Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto or any of its characters and ideas.
After asking a friend of mine to look at it, I made some changes in the first chapter. Mostly in word choice, but the first section is very different—more fleshed out—so you should probably read that part at least.
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Chapter 2: Is this the real life?
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"I'm not really sure which parts of myself are real and which parts are things I've gotten from books." – Beatrice Sparks, Go Ask Alice
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I have yet to come to terms with my realization. Mostly I'm pretending that I'm wrong, because there is a chance that I am wrong, and I don't... I just don't know what to think about it.
Dying was supposed to make everything easier, simpler. Just heaven or hell, or whatever afterlife exists (if it exists ohgod what if there isn't an afterlife what if this is it, the Nothingness and then being reborn again and again, recycled endlessly pleasenonononopleaseIcan't). I didn't think I would be reborn. I definitely didn't think I would be reborn in another world. A fictional world, thought up by a man to make money, to entertain people. But this isn't entertainment—this is my life now, Brother's life, our life.
Oh god. Oh fuck.
But I don't let myself think about it too much. Whenever I do, it's like Brother can sense my change in mood, and he always comes over to cheer me up. I also make sure to try not to shy away from Mask, because I don't know what kind of conclusion—not that he's liable to come to the correct conclusion—he'll come to if I do, even though he's what made me realize this place is completely different from Before… (probably. If only.) I'm not sure how successful I am.
Though, I wonder why an Anbu member keeps visiting us. Maybe my earlier theory is correct and he is a relative, but he couldn't get custody over us (is that a thing? Do they have custody battles? I don't know. I don't know). Though that doesn't explain why Old Lady is the one "taking care" of us, it does explain why he sneaks in. Unfortunately, it also doesn't explain why he wears his Anbu uniform each time, which one would think is against some type of shinobi rule.
I don't care, I decide. I don't care if I've been reborn in a fictional world, or if this guy is just crazy or even just a huge Naruto fanatic. I don't care.
If this is Konoha, then I can just steer away from everyone and everything to do with the plot. That should be fine. I've never been good at making or keeping friends, anyway. I'm fine with just Brother. And I never...
I never expected to live again, so I'm fine with dying. I am. I really, really am. But. What if I'm reborn, again? Will it be the same? Will I be in this world, again, or my old, or a completely new one? Maybe next time I won't remember anything, maybe next time it'll be okay. Who knows when I was born, anyway? I don't know when in the timeline I am (if I am).
(Why couldn't I just stay dead? I'm supposed to be fucking dead. Why? WHY?)
But it's okay.
It's okay (I keep telling myself but I don't think I believe myself but at least I'm not alone right?)
Shit.
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Mask's visits break up the monotony of being a baby. His appearances stop me from slipping into my mind, and he likes playing with me and Brother, though I can't understand what he says. He's probably usually reprimanding us or pleading for us not to do certain things, even though I do them mostly to see his reactions. It isn't every day you get to see an (supposed) elite ninja panic so much.
...I'm probably a bad influence on Brother.
But it's fun messing with Mask, using him as a prop to try and stand, and to try and repeat the words he says. (Unfortunately?) Brother tends to follow my lead, so when I use Mask as a prop, Brother does, too. And when I try to repeat Mask, Brother does, too. Which tends to lead to hilarious and (hilariously) disastrous situations.
Being a baby means our balance is shitty, so even when I use Mask to try and stand, my whole body wobbles dangerously. Letting go usually ends with me falling either on my ass or on my face. The same thing happens to Brother. This usually leads to Brother crying, which leads to me crying, which leads to Mask freaking out.
Unfortunately, Mask has to beat a hasty retreat when we cry, because Old Lady soon storms in, loud and angry and yelling, looking ready to slap us for being loud, which only makes Brother cry harder. I have to comfort Brother the best I can before Old Lady really does hit us.
She... she hit Brother, once.
