Disclaimer: I gain no profit from this story, blah, blah, blah; I don't own anything. Let's move on.

A/N: I can't believe it's already been a month since my last update, I hope you guys are all keeping well, eating healthy, exercising, etc. No? Don't worry, neither am I.

Also, a bunch more of you guys have recently started following this story – welcome. And thanks to everyone who reviewed the last chapter: Yellow Pearl Voice, katchile94, Sethera, PPN (guest), Katio, SilverRider09, and helenGet.

I'll see you at the bottom of the chapter.

Chapter 8: Nothing But Trouble

"S-sensei. C-can we please stop running now?" Complained a thin boy with glasses somewhere to my left as we ran around the perimeter of Training Grounds Twelve.

"If you have the energy to complain, you have the energy to run!" Norisa-sensei snapped, jogging alongside us effortlessly. She held a long whip in one hand, which she would crack menacingly on the heels of any stragglers falling too far behind the pack of running students.

Many things had changed between our first year at the Academy and our second year. For one thing, almost a quarter of our cohort had dropped out of the Academy; I didn't know if they had been kicked out or if they'd just quit because they hadn't found the shinobi life as appealing as they thought it to be. Not that it particularly mattered. I was still here and that was all that mattered to me. At least Izumo and Kotetsu had made it through the year, which amazed me.

"Faster!" There was a crack from Norisa-sensei's whip somewhere behind me.

Those of us with enough energy let out groans coloured with our varying stages of desperation at the directive, but we picked up the pace regardless. It seemed like Norisa-sensei fed off of the suffering of others…

In my training routine, I'd been trialling running these kinds of marathons without enhancing my muscles with chakra, hoping that if the need arose I would be able to move faster and last longer than my peers, but all it did was tire myself out faster. I learnt the hard way during running class that it was harder to focus chakra with a fatigued body and mind than if I had been using chakra all along.

But still. I'd have to keep at it. I'd been trialling for several weeks now, and there was already a notable improvement in my speed and stamina.

"Faster!"

Takahata-sensei is nothing compared to Norisa-sensei, I thought, contemplating the dark-haired woman running alongside us with the whip in her hand. A whip. Did shinobi even use whips?

"I hate this," Anko grumbled to my right. "I hate her."

"Shh! She'll hear you!"

"Like I care. Do you think I'll be instantly promoted to genin if I kill her? She is a chūnin; you'd have to be a pretty impressive academy student to kill a chūnin, right? Actually maybe I'll skip straight to chūnin."

"I guess," I agreed, noncommittally. I would have shrugged my shoulders but was trying to provide as little physical indication to Norisa-sensei that we were talking during her declared "running-time". She'd probably make us run at the front of the group as punishment.

"You don't think I could take her?" Anko asked.

Sweet Lord, Anko had an inflated ego. No way would she be able to take on a genin, let alone a chūnin.

I was saved from answering by the 'Crack!' of Norisa-sensei's whip, followed by a loud yelp.

Twisting around, I could see that it had been a boy with spikey black hair only slightly older than me falling behind at the back of the group, zigzagging wildly to escape Norisa-sensei's whip as she tried to hit him with it.

"Somebody help! There's a madman after me!" He cried.

Crack!

"Sorry! Sorry! Madwoman!"

Crack!

"Uh? Happy woman?"

Crack!

"An independent woman who doesn't need a man to—"

Crack!

"What do you want from me?!"

I felt a little bad for the guy to be honest, but no way was I going to intervene.

"We should intervene," Anko stage-whispered; jogging closer to me so I could hear her. How come she was my opposite in so many ways? We honestly should have killed each other a long time ago through some disagreement or other.

"Are you crazy? Do you want to be eaten alive by the 'whip-bitch'?" I asked, incredulous, referring to our favourite teacher by our pet name for her.

"C'mon. It'll be fun."

"No. It won't."

She pouted. "You never follow any of my ideas."

"Sure, I do. Remember the prank we played on Guy-kun?" I reminded.

"That doesn't count. I meant a good idea that you weren't initially opposed to."

"We went to that new dango stand last week, that was your idea."

"Actually, that was a good idea. We should go there again soon." Anko said, not bothering to hide the fact that she was salivating heavily at the thought of eating more dango.

