DISCLAIMER- Naruto belongs to Kishimoto. Whilst Kiharu isn't really me...neither is he!
...
Winter came, cold and white, to Hi no Kuni.
I'd always been a bit surprised that such a warm climate could turn so bitterly cold. For the majority of the year, Konoha reminded me strongly of the southern coasts of Europe, Sorrento, and Cannes. But then, come late November, the weather would suddenly turn and winter would be a spectacle of crystal white snow and pearl white skies.
I thought the anime had just been being aesthetic. But apparently not quite.
Shinobi were baffling though, with their stubborn open-toed shoes.
I stared at the pale toes peeping out of the regulation sandals on the ninja in front of me before glancing down at my own feet, encased in fur-lined knee-high leather boots. And I was wearing two pairs of socks. And yet, I was still freezing my arse off.
It was probably some chakra thingy, I reasoned to myself. Didn't make me any less miserable though; if I was suffering, then so should they be!
The supermarket, despite the foot of snow on the ground, was rammed and I must've looked ridiculous, with my toy cart piled with Kg bags of flour and dozens of eggs. It was really hard to maneuverer as well and I got glared at loads by grumpy grown-ups when I accidentally turned too fast or lost a little bit of steering control.
"You're going to be labeled public enemy number one by the time you get to the counter," Hitoshi drawled, ever helpful. The presence of the big fuck-off carnivore was probably the main reason I hadn't been scolded yet, so I bit back my scathing retort and focused instead on making the corner – without hitting the display. Again. Hitoshi wasn't even really allowed in here, animals and food and all that but well…why don't you try and tell the arrogant feline where he could and couldn't go due to sanitation issues.
Panthers were really fast hunters, after all. And the shopkeeper looked like he knew when to cut his losses.
Smart man.
The food would cost a small fortune but I was determined to make a couple of 'new' things over the next week. I needed to keep myself sharp.
It had nothing whatsoever to do with this being the first time I'd ever been home alone. Or that this was Dad's first external mission in years since I was around 5. He'd been called in as the tracker for a mission (obviously, I didn't know anymore) as, even though dogs were the more traditional animal for such duties, cats were nothing to turn your nose up at either.
Cats just wouldn't listen, though.
Hitoshi was due to join him in a day or two and then Inoichi-Oji would bring me over to stay at the Compound for the rest of the time.
Sora-oba had looked pretty eager to see me 'at work' and I smiled to myself, glad she had started to perk up a bit more recently. I had seen Natsuko-oba briefly at the start of the month but she had managed to smile at me and actually look me in the face. It was such a little thing and yet my heart swelled with hope for the future.
Today, however, was the 24th. And I was feeling sentimental.
When we finally got out of the shops (after holding everyone up with my huge amount and creating an awkwardly long line), we dragged the shopping back home.
Well, I smugly noted and Hitoshi yowled unhappily, Hitoshi dragged it home. The trolley had been difficult to move on the polished floors of the supermarket; outside in the deep snow? I barely got it out of the way of the door!
Thinking quickly, I had undone the belt (thankfully just an accessory) from around my waist and slung it over my guardian's front. He had glared but was loyal enough to indulge me.
Something he surely regretted when I fastened and knotted it multiple times around the front axil of the cart.
"And what," he growled, pride undoubtedly stinging at being lassoed like a mule, "do you think I am? A delivery service?"
"Nope!" I quipped, unphased, as I added to his burden by climbing onto his back; he was a ninja, though, so this shouldn't bother him. "You look like a cat who wouldn't dare leave your charge struggling in the cold. Why, I'd probably get pneumonia before I got home!" Emerald eyes had narrowed at me, a dark rumble reverberating in his huge chest.
I didn't fail to notice that he'd not replied.
By the time we got back, Hitoshi looked willing to leave early for the mission, seven-year-old mistress or not. The indulgent smiles of the adults who'd chuckled at a young girl atop of sleigh-pulling panther had probably not helped.
As thanks, I heaved a large elk steak from the cold-room (not the fridge, the joints needed to feed a panther wouldn't even have fit) onto a metal tray and left it for him in front of the newly lit fire. It wasn't often that he was allowed to eat inside (big cats, in particular, were messy eaters) but in winter an exception was made. He settled down with it and proceeded to ignore my existence like the mopey old man he was.
I had things to do anyway.