And I remember being so so fucking angryand I just wanted to (strangleherstabherkillher how dare she lay a hand on Brother unforgivable die diediediedie motherfucking bitch I'll kill her) punch her because how dare she hit Brother, how dare she hit a little kid. Who leaves kids with someone like her? Brother is so small and the force of the blow made him fall so, so hard there were bruises all over his body, Comfort roiled in Brother, and I just.
There was nothing I could do. There's nothing I can do. I'm just a baby.
It just makes me try harder to stand, to be able to walk and talk, so that I can do something about it, talk to someone, get us help. Get us away. Just do something.
Mask never said anything about the bruises (they disappear so quickly like they were never there no lasting evidence of violence abuse no way to prove what happened). I'm not sure he saw them, or if he thought anything about them, or maybe he just thought they were from us being too rough or careless, something that just happens to babies left without much supervision.
I don't know.
I wish I can understand Mask: his motives, why he watches over us, plays with us, indulges us. But there's always a part of him that seems somehow wary of us, of Brother. It makes it hard to trust him, to rely on him.
Not that we have much of a choice.
He's a resource, though; someone I can use, and I'll use him ruthlessly. Because what else can I do?
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Learning to talk is almost as hard as learning to walk. Sometimes it's hard to remember that I'm smaller, younger, now.
All my limbs are unwieldy and feel heavy, including my tongue. I stumble and trip over my limbs and tongue, and everything seems like an endless battle. But Brother is amused by my efforts and claps gleefully in support, then tries to follow my example. Which is always funny to watch.
We make noises at each other, vague imitations of real words (Japanese words because here they speak Japanese, not English or Korean or Spanish), me trying to speak, him imitating me.
Sometimes I wonder if he's like me, someone reborn with his old memories. He probably isn't, and I wouldn't wish it on him, either, but it doesn't stop me from wondering. I try to talk to him, sometimes, usually in English and once in Korean (but none of the words came out right and they didn't sound like words at all and god is my Korean rusty), and maybe it's because we're twins or maybe he's just emphatic, but it's like he tries to respond, not just in sound but in motion, too.
Mostly it's funny and makes no sense, but sometimes I feel like I can understand him, if only a little. I've managed to say the closest thing to Brother, which sounds more like "Bwoh-ah" than anything else, but. It's a start.
(It's also the wrong language but that doesn't stop me because I don't fucking know Japanese where am I supposed to learn it Old Lady won't teach us and Mask isn't here often enough but—)
I'm covered in bruises as I try valiantly to stand.
Some of the bruises are from tumbling, but most of them are from Old Lady. I know Old Lady doesn't like us. I know. But it doesn't make it right, what she does. It's not our fault we're children. We cry when we're hungry, or lonely, or have to use the bathroom, or when we're hurt.
Babies cry a lot. But Old Lady doesn't like us, maybe doesn't like babies in general, and she takes it out on us. If we're too loud, if we cry too much, if we wake her in the middle of the night. She's rough, barely treats us like humans, and it makes me so, so god damn mad. But. But Brother's wounds always heal so fast, Comfort blazing heat from Brother, and it makes Old Lady angrier, makes her face turn red then purple and she hurts him more and there's nothing I can do and why won't anyone stop her?
But Brother's wounds heal quickly (why do they heal so quick oh god is it chakra is that it is this really the Naruto world), and I'm a quieter baby so I don't have as many injuries. Most of our bruises, Old Lady easily hides beneath our too big clothes, and our only visitor is Mask who's been showing up less and less and we can't even talk, can't even tell or show him. So there's nothing we can do. In this child's body it makes me sometimes cry, which makes brother cry, which makes Old Lady angry.
And.
One day. One day I'll get my revenge. I will.
Because—because how dare she hurt Brother.
(And I'll never tell anyone that my first word was "Fuck!" when I saw the bruise on Brother's face watch it start to fade, shout it again and. Listen to Brother try to repeat it.
I'll never tell anyone. Because it's funny, but it's not. Because these are things a baby shouldn't experience and words a baby should never speak and.
