The change in climate between Shimo no Kuni and Yu no Kuni was even more jarring than the change in climate between Shimo and Kaminari.

Sure, the land looked exactly the same - the area around the border was dominated by evergreen forests, carpeted by their fallen needles and fallen shinobi and the occasional pile of the last remnants of a late April snowfall, perhaps fewer in number and less in amount than in Shimo, but the fact remained. It may have been spring, but winter wasn't over yet.

The wall of heat and humidity and the squishier ground beneath the pine needles and dead bodies (none of which Bunshirou would touch this time, to both my relief and my surprise) told a different story, one of the boiling hot water that flowed deep in the ground underneath our feet. Sure, it was probably still colder than Florida typically was in April, but it was warmer than freezing, and I was more than happy to take that.

If I was being honest, I just wanted to relax in a hot spring and curl up in bed and sleep the nightmare of life away. Though I knew from past experience that I'd go stir crazy after a week at best without something to fuel the inner gears.

A vacation. That's what I needed.

Wasn't the Land of Hot Water known as a tourist destination when it wasn't serving as a metaphorical Belgium (or was it Switzerland?) in war? I wanna be a tourist. Let's be tourists. That is a language I know well.

Though on the other hand, the Land of Hot Water had also produced Hidan. Yes, he was ousted from Yugakure, but that didn't mean there weren't more of his kind, and I didn't fancy coming across the folks who would create Hidan.

If this was some kind of a dream, then I had some serious questions to ask Kishimoto on the extremely unlikely event I would ever meet him after waking up.

On the other hand (how many hands do these things have?), fiction was expected to be weird - take some real life concept and exaggerate it to some logical (or illogical) extreme. Nobody, save the snobbiest of literary snobs, wanted to read fiction featuring mediocre people in ordinary situations. I'm looking at you, Anne of Green Gables.

We stopped in a small village just outside Yugakure no sato, or the Village Hidden in the Steam, if the signs were to be believed. Three things caught my eye immediately.

First was the rise of the distant green peaks to the south, probably located in Hi no Kuni itself. A distant memory was triggered, one of an endlessly flat South Carolina interstate where the mountain peaks had just became visible, and excitement rose with the knowledge that, soon, we would be out of that state and that much closer to family and not-excruciatingly-hot summer weather and beds and delicious-if-not-healthy cooking. Here of course, I had no such thing to look forward to (except maybe the food). It had taken me literally almost dying to get Bunshirou to go to Kumogakure. There was no way he'd go to Konohagakure for anything less than Uchiha Madara himself chasing him there. But maybe he'd let us enjoy Yugakure.

The second was the sudden wall of bamboo. I did a double take. A wall of evergreen forests behind me. A wall of bamboo before me. There was no gradient, no mixing whatsoever. The sight triggered (yes, triggered) memories of the pine forests with perfectly straight rows and perfectly straight borders, planted because somebody had raped the land and then later decided not to build on the cleared fields. Of course, who was to say that this tree phenomenon wasn't naturally occurring? I shook my head and ran ahead into the village, eager to get rid of images of engineered forests.

There I was greeted by the third thing. Or things. Potatoes. Lots and lots of potatoes. Merchant stands selling potatoes, potato fries, potato chips, potato plants. Potato plants in the flowerbeds in front of the houses I could see instead of, you know, flowers. I wondered if this was what Ireland would have looked like had they bamboo and more forests than hills.

I gulped. I didn't hate potatoes, per se. I just didn't like them very much, and the few ways I did like them, I didn't care for how they gradually became globs in the back of my throat, making eating and breathing more difficult than it would have been were I eating anything else. I hoped that, if we settled here for a while and had to eat potatoes every day, Bunshirou-tou-san would let me into the kitchen and introduce him to the wonders of gnocchi. Forget that I was four and shouldn't have known anything about cooking except for how to put a kettle full of water on a flame for tea, and that the only thing I knew to do with a blade was throw it at stationary targets.

Being of such close proximity to Yugakure, this village had a good number of tool shops and a large (for a tiny village) grocery market in the center.

I held my tongue as Tou-san dragged me around, fearing that I would say gibberish and be regarded as stupid despite the fact that four-year-old children were widely known and regarded for their gibberish. At least I could add some foodstuffs to my vocabulary and my brain was still small and quick enough to retain it right away. For example, I knew from Before that "potato chips" was "potechi" and today I learned that "potato" was "jagaimo." That made six languages I knew that word in. Three of those languages I had no business knowing.