"Now that's a good idea, Anko."

Anko shook her head briefly. "Stop trying to distract me! We're saving that poor, innocent Uchiha man-child if it's the last thing we do!"

I snorted derisively. "It'll be the last thing you do—wait, Uchiha? He's an Uchiha?" I looked at the dark haired boy again, watching the comical spouts of tears from his eyes as he barely avoided another whiplashing. He definitely didn't exude the same sense of quiet confidence that the other Uchiha did, although I supposed he shared the same basic features. Dark eyes, black hair, pale skin. But that was where the similarities ended, where the other Uchiha's I'd met were reserved and rather conceited, he was practically bursting with energy.

"Yeah, that guy's Obito Uchiha. He's notorious for being the first Uchiha to reach the position of dead-last in Academy history." Anko glanced at me sideways. "I'm surprised you haven't heard of him."

O... Obito Uchiha…?

I remembered him. He was the 'Naruto' of the previous generation. Of my current generation, I supposed. He was the epitome of positivity and energy within Team Minato. Upbeat and ready to force his "glass half-full" opinions on Kakashi and anyone else that doubted him…

He had had no friends in the Academy, if my memory served me correctly. No one to rely on…

Maybe I…?

Oh God, was I really contemplating going along with Anko's harebrained scheme?

No way.

Yes.

"No." I reiterated. "Besides, if he's dead-last he probably needs the tough love."

Anko's grin turned predatory to say the least. "Looks like I'm going to have to make some destruction by myself…" She reached into her pocket where she usually kept her explosive tags.

"Good. You do that. Leave me out of it. And are you ever going to tell me how you keep getting paper bombs?"

"No chance in hell."

"That you'll tell me where you get your explosives? Or that you'll leave me out of it?"

"Both."

Hiruzen Sarutobi stood in his office, having just received the latest report of the Yūhi girls' exploits. Several explosions had been heard in the vicinity of a second year cohort of Academy students, and, fearing that it was an enemy attack, he had sent a small squad of ANBU to ascertain the situation.

What the situation had turned out to be was a ragtag group of Academy student renegades wanting to cause some trouble. A group of seven – two girls and five boys. Among them was the Yūhi girl.

The report had listed the names: Kotetsu Hagane; Izumo Kamizuki; Ayaka Yūhi; Anko Mitarashi; Genma Shiranui; Might Guy; and Obito Uchiha.

That particular Uchiha boy always created a bit of a stir, but the Mitarashi girl was nothing but trouble. Not that he could do anything about it. Some of his strongest subordinates had started out with having a penchant for mischief.

He sighed.

He had kept his word from all those months ago, keeping an eye on the girl, tracking her progress in the Academy and observing to make certain that she didn't accidently display the abilities she possessed in public. That was very important. Making sure that Ayaka's mother's clan, the Kurama Clan, didn't find out and sink their claws into her. Or begin a custody battle. Hiruzen did not need that kind of stress heaped onto his already very full plate.

The Third Hokage loathed thinking of the possible repercussions of Ayaka falling into the Kurama Clans' sway. The clan had always had an inflated sense of self-worth since before the founding of Konoha, but, with the dwindling number of kekkai genkai-users in their clan, they had sobered a little over the years. He did not have the time – or the patience – to deal with another 'Uchiha clan' lording their kekkai genkai over the other clans and villages.

He sighed again and leant against his desk slightly, massaging his temple with a single hand.

They would find out eventually, of that he was sure. He'd prefer it to be later as opposed to sooner, but he would have to be naïve to believe that no one had noticed that Kurei's two daughters treated each other as strangers, when they had once been so very close.

Not only that, but the family had been summoned to his office in the middle of the night. Anyone with enough resources to keep tabs on the Third Hokage's every move would no doubt have noticed. And possibly investigated.

The one saving grace for the girl, the Sandaime thought wryly, was that her mother had been excommunicated from the Kurama Clan for marrying outside the clan. Kagura's name had been slashed from every record book that the clan held, and so only those who remembered "Kagura Yūhi" as "Kagura Kurama" would know that she ever existed at all.

But still, it wasn't much in terms of defences.