Now, because it was just me, I had settled for a good duck breast but I was hungry so planned to sauté it instead of putting it in the oven. A few carrots, thin little baby ones which only needed a quick scrub in the sink, were boiled/steamed with a few heads of cabbage and then tossed in butter. The parsnips saw the same fate except, instead of butter, a light drizzle of honey was added before I set them in the oven.
Running over to the bread bin, I found a stale loaf end that I'd saved. I blended it quickly with a fistful of ground pork and dumped in some herbs. The oregano, dried, exploded a little bit but I didn't particularly care. I liked strong seasoning anyway. I roughly chopped a white onion (really, roughly was the only way I could chop; I was much more of a baker than a chef) before mixing everything together in my hands, squeezing it into a rough ball before pressing it into a small loaf tin. Rinsing my sticky fingers in the sink, I popped the tin onto the top shelf of the oven where it would hopefully cook quicker.
A glance through the doorway showed Hitoshi paying me no mind, licking his joint with long pink strokes.
It was quite cute, honestly.
Waiting until everything was well underway, I gently lowered the duck into a lightly sizzling pan. I'd not really liked duck in my past life but this body had the taste for it (the duck pancakes here were really good) and turkey was a bit trickier to come by.
I added a knob of butter before shaking in the same herbs I'd used for the stuffing- harmonizing flavours, or whatever Gordon Ramsey would say. (Although, he would have sworn every other word, of course.)
Adding a drop of stock (left over from a few nights ago) so the meat wouldn't burn, stick to the pan or dry out, I put on a lid for a few minutes whilst I checked the stuff in the oven and set myself a place at the table. I hadn't put on the main lights, only the ones over the oven and countertops. In the low, yellow light, I could easily see out into the snow-covered garden. Everything outside had been painted in a soft flush of blues and purples, the daylight having faded. The snow fairly glowed.
Checking to make sure nothing was burning, I ran upstairs to pull on a pair of woolly red socks.
Pausing in front of mum's wardrobe, still filled with her clothes, I took a fortifying breath. The doors didn't even creak and her scent lingered over everything.
I remembered helping her dress in the mornings, pulling out fancy kimonos even as she'd laugh and tell me we were just staying home for the day. I'd laughed too and tell her that was all the more reason to, as no one would know. In the end, we'd both spent the day dressed like imperial princesses (or as close as one could get with limited materials). I brushed away the few tears that had stained my face, relieved that dad wasn't home. It almost felt like one of those moments when it had just been me and mum and I could almost feel her beside me. My searching hands finally found what I'd come looking for; a lumpy emerald green sweater my Kaa-san had stolen from dad, even before I was born.
I pulled it over my head, luxuriating in the honey-and-jasmine- scent of my mother, rolling the sleeves up three times so my hands were free. The hem fell to my knees and it was the closest both of my parents could be with me right now.
If I closed my eyes, I could almost feel her arms wrapping around me. The longing grew to an ache in my stomach but the warmth in my chest had me smiling faintly.
As silly as I looked, I was feeling quietly festive.
Hitoshi gave me a long look as I walked back past him but he was a cat of few words and knew when to leave me alone. He turned back to his meat.
The duck needed turning but looked beautifully brown on the one side. The veggies were almost done, even if the parsnips had started to char a little around the edges. The stuffing could do with a few more minutes so I closed the door. I made myself a milky coffee (like a latte but with the milk heated in the microwave) to go with my dinner. Unconventional, I know, but there wasn't any English breakfast tea to be found to remind me of before. This was a suitable alternative.
When everything was done and I'd spooned out a trifle too much, I sat down at the table by myself. The food was good, if a bit dry without the invention of gravy granules here, but I stuffed myself anyway. It was hot and stodgy, sitting heavy in my stomach in a way that Japanese food didn't.
Strange as it may sound, it felt like a tiny little celebration. Even if it was a party of one.
…..
"-and don't forget to actually wash, Hitoshi. With water. I don't care what you say, your tongue doesn't count as 'bath time'."
Inoichi-oji was an elite ninja and kept his poker face up there with the politicians and statues alike. The heavy exhale through his nose was the only sign given that he wanted to die with laughter just as much as I.
Well, I couldn't let Hitoshi leave without firmly embarrassing him, now could I?
When the cat tolerantly allowed me to hug him tightly once more, smoothing down the hair around his eyes (even though I was still growing, he was still a bit taller than me), I knew he didn't really mind. He'd miss me too.
A minute later and he was gone in a puff of smoke which drifted off like mist in the white landscape. "Well, Kiharu-chan, do you have everything?" Inoichi-Oji smiled and gestured to my bag he'd slung over his shoulder. "Almost; there's just my groceries and supplies." I jerked my thumb at the line of bags gathered behind me.
