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. . .
When Takashi brought me home that night, Mum freaked.
Like, literally freaked.
When Takashi set me in front of her, I immediately slumped, falling back into my brother's hard chest with all the grace of the clumsiest person in the Elemental Countries.
She was in the kitchen at the time, presumably cooking our dinner, Dad was nowhere to be seen so I assumed that he was on some mission or other. When Mum heard our entrance, she turned, but the bowl she was holding soon clattered to the ground. Within a split-second of a second, she had gracefully swooped across the kitchen and was in front of me, her nimble hands gripping my shoulders tightly.
"What in Suna's name happened?" She cried, voice going steely soft.
Mum's green eyes were wide, and in her desperation, several strands of black hair had become loose from the tight bun pinned to the top of head, and were... floating around her head as she spoke.
Mum's sharp eyes narrowed in on mine, and I winced, for I knew that I would be in for a very big scolding. In the span of a second, my mother had taken hold of my face in her hands and pulled me close, relinquishing me from Takashi's grip. Soon enough, her lips were pressed to my forehead, and she seemed to wince in realisation.
I realised what she was doing, as well- taking my temperature.
Her lips left my skin, and I was suddenly pulled close. I didn't mind, though. But it was quite uncomfortable to have the brunt of her slightly swollen stomach pressing against my chest. And if you're wondering why my mother is fat, then you're in for a surprise.
She's not obese or anything. No, my mother's pregnant with my little sister, or so I hoped.
I just really, really, really wanted a baby sister.
"You're burning up, Yūmaru," she murmured, gripping me tighter. I could feel her long fingers carding through my hair, but I paid it no mind.
I also discreetly noticed Takashi slipping out, but I also paid that no mind. Instead, I just concentrated on the feeling of my mother's arms around me, and the weight of her unborn child upon myself.
"Kaa-chan," I mumbled, and I could feel my eyelids getting heavy.
But before I could fully fall asleep, I felt myself being scooped up and carried somewhere.
A hidden smile curled at my lips.
I instantly recognised the sweet, slightly musty scent of my bedroom, and when I was set on something soft, I curled into a foetal position, my fingers tightly gripping at the collar of my shirt.
My clothes were dirty and stank of sweat, but at that time, I couldn't care less.
I was just so tired.
Strangely, my mother didn't to care either, for she said, "I know you're dirty, and goodness knows what else Takashi got you into, but I just want you to rest."
"'kashi was trainin' me," I murmured, cracking open a droopy eye.
From the line of my blurry vision, I saw Mum's form momentarily stiffen. I saw her hand grip the door's knob so tight that her knuckles began to turn white.
"I don't know if I'm okay with my only daughter becoming a Shinobi," she said quietly, so quietly that my tired mind had to strain to hear it.
"Tou-san and 'kashi are Shinobi," I retorted sleepily. "So why can't I be? Why can't I protect my village with my life?"
There was a pause, then: "You know, Yūmaru, I think this is the most I have heard you say in a single sentence."
Mum's voice was bemused, as if she was speaking with an infant.
But I refused to get angry, because wasn't that what I was really regarded in this world?
An infant, I mean.
I was only three years old, and sure I was turning four in only a few days. But there's a question that's been bugging me since my abrupt arrival in this world.
Is it even worth it?
Is it worth it to even attempt to change the future?
I mean, not that it would do anything in the long run.
It's just how my big brother said: "People die everyday."
Was it worth it to save these people, these strangers from their imminent deaths?
It wouldn't even do anything. Well sure, I might save someone, hell even people. But after that, what then?
What then?
What will happen in one year, ten years even?
They don't deserve, and I don't deserve this second chance, because-
"Being a Shinobi is literally a death sentence," Mum murmured softly.
"I know," I growled, casting my now opened eyes to my blanketed lap. "But I want to help. Because being a Shinobi means that I can protect you, Kaa-chan, because I love you so, so much, and I don't want anything to happen to you."
By the end of my embarrassing tirade, I was blinking back tears, and Mum had taken to sitting at the corner of my bed, a reassuring hand on my shoulder.
I gawked at the soft look in her fierce green eyes.
"It's a mother's job to protect their children, Yū-chan," she explained softly, gracing me with such a loving smile that it made me want to childishly burst into tears right then and there.
But I held it back.
Mum then gently eased me back onto the matteress, and I sighed, completely put out by everything. I was half-asleep by the time Mum left the room.
And I was asleep by the time she had softly closed the door.
. . .