And yet…

Resigned, he sat down at his desk and began shuffling papers around, absentmindedly sorting them into piles. There was nothing more he could do for the Yūhi girl, for Ayaka, at the moment anyway. All those months ago when the Yūhi's, Hatake's and his Sannin had gathered during the night in his office, Kurei and Kagura had both refused to allow the Kurama Clan to gain political patronage of Ayaka. And in doing so, had placed themselves in a very awkward position – and Ayaka in a potentially dangerous one.

There was a reason why most kekkai genkai's occurred in clans. The Kurama Clan, much as he was reluctant to admit, could keep Ayaka safer than her own parents could.

Shaking his head, Hiruzen pushed away the issue. Nothing had happened, he shouldn't stress over a nonissue; he had more important things to worry about, such as the reports he had received from the northern border of the Land of Fire. So far, they were inconclusive and in the midst of undergoing various investigations… but it seemed like a large team of foreign shinobi had crossed the border without informing the border-guards, as diplomatic emissaries should have done.

Hopefully it turned out to be nothing, but still… it was worrisome.

The shuriken hit the tree trunk with a pleasing 'thunk!'. It was the first time today that my shuriken had managed to hit the wooden log without rebounding off the wood, but, whilst being a minor victory, it had still missed the bullseye by a good half foot.

"Focus, Yūhi!" Takahata-sensei called from the other side of the training ground. "You're falling behind the class!"

It was true; by this stage most of my classmates' shuriken were at least making contact with bullseye board on their respective tree logs, while I had spent the past twenty minutes missing the tree. I really needed to lift my game. It was embarrassing. At least Papa wasn't here to see this. Actually, he probably wouldn't even care. It seemed as though he had no inclination to oversee my training these days.

Ever since the incident with Kurenai he no longer taught me genjutsu. Occasionally, he'd tell me to go practice my katas, but other than that he hadn't dared to bring genjutsu back into my training schedule, as if perhaps he thought it would trigger a relapse or something.

It hadn't. The Seal on the nape of my neck had the hands bound tightly, and any tentative or controlled use of my chakra didn't stir them in the slightest.

Picking up another shuriken, I threw it at the bullseye.

Miss.

I had been practicing my genjutsu on my own, in my room, at training grounds – wherever I could – and I had suffered no relapse. The Seal was holding strong, just as it was supposed to. Sure, it made my chakra a little less fluid and malleable, but the genjutsu I was learning were basic ones that didn't require complete accuracy and precision. It was hard, even now, getting familiarised with a chakra that I had had complete control over, but was now rigid and inharmonious – but I supposed it was a small price to pay for complete control over oneself.

I threw another shuriken.

Thunk!

It hit slightly closer to the bullseye mark this time but I wasn't paying too much attention – being too caught up in my own reverie.

It wasn't fair. I wanted to keep my lessons with Papa – books and scrolls could only teach you so much. And there was so many questions that only a person could answer when it came to genjutsu – to casting not just a plausible genjutsu, but knowing exactly when to cast one too. Questions like, how to make someone under the genjutsu feel a certain temperature; or how to make his or her stomach clench in anxiety or fear. There were a lot of aspects to consider in making a realistic illusion.

Aspects that also included psychological manipulation.

Not that that was something I had been looking forward to, but I could admit that it would be an advantageous skill to have as a shinobi.

"YES! I GOT IT! I FINALLY GOT IT!" Obito whooped a short distance away. He had finally managed to stick a shuriken to his practice log and was doing a happy little dance to himself. Nobody seemed to be paying him any attention though, I wasn't sure if it was because nobody had heard him, or they just didn't care. Now that I thought about it, Obito was alone a lot. I didn't think that I had seen him with a single friend since Anko and I had busted him out of our running class, along with the devious Genma; ridiculously energetic Guy – who thought we were doing extra laps and made to join us; and Kotetsu, dragging along a reluctant Izumo.

Perhaps I should make an effort to—

Seemingly out of nowhere, I heard a projectile whistle towards the side of my face. Flinching, the shuriken flashed through the empty space that – had I not moved – would have cut straight through my nose.

I stared at the thrown projectile for a full second as it hit the ground with a muffled thud before my body kicked into gear.

I darted backwards as another shuriken rushed me. It was clumsily thrown, not enough power behind it to cause serious damage as the previous shuriken would have, but the trajectory was true. I spun to face my attacker.