I'm already corrupting Brother.)
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I have no way to keep track of time. I've never been outside this (houseapartmentIdon'tknow) place and isn't that just depressing.
But today. Today is something special, different. It's loud outside, the sound of voices, talking and laughing and shouting. The sky's getting dark and Old Lady's only come to us once, to feed and change us early in the morning, so we're hungry and dirty and soiled and Brother's been crying for a while and nothing I do will make him stop.
Then—
There's a loud noise. The sound of pounding feet. Old Lady running toward our room. She throws the door open, yelling and shouting and cursing, voice loud and words stringing together in a speed I can't follow, can't understand, spittle flying. Her face is red, her fists clenched tightly together.
I can only understand a few words she's saying.
Brats. Demon. Die. All your fault.
(How can it be our fault we've done nothing wrong we're only children only children—
Brother can't even talk barely walk no motor control he's innocent so innocent and warm and Comfort, in him always there but can't do anything and Comfort burns whenever Brother's hurt red hot rage that doesn't touch Brother doesn't touch anyone but it makes Old Lady angrier and hurts hurts hurts)
She comes at us, me near Brother but unable to shield him, and she hits and hits and hits. And I try to block but I can't and it hurts. It hurts hurts hurts and Brother's crying he's in pain and I can't stop it. Can't fucking stop it.
And then.
Suddenly Mask is here, with another person—another Anbu-dressed person, face covered in one of those vague masks—and they're picking us up, Brother with Mask and me with Mask-2. And they're leaving through the window, where there's another Anbu, on the roof, who nods at our Masks and then enters where we just left. Where Old Lady is, screaming and crying.
And then we're flying. No, not flying. Jumping. Roof to roof, jumping. Below us, stalls line the streets, colorful and crowded. People are dressed up, celebrating, covering the sound of our crying.
(Ohmygodno this. This really is. Ninjas they're ninjas this really is the. Nonononono. Why this isn't supposed to be possible how is this fucking possible oh god oh god oh god oh—)
And then we're in a building, smell of antiseptic hurts my nose and makes me sneeze. I look around, squint, as we're rushed into a room and we're laid down and someone in white comes in and then.
Green. Glowing green light, covering me, healing me, making bruises old and new disappear. I feel warm and cool and tired, and so, so drained but I keep my eyes open. Watch as the white person (iryo-nin medic-nin a trained killer who heals instead but still blood on his hands) goes over to Brother and heals him, too. Then he goes to talk to Mask (or Mask-2, I don't know), but all I have eyes for is Brother, who isn't crying anymore but he wants me, I can tell. His hand is out, stretched toward me, his fist clenching and unclenching so I reach out and take his hand.
And then.
Sleep.
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Dead souls creeping out in me infecting me using my body to move to speak to live but we're all dead.
We're all dead.
Puppets moving on unseen strings. Gods laughing at struggling mortals.
Nothingness seeps in, curling tendrils touching everything, but no one can see them stop them. Too late. Too late.
Ocean rises, tides crashing, drowning me drowning you. Everything washed away. Suffocating. Can't breathe.
So cold.
So cold socoldcoldwarmthwhere. Where is warmth promised to me given to me should be here beside me next to me heating me up keeping the cold away
blazing hot melting melting
me
melting away washed away disappearing
i (don't) want to go
I want to go
I want
i
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I wake up to the sound of laughter—Brother laughing, still bright, but subdued compared to his usual laughter. I roll over and push my body up and look around, ignoring my body's protests. I'm still in the hospital, but the medic-nin and Mask are nowhere to be seen. Instead there's an old man in long white robes holding Brother, who is still laughing.
The old man looks vaguely familiar, like from an old memory or a picture, but I've never seen him before. Wrinkled with laugh and worry lines, liver spots, and gray hair and beard. He's….
Oh, he's the Sandaime Hokage.
The Hokage is holding Brother. Brother with his blonde hair and his bright blue eyes and the three lines on each cheek.
