get upset with me and show me these cards. She loved to paint, you see, Futaba-chan. She would paint images in her memories that were important to her. She must have painted hundreds of little cards like these, full of whatever she could remember, but these few have always been my favourites." Imiki shuffled through the cards with great care, a fond expression on her face. "Your mother always made sure I wasn't ashamed of where we came from. She believed we were survivors, not victims."

Imiki was silent for a long moment, then continued with a sense of finality. "Ame was a terrible, corrupt place, Futaba-chan. Not a day goes by when I'm not thankful we escaped, but remember this: no hidden village is without its flaws."

Either I was hallucinating or the temperature in the room had dropped a few degrees. There was something so raw in my aunt's voice that cast a spell on me, compelling me to listen without interrupting her, and now that she was done speaking, I didn't have the nerve to break the silence.

Then, like a passing cloud, the gloom lifted, and Imiki rose to her feet. "Well, I'm going to freshen up before Waki gets here. We'll be going out for dinner tonight, all three of us!" With that, Imiki strode out of her room and left me in the silence to mull over what I'd just learned.

Amegakure. My mother, my aunt, and my clan were all from Ame. What was left of my memories at this point brought three prominent images to mind at the thought of the village hidden in rain—a man with an unhealthy number of piercings and a shock of orange hair, a lady that floated delicately like a sheet of paper, and an ominous blood-red cloud set against a pitch-black sky. Ame was a heavily industrialized village that was corrupt—corrupted by who, I was sure I knew, but that part of my memory was still a bit hazy—and would eventually become the stronghold of the Akatsuki organization sometime soon...if it hadn't happened already, that is. Even if my memories had been perfectly intact, I still wasn't the best with placing events relative to each other. I'd managed to recall major antagonists back when the worst of the haze had started to clear up, but my knowledge seemed to be coming back in chunks in reverse order—the more recent stuff taking priority over the early events, which really wasn't helpful right now.

For now, this explained why Hyouroku had called me out for my atypical taijutsu style, and why he'd reacted so violently to it, too—he probably had fought in the Second Great Shinobi War some years ago. In the end, Hyouroku was nothing more than a prejudiced old man who hadn't hated me because of my lagging performance in class or association with the village disgrace, but because of what I was.

I guess the tables have turned, Naruto.

"Futaba-chan, time to go," chirped my aunt from the doorway, her mood a total 180 from what it had been a few minutes earlier. Warily, I slid off the bed and trudged over to my doom—dinner with Waki.

The wispy-haired man stood at the front door, smiling amicably. I didn't buy it, and I never understood why Imiki never invited Tairo to tag along for dinner instead. I'd barely met the guy, but I still trusted him more than Waki. With Imiki's hand planted firmly on my shoulder, I surrendered myself to fate and spent the trip to Shiro's moodily silent. I had a lot to chew on as it was.


You knew that something wasn't right with me whenever I wasn't able to finish a bowl of zoni in one sitting. The sobering thought of my roots was distracting me from everything tonight. I hadn't even called Waki out for the piece of mizuna wedged in his teeth, something regular Futaba would never let pass.

It was hard to not worry when it turned out the village your clan had ties to would eventually become the host of a terrorist organization hellbent on conquering all the shinobi nations. It was also hard to not fret over how, if made public, my status as a member of an Ame clan could present itself as its own hurdle in the future. What if there were more Hyourokus out there? What if my superiors didn't deem me worthy of village secrets and this affected my chances of survival?

I massaged my temples and searched for the truth in my ozoni. Disappointingly, the answers were not hidden in the kombu. I took a vicious bite out of a piece, wishing I'd paid more attention to history classes in my first life.

"You look troubled, Futaba-chan," Waki's smooth voice lilted. "Is everything alright? You've been rather spaced out all night."

My head snapped up, chills running down my spine as I made eye contact with the man. The man who drugged me. "Where's Imiki-nee?"

"She just went to pay the bill. You're really out of it, aren't you?" Waki chuckled. When I didn't answer, he shifted so he could maintain his gaze more comfortably. "Your aunt and I discuss your progress quite often. You have impressive chakra control for your age and...condition," he said carefully. My hand subconsciously moved to my arm at the mention of the irritating chakra 'allergy', where a burn was still healing. "I believe you have an amazing gift, Futaba-chan, but your aunt is...less than enthusiastic. She thinks you'd be better off as a weapons specialist like her." He laughs.

I frowned, not liking the idea of Imiki discussing me with others behind my back.

"Imiki worries constantly about you, Futaba-chan," Waki said, as if reading my mind. "Her worries are not completely unfounded; gifts can be abused when they fall into the wrong hands. She just wishes for you to not have to go through the same hardships her and your mother did when they were your age. Everything she does is for your own good."

This guy was really starting to sound like the guidance counsellors in my high school. I never appreciated their gaslighting then, and I wasn't too keen on it now, so instead of listening to his repetitive false niceties, I pointedly looked back to my soup and savagely devoured another piece of kombu. Who needed maturity when you could just lean into the persona of an immature six-year-old?

In my peripheral vision, I saw Waki's smile wilt slightly. When he spoke again, his voice was lower yet every bit as calm as it was before. "Are you still having nightmares, Futaba?"

I froze. Why did such innocuous words sound so threatening coming from him? And why the interest in my nightmares?

A terrifying thought struck me. Did he somehow know what I was? Or was he just a sadistic bastard flaunting the fact that he knew that I'd figured out that he drugged me and liked to see me squirm?

Calm down, Futaba. There's no way he could possibly guess something as outlandish as your situation. I gave him my most cautious glare yet, trying not to seem as rattled as I felt.

Waki smiled, unaffected by my dirty look. "No need to go on any more sleuthing trips, Futaba-chan. I have an extensive garden of herbs used in many remedies at home."

My grip on my spoon went slack. This bastard knew I went to the Yamanaka flower shop to investigate his tea? Fuck, he'd probably used one of his fancy ninja tricks to conceal his presence. But why? Was it wrong to want to know what had happened to me?

Imiki finally returned, breaking the icy silence between us two, and pouted at my half-full bowl. "Futaba-chan, you've barely touched your soup."

"I'm not hungry," I muttered, pushing my chair back and hastily tugging on my jacket. "I wanna go home."

My aunt looked taken aback for a few moments before realization flashed across her face. She probably assumed that the discussion from earlier had taken a toll on me mentally, an assumption I'd take advantage of. "Alright, we'll get going then. See you, Waki."

"Thanks for the meal," he replied easily. "Bye-bye, Futaba-chan."

I didn't turn to look at him, holding my aunt's arm tighter than I had in years the whole way home.


hi all! i hope you're all staying safe and staying inside when possible. i've got about 7 chapters written ahead of this one and i'll upload on a weekly basis until i run out.

as for this chapter: some questions answered, some remain unanswered… why did waki drug futaba? and how the heck was imiki okay with it? how could it possibly be "for futaba's own good"? all to be revealed… Eventually.

things are always complicated in a world run by ninjas :( ninja politics are a pain…