When I next woke, it was to the feeling of large, warm fingers gently brushing strands of loose hair out of my face, and lovingly skimming across my forehead and down my cheeks.
I blearily opened my eyes, blinking groggily, and I was met with the sight of bemused onyx eyes.
Dad was sitting on the edge of my bed, and I only just noticed that his hand was buried in my mess of red hair, fingers gripping the strands lightly, ruffling it when I grimaced.
"Tou-san," I whined childishly.
The corner of his mouth twitched, and I knew that he was fighting to keep his stoic face. Using that as a distraction, I successfully managed to untangle the feel of his fingers in my hair.
"Hah!" I cried. "Take that!"
Dad chuckled before standing up, and it was then that I noticed that he seemed to be holding his breath, his dark eyes skimming up and down my tiny figure.
That was when I noticed the smell.
It stunk worse than anything I had ever smelt, and that's saying something!
I glanced down and immediately grimaced.
I was still wearing the clothes I had trained in yesterday, and they were grubby and soiled, stinking of fresh sweat and body odour. I suppose I couldn't be blamed for it, though. After all, I did have a fever.
"Yūmaru," Dad murmured, and I glanced at him when I heard the deep timbre of his voice. "I think you should take a bath."
My cheeks flamed, and I cast my glance to the bed sheets tightly gripped in my little fingers. "Yeah," I mumbled. "I guess I should."
"Your mother mentioned that you were sick," Dad suddenly said. He extended a hand out to me, and I accepted it, easily sliding my little fingers into his huge ones. "She said you were running a fever, something about exhausting your chakra, I think."
I resisted the urge to flinch at his words, and instead I merely gripped his hand tighter in my own.
"I want to take your temperature," Dad muttered. "And while I might not be as good as a Medic-nin, I can still help."
With his free hand, he brushed my bangs away from my face before lightly touching the back of his hand to my forehead. I shivered slightly at the feel of his warm fingers on my burning skin, but other than that, I just stood there.
"You're still running a slight fever," Dad announced. "But I think you're well enough to leave the house, at least."
I blinked. "Where am I going?"
Dad smirked. "To see an old friend."
A pause.
"Can't I stay here, then?" I crossed my arms.
"... no."
I pouted childishly. "Why not?" I demanded. "I'm old enough to be left alone; besides, won't Kaa-chan be here?"
Dad shook his head. "No, your mother will be at the hospital to get the baby checked, and Takashi is already on a mission. Therefor you are stuck with me."
"I don't like the way you worded that, Tou-san," I frowned, pressing my elbows uncomfortably into my ribs.
He raised an eyebrow, the corner of his ever so stoic face quirking up the slightest bit. I could tell that he was amused, and that particular thought made me fume.
"No, Yūmaru," he stated sternly. "You will be coming with me whether you like it or not. Now, go bathe and then we can leave."
With that said, he casually strolled toward the door that I had only just noticed was open, his hands stuffed in the pockets of his long, sweeping robes.
Once again, I pouted at his retreating back, but I kept my mouth shut. And with a sigh, I did as he bid, walking after him and to the bathroom, where I promptly stripped off my soiled and sweat-soaked clothes, carelessly stepping into the shower and sighing in glee as the water instantly soaked my fevered skin.
I didn't know how long I just stood there, letting the soothing water dribble into my hair, plastering it to my face. But it must have been quite some time, because I heard rapping on the door, followed by Dad's voice stating, "Yūmaru, you need to get out before you make yourself even sicker than you already are."
But in the fever induced that had completely shrouded my mind, I, of course, didn't hear him. So with a sigh, Dad opened the door and stepped inside, easily sliding open the shower door and gathering my form into his arms.
"I think that's quite enough for today, he said, voice strangely gentle. "Let's get you dressed, shall we?"
So that's how I found myself wondering Sunagakure's dusty streets in search of an "old friend", my hand latched in my father's huge one. I received quite a few stares that morning, though I couldn't blame them. I probably looked quite a sight with my rosy, still fevered cheeks and equally messy hair. In place of my boyish pants and shorts, I was now wearing suitable light blue robes, a pale poncho securing my neck.
My father was wearing the same thing. Though his robes were cream coloured instead. And for once, I wished that he was on a mission, because I really, really, really didn't want to meet his "old friend".
I really didn't.
But the more I seemed to think about it, the more nervous I felt and the clammier my palms became, but I just blamed that on the symptoms of my having a fever.