Oh. I get it. I get it now.
Brother... Brother is Naruto, isn't he? Jinchuuriki, vessel of Kyuubi. Son of the Yellow Flash, Yondaime of Konoha, and the previous Jinchuuriki, the last known member of the Uzumaki clan.
And I'm his twin sister.
So much for my plan to stay away from the plot. Damn it.
(And it should change so much because this is an Important Person the main character of a story I once read, but it doesn't. It doesn't. He's just my brother, my twin, and I need him and he needs me. And I don't care about the rest.)
Brother's voice breaks me from my thoughts. When I look back to him, he's staring at me, arms stretched out as he cries out for me.
The Hokage turns and looks at me, smiling, but there's worry in his eyes. Of course there is. His weapon was abused.
"Renge," he says. "You're finally awake! Naruto—"
He says more, but that's all I understand. And.
And that's... that's my name, isn't it? Renge. It's the first time I've heard someone say my name. It makes me want to laugh and cry but I do neither. I just reach out for Brother because I want him here, but the Hokage misreads me and picks me up, too, so that I'm cradled in one arm and Brother—Naruto—is cradled in the other.
But that's okay, because Naruto's in reach, now, and we latch onto each other's hand and he's smiling at me and I'm smiling at him.
The Hokage's saying something. I don't know. I don't know what and I don't really care. All I can do is look at Naruto and think: he's okay, he's okay, oh thank god he's okay.
Eventually the Hokage starts moving. We leave the hospital, onto the streets and under the bright, bright sunlight. And it's so warm, and I realize I've missed the sunlight, missed the warmth from it (so different from the warmth from Naruto, from Comfort inside Naruto—and that must be the Kyuubi, isn't that funny—but still so good), missed being able to go outside. There are people, staring people, whispering but not approaching us because it's the "demon" but he's with the Hokage and I hate that I know this, that I can guess this about these people but it's so obvious.
And the Hokage's hold on us tightens.
We're taken into a building, up up up stairs until we reach a door, where the Hokage knocks. Mask opens the door and standing behind him is an old lady, different from the last one (the bitch I'll kill her I'll kill her and make sure no one can find her body just die die die), older with completely gray hair and more wrinkles, especially around her eyes and mouth, someone who used to laugh a lot. But she isn't smiling. She's staring grimly at us, at the Hokage.
They're talking, but I can't understand what they're saying. The Hokage brings us to another room, our room, where two futon are laid out and he gently places us on them. Then he's standing back up and talking to the new Old Lady, their voices carrying over as they leave the room.
Mask is in the room with us, though. He stands, staring (at us?), before he crouches down and brings something out of his hip pouch. It's a new set of blocks. (What happened to our old ones were they thrown away what a waste but they're tainted from the memory of old-Old Lady anyway.) He places them on the floor near us as Naruto and I sit up to inspect them.
"Happy Birthday," he says, voice low and sad, as he reaches out and ruffles our meager amount of hair. Naruto smiles brightly at him, opposite of my pout, and gurgles out some amalgamation of words to express his thanks. I reach out and pat Mask's knee, instead, which is more a very weak slap than anything else.
(That's so sad it's our birthday was our birthday and we spent it in the hospital because of that stupid bitch I'll kill her. Naruto doesn't deserve this deserves better his first birthday oh god please let him forget this later don't make him remember this please)
He ruffles our hair again and stands, leaving the room quickly and quietly, footsteps unheard. The voices of the Hokage and Old Lady die down before there's the sound of footsteps moving away, and a door opening then closing. Then, shuffling footsteps come toward us until Old Lady stands in our doorway.
Her face is blank for a moment, staring at me, then Naruto, then the pile of blocks. She sneers and kicks the blocks away from us before stalking away, slamming the door behind her.
Naruto frowns at the blocks, tears forming in the corners of his eyes, and all I can think about is the fact we've traded one Old Ladyfuckingbitch for another, and life definitely isn't going to become easier.