Oh, to be young and merciless.
…...
It was…weird.
Being in the compound without Noko. Knowing that she wasn't going to skip around the corner, arms filled with flowers (depending on the season) and already chattering away before she'd even gotten into hearing distance.
Sora-oba had settled me into one of the guest rooms and I was grateful I wasn't where Noko used to stay when her parents were away or she was put down for a nap. I wasn't scared to go in but the thought of staying there felt almost…sacrilegious. It had just been a room and it hadn't even really been Inoko's but, I had memories in there. I just…didn't think I was ready for that, just yet.
But the house was quiet (Sora-oba had taken advantage of Ino's current nap and had settled down for a bit as well) but mercifully peaceful.
The cold out meant I wasn't inclined to go outside and I didn't want to cook in someone else's kitchen.
Days like this, in my previous life, usually signified a movie day. Or, at least, a good book and some music.
I didn't really have any of those things.
I couldn't watch a film for obvious reasons. There weren't any TV's here, as I had known them. Movie theatres existed but the films were one, not ones I recognized and two, in the village center.
I had a pretty good memory but that was mostly donated to my previous life, recipes and the Narutoverse information I had religiously recited in my head until the plotline was all but seared into my skull (that stuff I couldn't afford to lose). I didn't have the time, patience or memory to try to rewrite my favourite novels. Although, if I ever wanted to dabble in authordom, I could probably scramble together something to give Jiraiya a run for his money. Simply because of the amount of…certain…fanfics I'd read.
Cough.
Whipping out a sheet of paper and scrounging for a pencil, I started translating some of my favourite songs.
They were mainly Disney (less use of terminology that either wouldn't translate or cause confusion and also because they had been stuck in my head from early childhood) but I ended up having to rework some lines due to grammar so that they'd still fit with the tune.
It was annoying and long, especially because I hated Japanese above most things.
By the time I had 'A Whole New World' and 'Colour's of the Wind' hammered out, I could hear both Ino and Sora waking up. The mess I'd made of my workstation looked like I'd written them from scratch, which was a useful fix, I supposed grumpily.
I'd never been a great singer. In either life.
The first time around, I'd always sounded vaguely nasally, even though I could hit the notes and carry a solid tune. A speech impediment when I was younger and just my voice, in general, meant that I'd always sounded a bit like I had a cold. In this life, my voice was high and therefore, when I sang, a bit reedy. I could only hope this would improve when I matured. Also, in this world, 'good singers' were technically proficient. I was used to singing soulfully, like Tori Kelly or Jennifer Hudson (in style, obviously, not talent). I wasn't sure how popular that would be considering no one here sang that way.
Now, this isn't the part where I go out into the street, like in some Musical, and sing a glorious solo which no one would even blink twice at except to join in. I wasn't going to be singing anytime soon but…it was nice to hum a little tune again, mumbling under my breath as I hopped down the stairs.
…
"Ne, Sora-oba? That's the salt…"
I wasn't sure why my auntie-in-all-but-blood had insisted on making something 'new' but she wasn't the best baker, that I could say with certainty. Which was weird as, if nothing else, Sora was a graceful and accomplished woman in everything she did. And I'd had countless dinners at her table so I was righteously confused as to why she was acting so scatter-brained?
And that was coming from an almost eight-year-old. Yikes.
I plucked up the courage to ask, as nicely as possible. Of course, not only was Sora a ninja but also a woman; She saw straight through me, like a single pane window. Thankfully, she took it all in good humour, batting playfully at my high ponytail with a roll of her eyes.
"I could only cook enough to get by on missions when I was younger. When your uncle and I were married, he was in much higher demand than I was because of the Ino-Shika-Cho formation. So, I was the one doing the cooking. Kaiya, Chouza's wife, taught me how to prepare actual meals…not just skin a rabbit for the spit."
I tilted my head, "Is she a kunoichi, too?"
Sora-oba paused in measuring out the sugar (correct this time, thankfully) before shooting me a knowing smile. "Not at all. She's a civilian just like you. She's the force behind the Akimichi restaurants, actually. She and Chouza's cousin Soushi bought a place back when they were 19. That's actually how she and Chouza met, you know."
I grinned, pleased at the apparent strength of character of a woman the fandom had known so little about. All I vaguely remembered was that she fought barehanded against the invasion during the Fourth War. And had had violently orange eyeshadow (minus the sage mode). And I could definitely appreciate that level of kick-assery, especially in a civilian.