We ended the day's shopping with fresh ink and brushes, an assortment of vegetables (mostly potatoes), a box of standard issue kunai, some rope, a bar of soap, and a fresh set of clothes (hooray - I had regretted losing my travel haori, and the shirt and pants I'd been forced to wear every day for the past month-and-a-half-minus-the-hospital straight were not only smelly but also getting to be too short). I watched as Tou-san sealed away the new supplies minus my new set of clothes which I was now wearing.

What boggled my mind was that, though Tou-san was making acquaintances with the merchants, not once had he talked about acquiring a living quarters. Perhaps I had been spoiled when sleeping in the hospital bed, but come on. Not even a hotel room? Those had to exist in this country somewhere.

I followed Tou-san into the woods, evergreen side, as the sky, already a pretty orange, slowly darkened. His intention was clear - we were eating and sleeping in the forest.

"Tou-san," I began, speaking for the first time in hours.

"Hm?" He barely paid me any mind as he unsealed our sleeping bags.

Suddenly nervous and wanting to appear bashful in hopes that he'd end up acquiescing, I dipped my head, hooked my fingers behind me, and slowly swiveled in place. "Um, when are we going to settle down?"

I cringed at how useless my cutesy act was - he wasn't even looking at me. I kept it up, just in case he did look my way.

"We will be staying here for a while," he said.

"Really?" My head raised and I leaned forward, unable to hide my delight.

"Yes, but we won't be staying in a house or anything like that."

My demeanor dropped. "Oh."

The conversation seemed to end, with sounds being limited to scrolls and general woodland noise. I wasn't really sure what to say to that. I wanted to ask why, but something was holding me back. I chalked it up to an instinct to never question my parental figure, something I had definitely not carried over from my previous life. Where had that come from?

Bunshirou finished setting up camp and the sun went down as we sat around a small fire, eating our rations. I could hear shuffling; it had to be the forest nightlife. There was a basic barrier seal around our campsite, so we were safe from animals. But that didn't mean I felt safe.

I didn't feel any better the next morning. I had a crick in my back from sleeping funny on a rock. Or a pea, except I wasn't a princess.

My dreams didn't help either. I was so… weak… and useless. Slow, slower than I had ever been, sloshing around in invisible peanut butter, just barely dodging the neverending incoming projectiles among which was a train for some reason. At least it was a dream appropriate for a future shinobi. Appropriately forgettable and perhaps a bit terrifying.

Breakfast was a roasted potato. No butter or other meat or vegetables or anything. Being from the southern United States, I at least wanted butter on my potatoes. I globbed it down my throat.

I sat under a tree and tried to meditate. I had never been good at it Before, having never been instructed or anything like that. But having an extra circulatory system I could proprioceptively sense in myself and even grasp gave me something concrete to focus on, and in the past two years minus a month and a half, I had found it useful for building up and balancing my chakra. Opening the meridians it flowed through. Trying different combinations of opened and closed points and learning how they felt without manually altering them through tracing. I hadn't the luxury for it while we were travelling, but since we seemed to be staying for a few days, I had time.

It was also useful for restoring mental and emotional calm, which I really needed today.

"Kizuna, come, it's time to train."

I gritted my teeth, mental calm lost. I was in the middle of something. How could he not tell that this was indeed part of my training?

"Now, Kizuna."

I resisted an age-old urge to beat myself into submission just so he would stop telling me what to do, but I really just wanted to finish my meditation. My mouth wouldn't listen to me though, and so I got up silently and stiffly and walked over to Tou-san.

He frowned.

I swallowed and refused to meet his eyes.

"Kizuna, I know something's up. Why don't you tell me?"

"I haven't said anything," I caught myself saying. "How could you tell something's up?"

"You think I don't know my own daughter?" he retorted.

No, I don't think you do. I stared back at him blankly.

"Seriously. Tell me what's wrong."

I lowered my head, staring at some dot on my shoe or something, then looked back up at him. "Tou-san, what are we doing here?"

Tou-san looked taken aback. "What?"

"I mean." I looked down again and self-consciously began digging my toe into the dirt. "You're establishing connections with people as if we are going to be around for a good long while, so we're not tourists. But we're not settling down in a house or apartment or anything."

I could hear him fold his arms. "Isn't it obvious?"

I looked back up at him. "Humor me. Tell me."

"Survival training."

I blinked. "What -"

"Think fast!"

