AN: A bit of a longer chapter than last time, and a lot more happens here. I'm gonna do my best with this arc, it's gonna be a bit of skipping around and such while I get into the main bulk of the story. I'm not exactly sure how long this arc is going to last, I'm giving it a base estimate of five chapters but that's just the estimate I have for now, since there's a lot to cram into five chapters, before we can get into the academy arc.

Anyway, I hope you enjoy, and thank you for reading!

I'm no Dorothy.

Now Sarah? Sarah is a Dorothy. Her wide eyed innocence and childlike wonder never ceased to amaze me. No matter where we went, no matter what we saw, she watched each scenery pass by in absolute adoration. From towering trees so tall we could not see the tops, to ancient empires long since abandoned. Arenas of weathered stone dusted with soft sand, crumbling under the test of time.

It was therapeutic, in a way. Seeing so many new places, progressing at our own pace (or rather, her pace), and just being able to relax. There was no rush to go forward, although we could not backtrack. I will say, however, the slowly creeping terror of knowing we were approaching the end at an unknown velocity was terrifying. In an abstract way that is, maybe it was anxiety? Yeah it was probably the anxiety of knowing everything was going to come to a sudden halt when we got to the end, and the inevitability of having to face the unknown was terrifying.

But hey, at least we're technically on a road trip together.

I like road trips.

Road trips mean long amounts of time admiring scenery, spending time with people you like, and being happy. I mean, sure there are sucky parts of road trips, like when you get carsick, or your window doesn't roll down, or your friend decides to sing only shitty pop music for an hour to piss you off so then you have to sing Tiptoe by the Tulips back at her. Or like, when your friend decides to lay on the ground and not move for twenty minutes because she's mad. Or she decides that, to drown out your song, she's going to sing god awful country music until you refuse to move until she stops.

You know, the typical road trip stuff.

Okay we... weren't exactly the best road trip buddies but to be fair we'd been stuck together for a solid... month? No way longer than that. Damn afterlife with no way to measure time, and see how long you've been bickering over petty shit with your new friend for. I want some god damn real solid answers so I can quote her on that. I want to be able to look her in the eye and say "I've been dealing with your shit for three years, nine hours, and twenty seven minutes."

I'm sure she'd do the same to me though, and I'm certainly not angry at her for that in any way. I mean, I'd definitely use it against her in a petty argument, but I wouldn't actually hold it over her head. I can't do that anyway, considering I killed her. She'd just be able to quote that at me, it's an instant argument winner, and she should be proud to have such power over me, honestly.

Anyway, it came as no surprise that we were both relieved when we got to the end of our path (or rather, her path).

The anxiety churning in my gut came to a lurching halt as cold numbness took over my body. I wasn't ready for this, for any of this, but I put on my best smile and turned to Sarah, who had a calm, accepting look on her face. It wasn't a surprise that she was so calm - that was what the whole road was meant to do. The entire point of the road and the path was to let the person have their own time in a single place like our meadow until the person was ready to move on. Then the road would appear, and eventually they'd take it, and learn that things aren't so bad, etc etc. Then in the end, they're ready to move on and be done with all of this. They'd forget, and leave everything they knew behind, because they were ready to move on, no matter how long it took, no matter how often they stopped or how long they stayed, they just moved on.

I wasn't ready.

I wasn't ready, because I hadn't taken my own path at my own pace.

But I couldn't cry and complain now, after things were said and done. I couldn't complain now, when she was so close to moving on that the end was literally staring me in the face. I couldn't take that from her. So I smiled, and bucked up, and looked to her for what she wanted to do.

"Huh."

"I don't know what I was expecting out of this, to be honest, but I don't think it was this."

"I mean, I wasn't either, but it's kinda poetic, don't you think?" I ask, shrugging my shoulders as I stare at her.

"What?"

"It's poetic, like, the whole journey is moving on, and then you get here and it's like, the end." I say, letting go of her hand to sit at the foot of the grave. "This is the end, you're dead, and that's okay."

"You... You really think so?" She asks hopefully, gently folding her legs underneath herself as she sat next to me. "You really think that this is saying everything is okay?"