Moving over, I took the sugar from the scales, adding it to the saucepan of apples on the hob. Into a bowl, I poured the blended crumb-like mixture of sugar, flour, and butter alongside some cinnamon and a touch of ginger. For my aunt's benefit, I actually used measuring spoons. Then, once the apple had cooked down enough to form a nice thick jam (without becoming a sauce or losing sharpness), I poured it into the oven dish before evenly coating the top in the 'crumble'.
"There!" I finished with a flourish before grinning up at my aunt's interested expression. "Put it in the oven for about half an hour and you've got an easy dessert. What I like to call 'Apple Crumble'."
"What a clever name," she teased me with a wink.
"Ino think's it's cute!" I claimed, whirling round to the resident baby (who was staring mesmerized at rotating the flower-mobile above her and paying the both of us exactly zero attention). "Mmhmm," my aunt agreed when a sweatdrop formed on my brow (I was really getting into those things).
"Inooooooooo-chan," I gave up, defeated. "Shika would've helped me."
"Hardly…all that baby does is sleep- "
"Maa, maa, don't be so jealous, oba-san! Just because Ino thinks screaming is the greatest joy in life"-
"-but even then, you can't deny I've won this round, Nekki-chan."
We both froze at the slip and I glanced away, suddenly shy.
"…I'm sorry, Kiharu-chan, I know that I-Inoko used to call- "
"It's fine, Oba-san. I…would be honoured if we kept that alive, between the two of us."
The gentle hug I was swept up into made me blush bright red.
"Just between us then, Nekki." She pulled back, suddenly all business once more.
"Now, you've done something for me; we should do something for you...after the dishes." We both surveyed the bombsite.
Thankfully, two pairs of hands really were better than one and the kitchen was shining and freshly mopped (from various spillages) just in time for the crumble to be taken out. We left it to cool so that we could reheat it later (somethings I always found tasted even better the second time around) and then, once Ino was fed and changed, we started to pile on the layers.
Ino was swathed in multiple blankets inside her bassinette (which had its strong hood pulled low) with an adorable hat and mitten combo on as well. I was wearing thick woolen tights beneath my grey winter trousers, tucked into my fur-lined boots. A long sapphire blue coat brightened the look whilst being snuggly warm and I had matching silver fur mittens and earmuffs. My Aunt was dressed similarly, except her top was a tunic that came down like a dress over her leggings and her cloak was a rather royal purple. Once Sora-oba had attached Ino's bassinette to her pram, we set off out of the compound.
"Where are we going, Oba-san?" I wondered aloud as we moved towards the shopping district. Thankfully, whilst chilly, the snow was only a few centimeters thick. I had worried about Ino, being only 3 months, being out in the cold before my Aunt had pointed out the Fuinjutsu or 'Sealing Barrier' markings for warmth etched along the inside of the cradle. Apparently, minor 'barriers' such as these could be used to regulate temperature; Kushina had done these herself, according to Sora-oba, as a gift when she found out Sora was expecting. They used to be extremely popular in Uzushio before it fell, what with all those storms.
"Tch, ninja cheating," I grumbled.
My aunt ignored me, merely gesturing for me to get the door of the shop so she could lift the pram over the ledge. A burst of hot air had my sighing in relief, the warmth making my numb nose tickle. As Sora-oba fussed around with Ino's hood, I looked around the shop. It was a little boutique salon with pastel blue walls and gold embellishments. It was surprisingly high-scale and I'd never been in a place like it before.
"I need a haircut and thought it would be nice if we could get something done together, Nekki-chan."
I'd never really cut my hair, kaa-san only trimming it when it started looking a bit straggly. I'd never been in a salon in this life.
"Hai!" I bounced, excited. I didn't want a lot done, wanting to maintain my long hair. But this was sure to be fun anyway.
"Welcome," came a smooth voice from behind me and I turned to see a gently smiling woman come around the corner. She had smooth black hair so dark it shone like spilled ink and her caramel eyes were expectant.
"How many I help you, this afternoon?" Sora-oba stepped forwards as the woman walked over to the receptionist's desk. "I'd like two hair appointments, both wash, cuts, and finishes, please." The woman nodded politely, making a note in her book before gesturing for us to hand her our coats and follow her. After storing our out-door things in the cloak-room, we were lead through to the salon floor. There were only two other customers; one young woman with her hair in curlers and another lady, whose silver hair was being trimmed into a short bob.