A small group of my civilian-born classmates stood nearby, watching me. At the front was a petite brunette girl who I had a… strained relationship with. And by strained, I mean a love-hate relationship. As in, she loved to hate me. I usually dismissed her snide remarks and snipes at my person. She was civilian-born and didn't largely matter in the scheme of things. I made no effort to associate or endear myself to her, although I was certain her name was Ibara.

But if she was the one that had thrown that first kunai at me, then it was evident that she had some skill with projectiles.

A boy about my own age stepped forward out of the group to stand beside her. I couldn't remember his name although his face seemed familiar enough. He was likely civilian-born too. I dismissed him before I even realised it.

"Dodge this, demon-girl!" The boy shouted and swung his hands forward. Shuriken that I hadn't realised he had been holding whistled towards me and I dived out of the way.

Demon-girl…

It was a stupid and childish insult directed at the unnatural features of my Yūhi eyes. Two red irises per eye certainly weren't a feature hard to miss in a face. But the insults and jokes of me being demonic had rolled straight off my back in the past, and I saw no reason why that should change now. I liked my eyes, they were unique and — and was I really having a monologue about this in the middle of being pursued by another barrage of shuriken?

I really needed to get a handle on myself. Sometimes I could just ramble about nothing for ages and totally space out without even—

Oh my god. I need to stop.

I pushed off from the ground as the boy and Ibara both launched another shuriken at where I had just been lying on the ground.

Clusters of students were beginning to congregate around us, drawing the attention of Takahata-sensei.

"What are you doing?!" I yelled, startled but managing to narrowly dodge yet another shuriken.

"You still think you're so much better than us?" Ibara snarled back, her pretty face scrunching in anger. "Just because you have shinobi parents?"

"Well I do have shinobi parents! I can't help that." My heart was thundering in my chest and I was glad that my voice had come out firm and chiding, I was seriously trying not to stutter and show how nervous I was. Why did Anko have to be home sick with the flu today?

"Hey—hey! What the fuck's going on here?" Takahata-sensei strode between the three of us, glaring at us both. He eyed the shuriken strewn around me and turned to face Ibara, who was now standing alone as her group – and the boy – had beat a hasty retreat at the sight of sensei. "Did you throw those at her?" He asked Ibara in a quiet tone that set me on edge.

"She – and the other Uchiha – think that they're so high and—"

Uchiha? She thinks I'm Uchiha? That's a laugh. If I were Uchiha, I'm pretty sure the clan would come down on you like a tonne of bricks.

"I couldn't give a rat's ass what she thinks about you," Takahata said calmly. "But did you just attack your own classmate?"

"She provoked me!" Ibara shouted, frustrated. Takahata-sensei turned to look at me, eyebrows raised, asking me to explain myself.

"No she didn't!" Obito shouted, racing forward to stand beside me. "I saw the whole thing!"

I frowned. "No you didn't. I was watching you, you were practicing—" I stopped, realising that I had just ruined any chance of Takahata-sensei believing that I hadn't actually directly provoked Ibara's attack.

"Yeah, I was paying attention. I was secretly watching you watching me secretly watching you." He grinned, and then winced. "Does that even make sense?"

"You were secretly watching me?" I couldn't decide whether to be flattered or offended.

"Yeah! I was watching you fail at shuriken-throwing!"

Offended, then. Definitely offended. "Like you're one to talk," I muttered.

"You can't listen to him!" Ibara exclaimed, jabbing at Obito with her pointy little index finger. "He's from the same clan as her! He's obviously going to lie for her!"

I fought the urge to roll my eyes. As cool as it would be, I was not Uchiha.

"No I'm not!" Obito argued. "It doesn't matter that we're related! Sensei, this girl attacked my cousin without a reason! She's lying!"

"For goodness sake!" I cried, throwing my hands in the air. "I'm not an Uchiha!"

Obito turned to me in surprise. "You're not?"

Ibara frowned. "You're not?"

"No!"

"But you've got the Sharingan and everything," Obito said, looking confused.

"I'm six years old. How could I have the Sharingan? This is my normal eye colour."

"Really?" Obito peered at my face, squinting his eyes in concentration. "Woah, you're right. That's really freaky."