Before I could think, Bunshirou grabbed my shoulders, spinning us around before literally throwing me at a tree. In a panic I funnelled chakra to the right side of my body, cushioning the blow as I slammed into the tree, then instinctually jerked it to the left, creating a current that effectively suctioned me to the tree just long enough to figure out how to land on my feet when I eventually dropped to the ground, exhausted and in pain and maybe slightly thankful for the little bit of meditation I had managed. I glared at Bunshirou.

"The hell? What was that for?!"

"Tree climbing training, which I'm glad to see you can do." I think there was a hint of approval, though there was no slackening of the hardass instructor persona he had suddenly donned. "It'll help when you're training for other things like when we get into ninjutsu. And you aren't always going to have the luxury of fighting someone who talks their entire game."

"Oh my god, I'm not even five." I shook my aching head. "Plus, if you were going to do this, then why didn't you do it while we were actually traveling and surviving?"

"Your mother's dead. What are you going to do when I'm gone too? I have a target on my back, I could be taken out at any time. Where does that leave you?"

I did not fail to notice that he did not answer my question. But I was getting seriously annoyed. "I'll deal with it when it happens!"

"You're not even FIVE!"

"I can be a civilian. I can weasel my way into another shinobi family if I have to."

"And what if you can't? What if you die too?" He was legitimately shouting at this point. So much for not attracting attention. "Who will carry on the legacy of the Imanara and your mother?"

I snorted. "Well that's empowering, knowing I exist only to carry on a legend of an unjustifiably arrogant clan. Also, we don't know that mom's dead. They took her, they didn't necessarily kill her."

"She might as well be dead," he sniffed. "We'll probably never see her again anyway."

I shook my head and turned around. "I don't need to listen to this."

"Get back here, young lady," Bunshirou growled. "You do not disrespect me by walking away."

I didn't bother to turn my head to face him as I walked away. "Come find me when you're done wallowing."


It's not like I actually had an objection to survival training. I just really hated that he seemed to think that Kaa-san not being around meant her methods couldn't be around either.

I also hated his fatalistic attitude about everything. I bet that, had he lived in the world I had grown up in, he would have been one of those tinfoil hat wearing conspiracy theorists. The world was out to get him and the illuminati could have us killed the moment they sensed that we had unplugged from the Matrix.

It reminded me sometimes of my mother. Minus the clan legacy junk and the extremes of conspiracy theories. (She only ever wore tinfoil that one time she tried having highlights in her black hair.)

(Of course, we were well aware that the government was in bed with some large, powerful corporations that didn't necessarily have we the people's best interests and well-being in mind.)

And I knew they both loved me and that I was being a brat this time around. Hiding in an oversized, too-hot pool of water, my skin pink as my hair while Tou-san surely anguished over my well-being and my mental state. I had given up swimming about thirty minutes ago and was simply marinating now.

But what else could I have done? I had submitted to my mother in that other life, pandered to most of her worries so that she could feel better about herself. And what had I gotten out of it? A tendency never to walk my own path because stepping out into a life just wasn't safe. Sitting on the couch watching endless YouTube videos and living my life vicariously through anime characters and Fanfiction. Going nowhere.

Sometimes I wondered if that was the reason I had been unceremoniously dumped into this world full of danger and adventure, making up for my previous life of inaction and missed opportunities.

For example, I never would have gone skinny dipping in a public hot spring. And here I was. Heck, I could have stood on the water and danced if I wanted to. (Or not. While I could water walk, it wasn't anywhere near the subconscious level I would have needed in order to dance.)

I sank further into the water where I sat on the underwater step, blowing bubbles from my nose in front of my eyes.

Maybe he was so fatalistic because he sensed that I had died already. It would make sense - most self inserts, or at least all of the ones I had read in Fanfiction from that other life, were the result of the character's death in their first world, and my situation was similar enough for comparison. I had already lost an entire life; it made sense if he did not want me to lose another one and was just terrible at speaking aloud his reasons.

Maybe he was trying to give me a reason to keep living, something that might understandably be lacking in someone who had already experienced death once. I wasn't sure that applied to me though since I had zero recollection of the events that transpired between my last intact other life memories and being butt naked and freezing, fresh out of Kaa-san's oven. I didn't even know then.

Could it therefore be said that I had experienced death when I had no memories to corroborate it?

"Aren't you a little young to be in here?" someone asked.

I lifted my face out of the steamy water and rubbed at my temples as the speaker, a blonde girl, settled into the water next to me. I waited until she was all the way in to look at her. Her dark eyes regarded me carefully, and I looked away.

Well damn. A nosey outsider had come in. Now I had to stay and sulk some more.

"Aren't you a little young to have the weight of a world on your face?" she said.