After what seemed like hours of wondering the streets of Sunagakure, we finally came to a stop outside an unfamiliar looking house. And while Dad walked up the steps with a faint smile curling the edges of his lips, I remained hesitant, and the child in me screamed to hide.
And being the mature being that I was, I decided to-
Approach the situation calmly.
-hide behind my father's leg like a little baby while he knocked on the door.
A few moments later, the door swung open to reveal a little boy with a shock of white hair. And since I was practically attached to my father's leg, I couldn't fully see him.
However, my Dad greeted the little boy warmly, I saw the faintest traces of a gentle smile cross the boy's lips, and he let us in without any complaint.
"Ah, Hiroshi-kun," Dad murmured. "I would like for you to meet my daughter, Yūmaru."
Gently, Dad pushed me forward, and as I approached the little boy, I bowed my head, my usual shyness taking hold. I refused to look up, even when I was told to.
Don't let this stupid shyness control you! I scolded myself.
Twisting my fingers into the fabric of my robes, I blurted, "M-My name's Yūmaru, nice to meet you!"
I immediately blushed afterward, but my mortification died when the boy all but shoved his hand out, a gentle smile creasing his lips.
"My name is Hiroshi," he replied softly. "Nice to meet you, too."
A smile of my own beginning to form, I awkwardly laced my fingers in his in a tentative handshake.
"Now that you know each other," Dad said suddenly. "Would you mind telling me where your father is, Hiroshi-kun?"
"In the sitting room, Kishi-san," Hiroshi murmured in that soft voice of his. "He's been expecting you."
Dad seemed to ignore Hiroshi's second comment, for he said, "How many times have I told you to simply call me Sosuke?"
"Twenty seven times," Hiroshi answered tonelessly, though I could clearly see the smile underneath the fringe of ghost-white hair. "Go to the sitting room, Sosuke-san, Otou-sama is waiting."
"You haven't changed a bit, Hiroshi-kun," Dad commented teasingly.
"Neither have you, Sosuke-san," Hiroshi answered evenly.
With a faint smile, Dad bid me goodbye, and when he left the room, I was left alone with a four year old boy that I had never met in my life.
And I swear that Hiroshi was even worse than Sasori.
And that's saying something!
Well, at least Hiroshi wasn't as rude as he was, and come to think of it, he doesn't even seem like the type to be rude. In fact, I don't really think that there's such thing as a rude bone in his body, because from what I saw, Hiroshi was really gentle.
"A-Ano, Hiroshi-san," I murmured shyly, casting my eyes from the ground to his face. "But what do we do now?"
After a pause, I then noticed that Hiroshi appeared to staring blankly at my forehead. I frowned, before stepping forward and waving a hand directly in his field of vision.
No response.
My frown deepened, and I then pressed a single finger into his shoulder. There was a reaction then, but it was not one I expected.
Hiroshi flinched violently, holding out a single hand in front of him. Dimly, I noticed that it was shaking.
Sighing, I said, "Uh, are you alright? You just had a pretty violent reaction."
Gradually, Hiroshi began to relax, though his back remained stiff. "Yes," he murmured. "I'm fine."
Twisting my fingers into my robes, I muttered, "Is it alright if I ask why you did that?"
Without answering, Hiroshi pushed his fringe of snowy hair out of the way, and without that shadowing his eyes, I was able to see them properly.
They were green, but they held a dull, milky sheen, and it was almost as if-
"I'm blind," Hiroshi said dully, confirming my line of thought.
I blinked. "Oh." And what else was there to say? I understand?
But that was wrong, because I didn't understand him, and I probably never would.
Then an awkward sort of silence consumed the entry of the house, and that was how it remained until Dad found us. There was also another man with us, but I paid him no mind as I continued to gaze rather intently at the gentle blind boy who seemed rather dull and impassive, but was so fascinating.
Dad cleared his throat, and I looked up to see him wearing his usual stoic expression, then, he ever so subtly inclined his head to the man standing on his left.
The man was tall, incredibly so. But he was stick-thin, and he was pale almost to the point of being sickly. His shaggy white hair shadowed his thin, sharp face, and underneath that shaggy mess, I could clearly see a pair of bright blue eyes.
"Yūmaru, this is Rin Akashi," Dad stated evenly, gazing into my eyes. "He is Hiroshi's father."
"Uh, nice to meet you," I greeted awkwardly.
"A pleasure," he murmured, bowing stiffly.
I repeated the gesture, wondering why Dad was even introducing him in the first place. But a few minutes later, my question was answered.
"From now on, Yūmaru, Rin will be training you in the arts of a Shinobi."