Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto.
Status: Incomplete
It was not the last time she met the stream-kappa, because she was curious, and when she was curious, she did not relent, no matter how much her mind wandered.
She knew it drove her mother mad, to find her wandering away from the fields in which she sowed the seeds and worked to the bone, only to enlist well-meaning villagers to find her toddler-daughter again, flushing in shame when she received another of her daughter's airy explanations, about how the wind carried her away, and the birds told her to follow the path of the wood, and the woods that whispered for her to come in.
When they had gotten home, her mother had shouted herself hoarse, and Yasuo had laughed her a little too meanly to be sibling-rivalry, and her father had given her that look, the one that could quell her even now, the one that spelt quiet disappointment.
She had taken it all without a complaint, and when Yasuo had asked her why, in his mocking, jeering tone, she had given him the same answer she had her mother.
"There was a cloud," she began, voice airy, "and it was really quite pretty, and I thought—"
"You're stupid." Yasuo interrupted, and she thought that he was quite ugly for one with such a pretty face.
She gave him a smile in return and he answered her with a scowl.
They made her clean the dishes that night, and she hummed to herself throughout, the words of Signor Yazovitch's love songs thawed the gnawing worry in her mother's heart, and the disappointment threading her father's face, although not quite the bitter pettiness that lined her brother's jaw.
"I'm sorry Hitomi," her mother said, and she crouched down to face her. She was a pretty woman, she could tell, but the fields had taken their toll on her face, and the crowfeet at the edges of her eyes were beginning to groove, and the porcelain skin her father liked to trace was darkening to a leathery brown. Still, her hair was long when unbound, and a silvery blonde that made her stomach churn when she looked at it too long.
"Hitomi," her mother chided, and she tried hard to focus on that name and remember it was hers, "It's important that you listen to me, Hitomi."
"Is she ever listening?" Yasuo sniped, looking up from the scroll father was trying to make him read.
"Yasuo," her father's baritone voice came. "Leave your sister alone."
"She's your younger sister, Yasuo-chan. Apologize." Her mother sighed, pained.
Her brother looked ashamed, cheeks turning red in anger, and she saw the viciousness that flared to life in those slate eyes as he turned to look at her.
"Sorry." He muttered, hands turning white, eyes full of vitriol.
It was then she realized he would not be quite like Elan; kind, but tempestuous Elan, who croaked about injustice and painted terrible landscapes, but made her tea when she was sad, and got up, his lips pursed like he'd chewed on a sour lemon, to dance whenever she declared they must have a party in honor of life, of happiness, of everything good in the world.
"See?" her brother voice ripped her from her thoughts, and her eyes fell upon a red-cheeked, murderous-looking brother who glared daggers at her. "She doesn't even listen to my apology, Okaa-san! How can she listen to you if she's so stupid she forgets to pay attention?"
Her mother threw her hands up in the air, long-suffering, and Hitomi let out a tinkling, giggling laugh, which only served to make her brother madder.
"Stop laughing, crazy!" He yelled, and in a moment of anger, he threw himself across the room and they rolled, she laughing good-naturedly, him grabbing clumps of hair in his fists, and trying to pull with all his might.
Father stepped in before her brother did too much damage and they spent the rest of the night apart, Yasuo murdering her with his eyes, and she, humming the last song she remembered hearing from Yazovitch's piano.
Their parents sent them to bed, and Yasuo made sure to pinch the inside of her forearm hard enough to bruise.
In the morning, her mother made sure to pull her aside, "Hitomi, you cannot wander away anymore. There are…whisperings of a war coming soon. Whisperings that are not good; whisperings that warn of harmful things coming to pass. You cannot wander away, not when there are killers coming to our very doorstep."
Her mother looked at her, eyes serious, lips pressed together. "Do you promise me, Hitomi?"
She tilted her head. "I will try, Mama."
…
"Your name, little one, means spirit. So that you may be carried to the other worlds and beyond."
In another life, her father's words rang true and fierce, and she'd smiled into her jacket the first time she'd heard them.
…
The second time she met the kappa-spirit, she'd wandered away from the market, enthralled with the way the birds danced in the sky, their joyous crows heady and inviting, and she crouched down at the edge of a small hill, a smile spreading across her lips as she heard the rush of clear water.
She made her way across the rocky, jagged plane slowly, pausing to wonder of the plants that seemed to grow with every beat of her steps, and the whispers she thought she heard on the edge of her hearing, just a little too far to be heard.
The stream was wider here, not yet a river, but the water rushed hard enough to feel the spray of the rapids when she got close enough. She came closer, watching and humming, carefully, carefully, until she was close enough to fall in.
She thought she saw a flash of light underneath the waves, but she did not want to risk being swept away by the current, and so she sat on the edge of the bank, letting her tiny legs swing, and the cool of the water let her think.
She closed her eyes, leaning back against the wet, moist earth, her clean hair loosening from its carefully-crafted bun, falling into straggly lines around her frail head. Mother, she knew, would be upset, but she so loved to feel the earth pressed against her skin, her soul, her mind that in that moment, she did not care for the scolding she knew she would receive.
She felt it rather than heard it, settle on the bank next to her, the smell of freshwater filling her nose, and the spray of water sprinkling over her brown yukata.
She opened her eyes to find it there once more, with its wide, curious eyes, something not quite innocent, yet not quite malignant to find threatening and it's blue beak, with the green tuft of crest over its head.
"Hello." She said.
It watched her.
Her gaze wandered back to the sky, and she watched the way the wind blew the clouds, peace settling in her bones.
"Why can a man-child like you, see me?" Its voice was a raspy squeak, as if it was not quite meant to speak out of the water. "You are not dead."
"Oh." She looked back at it, catching the sight of its narrowing eyes. "I think I was. At least for a little while."
It snorted in scorn. "Silly man-child. Humans like you cannot come back from the dead. They rest in the Shinigami's stomach. Haven't your human-parents told you this?"
"Yes," she answered, because she remembered the way her father's deep voice lulled Yasuo and her to sleep when they were young enough to get along, and the many stories he told of the creatures of the other world. "I didn't know if it was true. Maybe, here it is?"
It scoffed, "It is the same everywhere, silly, stupid child. Surely, you must know at least that."
She watched a fluffy cloud trace across the horizon. "Oh, I don't know. Maybe so. But who knows?"
"I do! We kappa know about death. We are spirit-beings, and all spirit-beings know where they must go, and how to watch for any way-ward man-children." It squawked, scales glimmering in the heat of the sun. It turned accusing, black eyes towards her. "Like you."
"Is that what you are?" She asked. "A kappa?"
It clicked its beak together, annoyance settling in its black eyes. "You can see, and yet, like many man-children, you remain blind."
"I've never met a kappa before." She told it. "How was I supposed to know?"
It hesitated, and then scowled at her, which looked rather funny with the enormity of its eyes. "How dare you question me! Insolent man-child! You know nothing about death, nor of spirits and yet you dare impede on my tribe's territory!"
She opened her mouth to answer, but she heard the approaching shout of her brother's jeering yell and instead smiled.
"Bye Kappa-san." She bowed, hair plastered and wet against her cheeks. "Maybe, I will see you again too?"
When she rose, the kappa was gone, and all that remained was the glimmer of light underneath the river-stream.
Yasuo dragged her back all the way to the market where her mother had driven herself into a tizzy of fear, and her father, eyes creasing in amused worry, went to laugh at the sight of his daughter, covered in mud with wet, dripping hair and dirty feet.
Mother made her do the dishes again, but she didn't mind; she rather quite liked it.
Hope you like! :)