"You might be surprised," I mumbled, standing up and ignoring her eyes on my underage body. I stepped out of the pool and began to towel myself dry. At least I could be dry and not so cold while she unloaded.

"That's my line," she said. "At least you're obvious."

I paused drying myself. Did I want to hear this girl's story, spend even more time wallowing in what my other life had become?

No, not really.

I wrapped myself in the towel, waved my goodbye, and went back inside, steeling myself to go back to Tou-san and his inevitable lectures, among the first of which would undoubtedly be the inappropriateness of a four-and-a-half-year-old going by herself to a public hot spring in a country that wasn't yet quite home.

(I still was no closer to figuring out why we were staying here in the first place.)

But in order to live, I first had to survive.

And isn't that all Bunshirou wanted in the first place?


I didn't have a clue where Tou-san would be hiding in this place, but it couldn't be too hard to find him in a village this small.

Indeed, there he was, the moment I stepped outside the bathhouse, glasses shining, the only thing light about his face as he snatched up my Standard Female Grab Area and began dragging me away. Oh, this was going to be bad.

I supposed I was expecting him to take longer to find me, but, thinking about it, he had had so much time to find me in this tiny village that he had undoubtedly eliminated every other place long before I had thought to leave the hot spring. The only thing stopping him from coming in and getting me was that the spring had separate facilities for males and females, and there was no way he was walking into a women's changing room.

"What the hell were you doing in there?" he growled once we were away from people, shaking dangerously.

I had never heard this tone out of him. I recognized it, similar to the one I had heard from my mother when I had done something incredibly stupid.

"Sorting out thoughts about -"

"I don't want to hear it," he interrupted.

Then why'd you even ask? I steeled myself. "I was trying to cool down!"

"You don't need to cool down, especially not in a hot spring!"

"So did you want me to just stay and stew in it?"

"No!" he snapped. "I expect you to listen to me and obey -"

"Like a mindless little servant, okay-"

SMACK!

I twisted around and raised my hands at him, palms open, trying to ignore the stinging of where his hand had hit my face and the welling of tears in my eyes. (So much for cooling down.)

I don't want to fight you. Why am I fighting you?

He was poised to backhand me, but I twisted out of the way in time, sweeping my leg around as well. Of course in the battle between a grown, experienced shinobi's tree trunk leg and a tiny, fresh, four-year-old twiggy leg, the shinobi is going to win. I ended up flat on my back, and before I could blink Bunshirou was on top of me, a steel trap keeping me pinned to the cold stone beneath me. I bit back more tears. A few escaped anyway.

I could see Bunshirou's purple eyes, a fire of emotion burning a hole in the already burning, reddening handprint on my cheeks. And then they were obscured by his own tears.

"I expect you to respect me because I am your father and I am responsible for you." He was shaking now, adding to the pressure on my body being squished between his body and the ground. "I expect you to listen to me and do as I say because you are still young and inexperienced. And how else are you going to learn?"

I never wanted to fight you. Why are you doing this? How did we end up like this?

I fought to squash that self pitying voice playing inside my head, and while I managed to stop the why me whining, I couldn't stop the stupidly defiant I'll show him voice.

Me. I'm how we ended up like this.

He wanted me to do as he said? Fine. I'd do that. I gritted my teeth, fighting my inner dialogue and my decision and the inevitability that that decision would come to pass.

Bunshirou finally got off of me. I lay there for a moment, panting and trying to slow my breathing, before rolling over, sitting up and crouching into a bow.

"Hai, Otou-sama," I said, putting on the best docile and submissive voice I could muster.

I could practically hear his eyes narrow in disgust. "And cut the shitty attitude."

My body tensed again as I tried to keep the internal pity party at bay. I was going to grind my teeth into nubs at this point.

And in that moment, I think Uchi Naru Kizuna was born.


Disclaimer: I do not claim to know much about mental illness aside from what Wikipedia and PsychCentral and a handful of people on Quora say, and I do not claim to be representing it in this story.

A|N: This chapter almost didn't happen. And it almost wasn't on time (for those in the States at least). Yay writer's block.

Also I've been watching too much RWBY. I'm hoping to use it to improve my combat writing scenes. I looked back to one of my old Code Lyoko stories Cliffhanger the other day and I was like, Why is this scene so good? Why do all my other action scenes suck? XD Anyway, there's a bit of time for that so.

I may up the story rating to M, depending on how I end up writing certain scenes.

GlidingOne, my beta and one of my bestest fwends in da whole wide world, has released a new story in the DC universe. Go check it out!