"Well, I don't think so in every case, and its up to you what the interpretation is, but I personally think so, yeah."

"I guess you are the literature expert, eh?"

"Ha!" I can't help but snort, gently hitting Sarah's arm. "I certainly try, even if it can't compare to the ancient wisdom and knowledge of the great anime master."

"Oh shut it!" Sarah laughs, punching my arm back before pulling herself up and giving herself a pompous air. "But I'll agree, I must be far ahead of you, oh young one."

We share a laugh for a moment, before eventually falling silent, the only sound our own breathing. There's nothing to say, and although the silence certainly wasn't uncomfortable, I still found myself longing to say something. There were a lot of options before me. What should our final words to each other be? I could say something profoundly poetic, and leave us on a dramatic cliffhanger, or I could say something gentle and comforting. I could say something like 'see you on the other side' or perhaps 'it's gonna be okay', or I could stick to a more melancholy mood.

There were a lot of things I probably should have said in those moments.

But none of them really fit.

So instead, I took a deep breath and stood up, setting my hands on my hips. My gut clenched in fear, and my palms were sweaty, but I took another deep breath against my fear, and turned to look at her. I extended my hand silently, and for a moment she just stared at me, at my hand, uncomprehending what I meant. Then a flash of realization came over her features, and she smiled softly as her hand found mine.

She said nothing, just looked at me and nodded as we stepped closer to the grave.

"C'mon, let's get going, yeah?"

"Yeah."

Without another word, we plunged down into that earthen coffin, and the unending darkness it included. Our bodies fading from view, our consciousnesses becoming part of that soft nothingness. It was comforting, like sleep, but sudden and soft and I found myself helpless to do anything about it, but I couldn't care less. Nothing mattered anymore - there was nothing to see. There was nothing to see, or hear, or feel, it was just a sense of being part of something without actually existing. It would have been disorienting, if I had orientations to have disoriented. It wasn't quite unlike going to sleep, so that's what I'll call it - we just went to sleep.

And eventually, I woke up.

When consciousness finally came, I found myself robbed of most of my senses.

Everything was dark, and noises were muddled if they were there at all, and I couldn't smell or taste, and there was nothing to touch. I was unable to reach out for comfort because my limbs wouldn't obey me, and with no sense of up or down I couldn't begin to fathom trying to go anywhere even if I could. I was lost, scared, and horribly alone. There was nothing for me here, except for the rhythmic pulsing in my chest, and the way sleep tugged at my brain every few minutes.

It was a fight just to stay awake, and when I did manage to grasp onto the slim shred of control over myself, it was fleeting and my mind was muddled.

Yet there was nothing I could do to remedy it.

I had no control over myself, except for the sliver of consciousness I was awarded every so often. When I was able to keep my head on straight, I constantly tried to stretch and move and make sense of where I was, although that didn't get me far. I would try and break free of whatever was keeping me here, only to slowly drift back into numbness, and fall asleep once more, submitting myself to the darkness.

Eventually, I began to dream.

It was hard to make sense of dreaming and reality, a fact which I was constantly furious over.

Nightmares plagued my sleeping hours, as though to mock me for the little control that I had during their waking counterpart. Fear, panic, terror, and the feeling of being trapped. Cold metal against my arms, pain dully aching in my legs as metal trapped them in place. Warmth from hands on mine, and a rattling whistle clacking my teeth together.

The last words echoed in my brain.

"Don't look."

"Don't look."

And eventually, I gave up.

There was no point in fighting against my own body and mind, I'd just lose in the end.

So I gave up.

I slept when I felt tired, I moved when I felt cramped, and I let the dull echoing sound all around me calm me. Once I finally let myself be comfortable, once I finally gave in, I was much better off. I didn't have to think, or feel, or fight against my own brain. I just... existed. I was at peace, finally, after so long of fighting against myself it didn't matter anymore!

It was nice.