Ino was asleep in her pram and I gently rocked her as oba-san went first. Her hair was massaged with a scented lavender soap before being toweled and combed out. I couldn't believe how long it was when free from her usual bun, almost reaching her elbows. Sora sipped contentedly on some complimentary green tea, whilst her locks were slowly but surely shorted until they rested just below her shoulders. Her fringe was trimmed neatly before her hair was dried. The stylist was considerate enough to twist it into a new bun, this one a bit fancier than oba-san's usual.
When we exchanged seats, it was my turn.
Excepting my own tea, the woman gently guided my head back to rest against the rim of the bowl. Warm water soaked my hair and then gentle hands were sweeping at my temples. Against my will, my eyes fluttered shut and I reflexively started to quietly purr. The hands jerked in surprise before both the woman, Misaki-san, and my aunt giggled quietly. I would have been embarrassed if I had been any less blissed out. Rubbing rose shampoo into my scalp had me drifting again. No one had done this to me in a long time.
A soft giggle and a shake on my arm had me rousing, disorientated, from my impromptu nap.
Blushing pink, I stuttered out an apology but the woman just brushed it off.
"It's fine, Kiharu-chan. And you looked so cute! But, maybe you'd prefer to be awake during the actual cutting, ne?"
(It wasn't until my aunt printed a copy for my dad and pinned her own to the fridge, that I realised she'd taken a photo -using a special jutsu for crime scenes- to capture my sleeping face, smushed cutely against the sink and surrounded by pink bubbles.)
Nodding quickly, I sat up straight and blinked hard, trying to banish the lingering sleepiness.
It took almost half an hour but, by the end, my hair was resting at my waist with two layers at the very front. The first was half-way down my biceps, the second at my jaw, framing my face. My hair, thick and with a barely-there wave, was a blanket of dark chocolate down my back and I met Misaki-san's eyes in the mirror, grinning happily.
"Arigato, Misaki-san," I bounded to my feet and sketching a quick bow in gratitude, hair swishing around me. My aunt smiled tolerantly as she got to her feet, Ino now huddled in the crook of her neck. Passing me my 'imouto', she moved back to the main room with Misaki to pay. Ino gurgled up at me, pudgy fingers brushing my cheeks and grasping my new bangs as I slowly followed. Not being able to resist, I kissed her forehead soundly, making a loud "mwah!" which had Ino giggling happily before she leaned forward to gum on my chin. Ooh, lovely. I really wanted someone to cannibalise my face.
A quite coo, had my eyes snapping up to meet black.
The woman before me was dressed in simple but rich clothes, her onyx hair and eyes marking her as an Uchiha. The baby, wrapped like a burrito in a white blanket, rested in the crook of her arm (pram next to ours in the corner) as her other hand was firmly clasped by the small boy beside her. The faintest smile warmed her face.
I blinked once, twice, as Ino happily mouthed my chin like a puppy.
Uchiha Mikoto.
Which meant that…the burrito was Sasuke and the kid...Itachi.
His lashes were already prettier than mine. Hot damn, that was unfair.
Sora-oba bustled back to me and, relieving me of Ino (I fished a tissue out to subtly wipe off the slobber), handed me my things. Itachi eyed me curiously the entire time and I had to remind myself that he was Hana's age, a gaki, and not a Nuke-nin.
I still didn't feel comfortable under his solemn gaze.
"Uchiha-sama," my Aunt nodded as we bustled past the small family out the door.
Mikoto smiled again, a little bit more obvious. "Yamanaka-sama." And then we were gone. Phew.
Ino was awake for the walk home but mercifully happy, even when we made a pit-stop for milk.
At dinner that night, Inoichi looked surprised at our new looks, making Sora-oba exchange winks with me. I giggled at the subtly satisfied look on her face.
Inoichi wasn't the only one allowed to have pretty hair, you know.
...
A/N-sorry for the wait! (in terms of this fic's usual update speed at least, hehe) ...Kiharu needed downtime and it's super important, in my opinion, that I don't neglect her healing etc. for the sake of skipping to 'canon relevant 'interesting' thingies'. About Noko...if you see a conspiracy, I'm not gonna say shit. (-:0
P.s- Why was I the only one dying over Izumo/Kotetsu?
Anyway, enjoy and don't forget to fav/follow/review!
Also, I just found out that this story has been added to two communities...Kawai! I'm thrilled, thank you to everyone who reads and supports this fic! x