MERRY CHRISTMAS Y'ALL. I have good news: my editor and I agreed that we can afford to do twice a week updates. This story will have a new chapter every Tuesday and Friday! Please don't hesitate to leave reviews, you can't begin to imagine how much they motivate me to translate my own story. Thank you for your support!
One night, as Hitomi was falling asleep after spending the day trying to learn how to speak rather than babble senselessly, a terrible feeling startled her fully awake. Since her ill spell after she had realised where she was, her voice had changed, gotten huskier and veiled because of the scar tissue around her vocal cords. The knowledge of that unique pain, of the taste of her own blood in her mouth, didn't stop her from screaming in her crate against her mother's bed, still empty. Wild, foul chakra burned against her skin.
She felt so much worse than she had been last time. This was not just her own chakra system trying to work; the other source stimulated hers, aggravating and stimulating it endlessly. She screamed and screamed in the dark, terrified, unable to stop or think, even for a moment. And yet, by doing so, she would have understood. This chakra could only belong to one entity around Konohagakure, after all.
She heard someone running and, suddenly, the bedroom's door opened, yellow light pouring in from the corridor. Hitomi, despite her terror and pain, recognised one of her neighbours, a civilian working in a Nara pharmacy who sometimes babysat her when her parents were kept away. It wasn't the first time the teenager helped herself in their home, so Hitomi didn't worry about it, even though she would have liked to know why her mother wasn't there. She was starting to think again.
She'd understand later, but as Anako the neighbour picked her up and started running outside, in Konoha's streets, she could only contemplate the devastation far away, hear the noises of dozens of men and women fighting, dying, their chakra exploding powerlessly against the titan facing them. The Kyūbi was raiding the village and she was screaming, terrified and decaying, body and mind on fire. Even her Library couldn't help her this time.
Quickly, Anako reached the closest emergency hiding shelter with her precious, wailing bundle and, after giving their names to the sentinel, she sneaked in the narrow pass that would soon fade into the mountain. The shelter was full already, terrified civilians huddling in little groups where they could.
In the shelter, the itch from the monstrous chakra had lessened, but she could still feel it, and feel with it the chakras of all the defenders , outside. If she focused enough, she could even single out her parents from the huge energetic mess, but she refrained. She didn't want to feel it if they died.
Somewhere between the house and the shelter, her screams had faded to tired sobs. She wasn't the only one to cry: a civilian wearing the Uchiha fan embroidered on her clothes was soothing a sobbing infant. Everywhere Hitomi saw it, the despair that parents tried to hide so they could comfort and appease their young. They succeeded sometimes. Sometimes they did not.
Somewhere deep in Hitomi's mind, a cold power awoke, analysing the situation. If the Kyūbi's attack, happening not so long after the last war, could put the civilians in such a state of distress, what would it be when the canon would continue to unroll? She had, since her realisation, toyed with the idea of staying a civilian herself, protected from the danger and ordeals coming with a ninja life. But she didn't want to feel this powerless ever again. She didn't want her choices to be taken from her, didn't want to wait in the dark for news of those who fought for her safety.
She had just one possibility left, then, barely safer or more reassuring: she had to follow, as soon as possible, the ninja way. She had to go to the Academy, to succeed in her studies, to become strong and then stronger. As strong as it was possible without dying, even. With that choice, she exposed herself to all the dangers she was aware of and then some, but at least she would never feel that powerless waiting in the dark again, would never be defenceless again. Danger would strike again, but she would be ready.
In the morning, the shelter's door opened on two obviously high-ranking shinobi. Hitomi didn't understand all the words they were using, but Anako did. The teenager stood up calmly, the baby secured in her arms, then left the shelter to go home with her. The streets were devastated, a mess of rubble and dust. Had the Kyūbi gone that far into the village's defences? Some parts were in ruins now. Such a shame…
Hitomi's house was still empty when Anako went in. All ninjas were probably in the hospital to treat their wounds, or in the Hokage's office reporting their actions during the battle. Hiruzen was already back in his place. A surge of disdain went through Hitomi's brain. She'd have to work on that, too. The child hated the silence hovering over the living room, as if life had frozen and waited for a signal to continue. She looked for her parents with anxious eyes, even though she knew they were not home. She felt it. Their chakra, which had become a reassuring strength for her, had grown cold and faint.
Her mother came home alone, far after the sun had reached its peak position in the sky. She was visibly exhausted and the skin around her eyes was red and puffy. As soon as she saw her baby, the young woman hid her face in her hands, nails still encrusted with blood and dirt, and started sobbing, prompting Hitomi to cry too. She understood, as much as she didn't want to. Kurenai was home – Shikano wasn't, and never would be again.