It was nice to finally, blissfully, be unable to think. It was amazing to not have to worry about where I was, or what was going on, and the anxiety that came with it. I didn't have to care about Sarah, always worrying about her feelings, and happiness, and I didn't have to feel guilty anymore! I didn't have to feel anything! That was the best part! I didn't have to care anymore, I didn't have to care about anything, not Sarah, or myself, or the circumstances which had led to this point.

It was the single best time of my entire life, afterlife, and new life.

But of course, all good things have to come to an end.

According to every person in my life, I was born on March twenty-eighth during the year of the Kyuubi attack.

I don't remember much from my early childhood, let alone my birth, so I couldn't give you a great amount of detail, or even much an account at all. I only remember that blissful numbness, where I didn't have to care about myself or anyone or thing else, and then suddenly being plunged into a new environment. Bright lights, blurs of color, and an assault on every single one of my senses. The hands holding me were too rough, my body unbearably hot but the room deathly cold, and so much noise I thought my eardrums would burst. There was no up or down or left or right.

So naturally, I cried.

It's a natural reaction for a baby, and I'll admit that I wasn't exactly myself back then, so I can't really be too hard on little Umeko.

I'd gone from sensory deprivation to overload within the span of seconds, and then I hadn't even been able to voice my complaints. I had no control over my limbs, or my bodily functions, and I certainly had barely any control of my voice past the screaming and crying. It was absolute hell.

Hell, I couldn't even think straight.

For the first six months of my life I was the worst child to raise.

My mind had certainly deteriorated during my time growing in my mother's womb, probably some sort of cosmic retribution for daring to follow a path I wasn't meant to. It was like fighting an uphill battle in the rain, and the hill you're on is made of dirt, and sand. I could hardly make sense of what was going on half the time, when I was able to make conscious decisions, and when I wasn't I was basically watching from a side perspective as my baby flesh prison wreaked havoc upon her diapers.

I must have been a little hellion for my parents, bouncing back and forth from lovely cute baby to a too-smart-for-her-own-good baby with a tinge of adventure. I would go from drooling on a rattle to shaking it violently when I wanted something, or sometimes I'd even hit my parents with it on purpose (though this... was a mixed bag considering I didn't have great coordination). It's a miracle that they didn't take me in for evaluation or something, considering how I acted was more reminiscent of a split personality (which... I suppose I technically was) than a weird baby.

I didn't even care about my parents much at first. It wasn't that I hated them, I just... didn't know them. I didn't see the point in forming an attachment when my body had that covered, after all. It wasn't important to form bonds with them at first, because I wasn't even really sure I was real at the time, or that I was going to last long. After all, premature children tend to come with a list of complications, especially when multiples. I could die in my sleep at any given moment, and rectify the cosmic mistake that had allowed me to follow Sarah in the first place.

I was... actually close to giving up when it happened.

The Kyuubi attack.

I was all of six months old, playing with Sakura in our play pen, when I felt this jolt of terror. I couldn't tell what was going on for a few moments, my heart seizing in my chest as that wave of malevolent chakra swept over me. Sakura began to cry next to me, and I felt as though I'd been doused with cold water.

My senses were suddenly and dangerously alert, though I was powerless to do anything but wait for our slow, slow death.

It felt like an eternity as we lay there, Sakura crying and wailing for help as I desperately rolled over and grasped onto her little pink onesie. The house rattled and rocked as we were trapped, both of us unable to help the other. My breath caught in my throat for an infinite amount of time, before I felt a pair of fingers brushing against my back.

I remember my mother grunting, arms shaking as she settled her hand on my back and side.

She gently shushed me, and I took a shuddering breath in, and then back out, as my lungs seemed to finally remember their primary use. Sakura kept crying, big, loud wailing that didn't stop. The hand moved over me, and brushed against my sister, and it seemed to help calm her down as mother's shaking hand gently soothed her.

Sakura fell silent, aside from little hiccuping sobs, and then the hand moved back.

I rolled over, and looked at my mother, tears streaming down her face as she drug herself across the ground with her arms. She drug herself over to the wheelchair in the corner - and emergency one, I think I remembered my father saying, and for a long moment, she just looked at it. I watched her shoulders shake with effort, and I could faintly hear her ragged breathing (so loud that it broke through the blood rushing in my ears).