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"Repeat after me. Na. Ru. To."
"Nawuo!"
"Naruto."
"Nawuo!"
Mask lets out a sigh and tilts his head upward, as if asking why him. Which. Is a good question. Because why is Mask teaching us how to speak? And it's not the only thing he's teaching us during his sporadic visits.
For a while now, he's been teaching us how to talk and walk and read and write (though our progress is very slow and our writing is more a bunch of squiggles and tend to degenerate into random doodles, because learning to write in a language that uses a completely different type of characters is hard and Naruto has a short attention span), and even a few games. Maybe the Hokage's paying him extra, or maybe he's bored, or maybe he's taken pity on us because heaven knows Old Lady won't teach us a thing.
But since his visits are sporadic, we don't learn as much as we could. I do try to supplement some of the teachings with what I can, though there's not much I can do with a limited vocabulary. And I try to encourage Naruto to learn as much as he encourages me to move around. Naruto's an energetic kid who likes to play and move more than he likes to read or talk, or at least to talk properly, because he likes to babble incoherently. We even each other out.
I can't hide my laughter at Mask's misery, but then he turns to me, and I'm pretty sure his face is pleading under his mask, so I cave in. This time, I try to coax Naruto into saying his name properly.
I turn to him and reach out my hand. Automatically, he reaches his out toward mine, but I pull mine back and frown at him.
"Say Naruto."
He frowns at me, not understanding. I reach my hand out and he goes for it again, but once again I pull mine back.
"Naruto." I carefully enunciate his name, over exaggerating the movements of my mouth.
We repeat this a few times before he starts to understand.
"Nawudo," he says. But I shake my head and repeat his name, putting emphasis and the "r" and "t."
"Nawuto!" he shouts, getting up and reaching for me.
"No, Naruto," I respond, also getting up. On shaky legs, I start to walk away from him as he follows me on equally shaky legs. This goes on for roughly a minute, me saying "Naruto" and him shouting "Nawuto." I can see he's getting upset, though, and I know he's trying. So, with a sigh, I stop and hold out my arms.
He tumbles into them, making us fall, as he clutches me and shakes his head, repeating "Nawuto, Nawuto."
(He's so fucking cute why's he so cute I hate babies they're so gross but oh my god Naruto why are you cute. So so so different from my brother from Before oh god what do you do with a younger brother is this how my brother felt when I was born and now he's gone oh god don't think about it.)
Well.
I just stare resignedly at Mask, who is probably laughing at us, the jackass, but is too disciplined to show it.
And, ugh, at this rate Naruto's going to think that Naruto's my name.
I sit up carefully and try to push Naruto away from me, but he's stuck to me like a leech, though at least he's stopped repeating his name. I try again, shooting a glare in Mask's direction because he is not helping, before giving up.
But maybe Mask understands my plight because he makes his way over and effortlessly plucks Naruto off of me (maybe I should just start calling Mask "Jackass," it suits him) and sets him next to me.
Then, placing a hand on my head, he says, "Renge."
Naruto frowns at him, then me, not understanding.
I take Naruto's hand and place it on my chest while saying, "Ren. Ge."
"Renne?" Naruto asks, tilting his head, and if that isn't cute.
But Mask shakes his head. "Renge."
"Renne!" Naruto insists.
Which. Close enough?
Eventually Mask moves on to try and get Naruto to say his codename. ("Yamori [1], Naruto, say Ya. Mo. Ri." "Amowi!" "Yamori, Naruto, Yamori." At which point Naruto gets fed up and just starts shouting: "No!")
And this. This is going to be a long battle.
But it will also be one of our happier memories.
(And it's still so weird. Naruto. My brother. My twin, younger brother. I'm so used to an older brother, sometimes aloof and sometimes a friend, someone I could rely on at times but at others he frustrated me so much and it left me feeling so lonely and god I know I shouldn't because I don't have that right but I miss him.