I slumped. Obito was doing wonders for my self-confidence.

"Okay, everyone! Yūhi-chan here is part of the Yūhi family, not the Uchiha clan!" Takahata-sensei exclaimed to the class of students that I suddenly noticed had surrounded us. It must've been the whole class by the looks of it. "Everyone satisfied? Good. Now get the fuck back to throwing shuriken at logs and not other people!"

He stomped off and the group dispersed quickly, Ibara among them, leaving just Obito and I alone together. Slightly annoyed but eager for him to leave, I blurted out the most eloquent thank you I could get passed my lips.

"Uh, thanks for helping with, um, that."

Obito grinned at me. "No problem!" He chirped, slinging an arm around my shoulders casually. "So, uh, the Yūhi family, huh? Hey, I think I've heard of them actually."

"That's nice," I replied, shrugging off his hand and moving over to my log. I began pulling out the shuriken that had stuck to the wood, being careful not to cut myself.

Walking several paces back, I took aim at the log again and then—

"You're holding it wrong, you know."

—completely botched the throw. The shuriken flew off into the tree line, disappearing from sight.

I spun to face Obito, angry and startled that he was still here. I'd just assumed that he'd gone back to his practice log. "What are you still doing here?!"

"Watching you, of course." He grinned at me charmingly.

I wasn't amused. "I don't need to be watched!" I said gruffly, turning my back to him and grabbing another shuriken from my small pile. "You should go practice your own shuriken-throwing."

"It's my duty to help others. Because one day, I'm gonna be-" Don't say Hokage, don't say Hokage, don't say Hokage "-Hokage!"

I mentally facepalmed. I did not need his 'glass half-full' perspective right now. Nor did I want it. "Well, then go help someone else."

"Nah, I think I'll help you."

"I don't need your-" I broke off in surprise as he suddenly grabbed my hand.

"You don't hold the shuriken between your forefinger and thumb, it makes your grip loose and your throw flimsy," he began, plucking the shuriken from my astonished fingertips and pressed it flat between my forefinger and middle finger. "You see? You're supposed to hold it like that. That way, your grip is stronger and you can keep your wrist tight when you throw, giving you both power and greater accuracy."

He was right. The shuriken felt more natural in my hand this way, and – by positioning just so – the sharp blades of the shuriken weren't cutting my skin like I had expected them to.

"You can let go of my hand now." He hastily removed his hand from mine, his face flushing. "This isn't going to work, you know." I muttered.

"Yeah it will. Just give it a go."

Sighing, I turned to face the log with the painted bullseye on it again. Drawing back my hand – it really did feel much more comfortable in my hand like this – I snapped my arm forward into a throw.

Thunk.

It hit the log, only slightly above the centre of the bullseye, making me gape in open astonishment. Obito began bouncing around, whooping like a crazed kid on a sugar rush. Maybe he was a crazed kid on a sugar rush.

"Woo~! You did it!" He cheered.

I stared at the shuriken. "No… way. It must have been a fluke." I picked up another shuriken and positioned it how Obito had told me, paused for a moment to take aim, and then let it fly.

It hit dead centre.

"Waa~! Yūhi-chan! You did it! And it's all because of me!" Obito cheered again, running forward to glomp me with stars in his eyes.

"Gah! No! Get off me!"

"We are becoming one, Yūhi-chan!"

"D-don't say things like that! Someone might get the wrong impression."

"This feels soooo good, Yūhi-chan~!"

"S-stop saying p-pervy things, you… perve!"

"Aw, c'mon. It's just a hug."

With enough squirming, I managed to wriggle out of his hold enough for me to plant my foot in his face and kick him away. He landed heavily on the ground a short distance away. Papa had always said that kicks were more powerful than a punch could ever be and many effective kunoichi relied on kicks to take down larger opponents – the downside to that was that kicks were also usually slower than a punch.

"You're so mean, Yūhi-chan," Obito sobbed, water pouring out of his eyes dramatically.

Wow. He's really melodramatic, I thought. I would have expected a performance this good from Guy, but from Obito… well, I suppose that he had been pretty over-the-top – erm, passionate – in the anime when he was younger, as well as when he was a part of Team Minato… Furthermore, since when had he even been in my class? He was supposed to be a year or two ahead of me, wasn't he?