She stared at the wheelchair a moment, before reaching her arm out and pulling it closer.

She struggled to get in it, unable to stand up on her own, and then she slumped down on the floor and I felt my heart stop. If she couldn't get up, if she couldn't get in that wheelchair and get us out, then we were fucked. There was no way the two of us could get out of this house on our own, hell I could barely crawl an inch forward on my own, let alone however far it was to get help.

So naturally, I did the only thing I could think of.

I cried.

I'd like to say I did it on purpose, that I summoned all of my willpower and cried upon command to try and snap her out of it. But... in all honesty, it wasn't. I just... got afraid. I didn't know what to do, and I was scared, and so I started crying, my eyes shut tight as I wailed so hard it got Sakura to start crying again too.

And then, after what seemed like an eternity, I heard a tearing sound, and hands were on my sides.

Mom cradled me against her chest, tears streaking down her flushed face as she desperately rocked me, before she grabbed Sakura too, pressing both of us tight against her as she calmed us down. She seemed to have thought of everything too, because soon we were strapped into a harness on her chest, and we were carefully, but quickly, moving out of the house.

We didn't make it far out of the house before a ninja came and got us, quickly carrying us to the safety of the shelters.

But it was in that moment that I realized two things.

One - I was in the Naruto world. The way that boy effortlessly picked my mother up out of her wheelchair and carried her to the shelters, combined with the emblem on his forehead, the giant mountain with faces etched into it that certainly wasn't Mount Rushmore, and the giant fucking fox with nine tails that was trashing the town made it pretty damn clear what was going on. Everything clicked into place for the first time, and I was petrified. Living in the Naruto world was asking for a death wish, or for heart break. But living in the Hidden Leaf village was a promise of those things.

And the second, damning conclusion, was that I was powerless to do anything.

I learned that it wasn't about being determined or strong, or fighting for what you believed in, or some other morally high bullshit.

No, what I learned was that the dark shit you think is only in your nightmares is everywhere. That this life was full of pain and suffering, and there was nothing I could do about it but desperately cling to life and those I loved. The only thing I could do was clutch tightly onto my mother's shirt as we were rocked to sleep in the shelter caves. So really, the only thing I could do in the future, was to desperately cling onto what little I had by any means necessary.

At the end of the day, it wasn't a happy accident where I found a new determination to do better and protect what I had. There was no happy ending when countless civilians, and ninja, and children and mothers died due to the destruction of that day. There was nothing I could do, nothing I could do no matter how strong I got - there would always be someone waiting to knock me down and the only thing I would be able to do when that happened would be to desperately cling to life and try and keep the ones I loved. I wasn't a hero by any means. I couldn't be the big happy strong person that would be typical of a protagonist.

I was powerless to stop that from happening then, and I knew I'd be powerless to stop any future events that would take place in this world, of which there were many.

The plot would play as it always did, promises of heartache and pain that were etched onto the fate of this world. Playing it safe wasn't an option - there was no safe when you lived as a ninja, and that was undoubtedly what I would have to do in order to survive, and keep my sister alive. You couldn't play things safe when you trained to be a killing machine, and are used as the pawns for some sick game that I didn't even know all the pieces to.

Perhaps that was my karmic retribution.

Being trapped in a world with people I loved when I had limited knowledge.

I had no detailed accounts of the people I would meet (hell, I'd only gotten to the Chunin Exam arc in the anime, and all of my other knowledge was picked up on from fanfiction), or the events that would shape this world. I had no idea what would happen, or how things would take place, or hell, how I would effect any of those events!

I couldn't play it safe because there was no safe to play by.

Not when you're Haruno Umeko, sister to Haruno Sakura, future member of Team Seven, and one of the key heroes in the entire world. Apprentice to the legendary Tsunade, and one of the main people who would have to endure all of the pain and suffering that would surely drift her way.

My future, and the future of this world, was unclear, uncertain, and full of pain and misery.

And all I could do in relation to that, was to fight against the current and cling to anything I could for dear life.