And Naruto's so different. But at least it doesn't hurt to look at him because he's nothing like my older brother he looks nothing like him sounds nothing like him just isn't him. And it's less painful this way.)
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At some point I wake up and I don't know why I'm awake but my side is cold—
My side is cold. My side, where Naruto is supposed to be sleeping. I turn over, reaching out for him, but he isn't there. He isn't there where is he where he's supposed to be here next to me where—
Whimpering.
Over in the corner, slumped against the wall, Naruto is whimpering. Why? wHY.
"Naruto?" I call out, voice heavy with sleep but body alert. I crawl over to him, slump against him, ignore his flinch (alarming, why is he flinching from me? I'd never hurt him, never). "Naruto, what's wrong?"
He only shakes his head, whimpering, but at least he leans against me, warm against the cold air, my cold body. And how am I supposed to know what's wrong? How am I supposed to fix him?
He's crying.
Is it a—"Bad dream?" Naruto nods, a small gesture I could have easily missed in the darkness, but his head is next to mine and I easily feel the movement. I reach out, slowly, and hug him to my side. "Tell me?"
"No," he says, voice small and quiet and hoarse, quivering. His body's shaking. I only hold him closer and pet his head, because I don't know what else to do.
How do you comfort someone? I don't know.
I don't know, damn it.
But it's enough, because eventually he stops shaking, stops crying. And his breathing evens out. Asleep.
And I can't move him or get up to get a blanket or anything. And it's cold.
So I wrap myself around him as much as I can, soak up his warmth and give him some in return. Comfort—Kurama in his stomach exudes warmth, restful in sleep.
And I stay awake, carefully not thinking about how no one ever did this for me how I used to lock myself in the bathroom and turn the fan on and only then start crying, muffling it in my hand my arm biting my finger to stop sounds from escaping. How it isn't fair. How nothing is ever ever fair.
I don't think about it.
But my hold tightens on Naruto he's so warm and he's constant he won't leave me he won't.
(Darkness behind my eyes nothingness creeping in shadows lengthen in a small room no way out stuck)
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"Nee-san, where Yamori?"
Naruto stretches his arms up to grip the windowsill and pull himself up, though he only manages a feeble pull-up, toes scrabbling for perch, before his weak grip slips and he lets go, dropping down with a thud. We both wince at the sound, holding our breaths. When we hear nothing, we let out a simultaneous sigh, Naruto rubbing the back of his head sheepishly. I don't even need to look up from my picture book to know this.
I shake my head without glancing at him, squinting at the image in the hopes of identifying it (and it's still weird, looking at things without the need for glasses, eyesight so good now so much better than it ever used to be. I still remember being so blind that without my glasses on, I would have to hold something right in front of my face to be able to read it). And I reach up with my small and chubby fingers (so small so fat so very different from my old hands dainty and skinny and oh so pale) and touch the bridge of my nose where glasses used to rest because I can't resist, because it's an old habit that I'll never need again. And.
Don't think about it.
"Don't know. A mission?" The book says it's a dog, but it doesn't look like one to me... Hm.
"I'm booooored!" Naruto whines, childishly throwing his fists and legs out and almost throwing a tantrum. He freezes before I even have to warn him, knowing the consequences of being too loud. They'll be worse, too, because Mask—Yamori—isn't here, and our other Anbu guards never interact with us (if we have any).
I close my book with a sigh and set it aside. I've read it countless times already and truthfully, I'm bored, too.
"Let's do stretches?"
Naruto frowns in thought, obviously trying to remember what stretches are, before he brightens. He probably remembers Yamori telling us to stretch before moving around a lot, and so equates stretches as a before-playing activity. Also he's probably just bored enough that any activity is good activity.
I wouldn't have done anything like this, Before, but in this world I have to get into the habit, we have to get in the habit, because we're going to become ninja and there's just no fucking choice because Naruto's the Jinchuuriki and I'm his sister and we'll always be in danger. So. We have to get ready. Which is probably why Yamori taught us warm-ups and stretches in the first place.