I looked at Obito closely; he was now sitting cross-legged on the ground pouting. Cute. I fought the urge to roll my eyes. He was definitely older than me, but not by much. I'd place him at being around eight years old. If memory served, most students graduated from the Academy at the age of twelve. At least, the Konoha Twelve had in the manga.

But that was during peace times…

The Third Shinobi World War had still yet to take place, but from what I could remember from Chelsea, there should be mounting tensions between the villages, which meant that Konohagakure would be graduating students at an earlier age in an effort to pump out more shinobi to fight in the war. I was extrapolating, sure, but it was the logical choice in war times. As Chelsea, I had done written an essay describing the reasoning of the conscription of soldiers for the Vietnam War. It could be seen that the Third Shinobi War and the Vietnam War have little in common but many things remain the same, no matter the world you're born in.

Wars can only be fought if you have soldiers.

Whether or not this meant Obito would graduate alongside Rin and be assigned to Team Minato remained to be seen. I was well aware of the fact that I could have tampered with timeline from just interacting with people like Obito, Anko and the Third Hokage. I could very well have changed the timeline by just being born into this world, but that wasn't a theory I was keen to believe in.

I often considered how I might have affected the timeline. If I should affect the timeline… If I should just run far away from this land and just leave things to occur as the manga dictates…

But I had been born into Konohagakure. It was my home now. I had friends and family here, and I wasn't going to hide or tiptoe around this world in fear of changing the timeline. Regardless, I had heard a saying once, that time was like a river, and a river wasn't going to change direction just because someone has thrown a pebble into it. Sure, it'll cause ripple, but everything will sort itself out in the end.

The river will keep flowing in the same direction.

How philosophical of me. Well, I had been a PhD student, so I suppose it made sense to a certain degree.

"Yūhi!" Takahata-sensei was suddenly bearing down on me, not looking impressed. "Are you finished pondering the mysteries of the universe? Maybe once you're done, you can re-join the rest of the class so we can move onto sparring practice?"

Everyone was staring at Obito and I intently, being the only ones not standing in the centre of the clearing with the rest of the class.

"H-hai! Gomen, sensei!"

"But senseeeeeei, we were having a moment!"

"And you!" Takahata sensei rounded on Obito, jabbing his finger at him. "I allowed you join in with my class so that you could learn everything you didn't bother to learn last year that your third-year classmates have already mastered. So don't fucking waste my time. You can sit out and watch for the rest of this lesson." With that, he stalked back to my classmates, who began edging away from his angry glares nervously.

"No! Sensei! Sensei – waiiiiiit!" Obito fell to the ground again, stretching out his hand in a pathetic attempt to catch the already distant sensei. He looked ridiculous – and pathetic.

Crouching over him, I patted his hair consolingly. For a spikey-haired boy, his hair was surprisingly soft.

"Yūhi!"

"Hai! Coming!"

I stood up, realising I had been patting him for longer than I intended.

But as I watched Obito sober and gaze up at me with that quirky little grin on his face, I had to wonder: just how big of a pebble was I?

A/N: Well, here's Obito, what'd you think of him? He was pretty easy to write and is largely the reason why this chapter managed to get finished. He'll be back next chapter too, so you can look forward to that.

I do have some bad news, however. University starts back in about two weeks and I'll have to have my A-game on until December, which means my writing time will be heavily impeded. Ugh. This may mean that a chapter may not be uploaded – or even written – for many months, but just hang in there, I'll be back and I'll write/post when I can. As it is, production on Chapter 9 has already begun, and I have a loose impression of what's in store for chapters 10 through to 12.

But you can check my bio for updates regarding this story; I keep it relatively up-to-date.

Interesting but useless information about the author and other stuff:

A group of giraffes is called a tower.

Sea otters have pockets under their arms, which they use to store their favourite rocks.

Russia is the same size as Pluto.

I met Jennifer Morrison (Emma Swan from Once Upon a Time tv series) two weeks ago and had a picture taken with her. We definitely had some chemistry.

The strangers in your dreams are made up of people you've seen while awake. The brain doesn't create and/or invent faces.

Farting helps reduce high blood pressure and is good for your health.

Reviews are much appreciated.