"Yeah!" he shouts, and throws himself into sloppily doing stretches.
Quickly standing up, I go over to him. "No, wait!"
He freezes, sitting with his body bent in half, and squints at me in confusion. I resist the urge to roll my eyes.
"Warm up first, remember?"
Naruto shoots back up, smiling sheepishly.
"Right, right," he says, nodding his head in what he probably thinks is a sage manner but makes him look more like a bobble-head than anything else.
This time I do roll my eyes. And then I start us off on our warm-up. We can't do anything too noisy, though.
First, we start by walking around the room, getting quicker and quicker on each lap, but no quicker than a jog, with our arms swinging wide. Then, we start adding movements, like lifting our knees high while touching our elbow, and then walking lunges. Always making sure we're quiet. (This is… hm. Oddly enough, stealth training. Naruto, stealth training. Ha.) We do this for roughly five minutes, which at this point is the longest Naruto can stand doing them without whining.
Then we move onto stretches, with some yoga interposed. Child's pose to start, then sphinx pose (or as close to it as we can get). Then: arm stretches, up, to the side; shoulder, one arm pushing the other toward you; triceps, push bent arm toward middle of back from overhead; butterfly for inner thighs; straddle stretches for the back to hamstrings; lastly leg stretches, heel of foot touching butt, stationary lunges, reach to touch toes while standing, fold one leg and extend the other and touch the toes of extended leg.
It's more than I've ever done Before, except when I took P.E. in high school (which was hell) and yoga in college.
"Done!" Naruto shouts, because with how much we've been moving around and no protests from Old Lady, it means she's either still asleep or out, but Naruto doesn't care which because he's already rushing to eat something before we're kicked out of the apartment for the day.
There's a small amount of leftovers in the fridge for us to eat before we leave, because otherwise Old Lady will kick us out without feeding us, saving the leftovers for our dinner. It's never enough for us, especially Naruto, but what can we do?
When I get to the kitchen, Naruto's already stuffing his face with cold rice and fish, not bothering to heat it up. He's also eaten most of the food, not that I'm complaining. I couldn't stand the smell or taste of fish Before. And. Ugh. Even though it's not as bad now, in this body, I still retain the hatred of fish. I stick to eating most of the pickled daikon with the rice, instead, though I do force myself to eat some of the fish and for Naruto to eat some of the daikon, despite his hatred of vegetables. It's not the best or enough or healthy, but there's nothing we can do about it, not that Naruto realizes (or maybe he does, but doesn't say anything. He's sharper than most people give him credit for).
He makes a face at me, impatient to leave, dashes to the door to put his shoes on and start jogging in place. I sigh dramatically, slowly slipping on my shoes while Naruto drags over the stool, placed near the door so that we can stand on it to open the door (we're too short to reach the door handle, but that doesn't stop Old Lady from kicking us out every day).
As soon as he gets the door open, I latch onto Naruto's hand so that he won't run off without me, and close the door behind us. Naruto barely waits a second before he's off running. He has so much energy, he would have tired me out in a second, Before. Now, I easily stay even with him, and we make our way quickly down and out the apartment, and then out the neighborhood. It's dangerous to linger, because people have already caught on that the "demon boy" and his sister live around here, and it's never good when they catch sight of us.
We're lucky today, and no one stops us. Naruto runs straight to the playground, which is empty for now, and, as my grip on his hand grows lax, takes a running jump at one of the lower monkey bars. He pulls himself up with great effort, legs flailing, to stand at the top.
He strikes a pose, hands on his hips, and shouts, "I'm daimyou of the playground!"
I take a second to contemplate what to do (because god he's such a kid but I'm a kid too and it's still so weird what am I even doing), before deciding what the hell, and join him on the bar next to him. It's higher up than I thought it would be, and for a moment I feel woozy, but I remind myself not to look down and instead stare straight at Naruto. And I strike a dramatic pose, one hand on my hip, the other with my thumb pointing at myself.
"I'm daimyou!"
"Nu uh! You can't! You're a girl!" Maybe he can sense that he said the wrong thing, or maybe it's the face I'm making, but Naruto freezes, sweating buckets, and hastily backtracks. "You can be a princess, instead!"
But the damage is done (not that being labelled a princess will appease me, anyway), so I look at his precarious position on the monkey bar, think about toppling him over. There's a better solution, though.
"Fine," I say, smirking at him (and I bet that's a weird look, on a kid's face). And he looks dubious, because it can't be that easy. "Then I'm Hokage."
He doesn't understand what I'm getting at, but he still reacts in indignation.
"So? Daimyou is better than Hokage!" he shouts, arms swinging wide, making him teeter, and if that doesn't shave a few years off my life.
Maybe I shouldn't have jumped up, too.
But... hm.
I guess Naruto hasn't set his sights on Hokage… yet. Which. Makes sense. I guess.
And it's actually the truth, that the daimyou outranks the Hokage. Which is all kinds of weird and stupid, but then again you really don't want the Hokage to outrank the daimyou, either, because then this would be a military state. Country? Ugh. Don't think about it.
But how does Naruto... oh right, we read that one children's history book Yamori left us (also weird because they make history books for children?) about the relationship between ninja villages and the countries they're located in.
Shaking myself out of my thoughts, I grin at Naruto's glower.
"Well, I'm Hokage and the Hokage is a ninja, not like the daimyou who only eats and gets fat! I bet I can kick your ass!"
"No way!" Naruto shouts, "You can't beat me!" (And wow I should probably sensor myself, because Naruto actually understands what I said.)
Which.
Really, as an adult I shouldn't get offended by this. It's probably true, anyway. But that doesn't stop me from being offended.
So I put both hands on my hips, lean forward precariously, and challenge him: "Wanna try me?"
And Naruto being Naruto, he launches himself at me with a war cry, forgetting that we're on top of the monkey bars. He knocks into me and we soar through the air for a heart stopping moment, before we plummet and I land on my back with Naruto on me, killing me with his weight and I can't breath and—
"I hate you."
"...Sorry."
.
.
There's some paper and crayons Yamori left us once and in the middle of the night I take them and I write and write because my memory from Before wavers and fades and there are some things I shouldn't forget can't forget they're important and so much happens to Naruto shouldn't have to happen to him but.
But do I really care? About him? About others? About myself?
No. I care about Naruto. He's—
Without him I am nothing. Dead. I should be dead I would be dead without him. He's the only thing keeping me here keeping me sane keeping me alive and. And I don't know.
But just in case, I can't forget.
So I write it all down. In English. Letters scrambled but with the first and last letters in the correct position. Words big and messy because this hand isn't my hand but it is and it's stubby and small and not used to writing. And then I tape it to the bottom of the third drawer in our dresser.
And then I crawl in next to Naruto and I let him latch onto me like a limpet and I fall asleep to his warmth.
.
.
A/N:
1 Gecko
New chapter with 80 percent more curse words! Or something. Please stay tuned for more (cursing, that is).
So, yes, child abuse/negligence (and I know they're not the same thing, but look at how much Naruto gets tossed around and beat up and how unfazed he is by it, like he's used to it) is pretty canon for Naruto's childhood, though we never learn its extent.
I don't know if you can tell, but in the name part, Renge is trying to use touch as an incentive to get Naruto to say his name correctly (since Naruto's a very touchy-feely type). AKA, saying his name correctly = cuddles. Doesn't work, though.
THANK YOU to those who:
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Quick question: Should there be more canon characters or more OCs? I can't decide, and it will really effect the future chapters. Aaagh I wish there were more canon characters to play around with, instead of just pretty much two age groups with a really huge age gap. C'mon!
And oh my god I need a beta because my mind is a ridiculous place and the ideas I keep getting for this story need to be shot and buried because some of them are just so freaking ridiculous and aaaaaugh.