She'd always felt thorn between her infant body and her adult soul, but this time all her being cried for the father she had known less than a year and yet loved for his tenderness, his soft, deep voice, his huge hands and his laugh so lively it had made his whole body shake. She mourned with her mother the goatee that had tickled her and the smile powerful enough to light up a whole room, mourned the softening stare, the callused, patient fingers that had sculpted her toys, mourned the way he tucked her in at night and the last glance, so full of love, he always gave her mother before leaving the house for a mission. She mourned and cried until sleep, at last, fell over her.
Later, Hitomi awoke in Kurenai's lap. Her mother was singing a soft, sorrowful lullaby, the melody a balm on the wounds left by Shikano Nara's death. A loving father, a rightful son, a brave brother. The lullaby hadn't awakened her, though. It was the knock at the door.
"Come in, Father," Kurenai said.
This took Hitomi by surprise. She didn't know her grandfather was still alive. He had never been in the manga, so she had supposed he was dead, like most shinobi of his generation, but there he was. She stared at him intently, scrutinizing the shoulder-long black hair under his forehead protector, worn as a bandana. His eyes were the Yūhi's, red with an inner circle of deeper red, and he had scars all over his hands and throat. His face, though, only bore the marks of age and a hard shinobi life.
"I heard about Shikano. I'm so sorry."
"You should have let me help him!" Kurenai spat. "It's your fault if none of my unit was on the frontline!"
"And what would have happened, then, Kurenai? What if the Nine Tails had killed you both? Did you think about what your daughter's life would be without you? Don't you think there are enough orphans after this night already?"
His angry tone made Hitomi moan anxiously. Adults didn't shout often under this roof, Kurenai made sure of it. The mourning mother's hard and angry stare softened as it went from her father to her daughter. The tenderness in her eyes mixed with a nameless suffering and loneliness, feelings so intense and raw Hitomi couldn't quite grasp them. Ghosts were with her now, and they would never totally leave her. "You're right, Father," she answered after a short silence. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have accused you."
"I don't blame you. It was a difficult night."
If she had been able to, Hitomi would have let out a joyless laugh at this bitter euphemism. A difficult night, yes, for the civilians who had left the shelters and helped clean the streets of the dozens of corpses that littered them before going home; a difficult night for kids who, like her, had lost a parent or, even worse, both of them; a difficult night for those who mourned a friend, a lover, a brother, a sister; a difficult night for the Uchiha Clan, which would suffer starting from today the consequences of a greedy, paranoid Councilman's machinations.
But she knew the real culprit behind the attack. She'd make him pay for the blood he had spilled senselessly, be it in the past, present or future. She'd make him pay by disturbing his plans every step of the way, by being the plague he could never get rid of nor identify. She'd make him pay, yes, until his sick soul devoured itself.
She didn't have a plan yet, but it would come. Closing her eyes, she pretended to fall asleep in her mother's warm embrace as she entered her Library. She walked deep into her mind and looked around. The shelves that didn't concern the canon but all the other information she was learning about this new world were filling in slowly. It was hard to collect knowledge as a baby, after all.
Her determined pacing led her to the correct shelf, to the book labelled Madara. Danzō was on her list, too, but she'd worry about him later. She had always liked the old phrasing "Know your enemy" and fully intended on applying it in this situation. But to the Founders, first. She didn't have much on them, but what she possessed was enough already to start scheming. Her plan would be void of pity or morality, as Madara surely had neither of those. Whatever else she needed, be it intel or power, she had years left ahead of her to collect it. Silently, she started reading and plotting.
When she came back to her senses, night had fallen upon the village. She was settled in the baby carrier her mother had recently adjusted to her measurements, but it was her grandfather carrying her as Kurenai was busy cooking. The smell of food awoke Hitomi's hunger each time someone cooked. She couldn't wait to get past her milk stage. And nappies. Urgh.
All evening, Hitomi listened quietly while the adults spoke. She learned that the Uchiha Clan was well on its way to ostracization, a situation that would probably worsen during the days to come. The village was slowly rebuilding already, thanks to the shinobi adept at Earth Style ninjutsu. The service for those who had fallen during the attack would happen in two days, and all citizens were invited, ninjas and civilians alike. They had all lost loved ones, after all.
Soon enough, it was time for her to go to bed. She hated sleeping all day. At least she wasn't bored half to death, but she wasn't doing anything useful either. She far preferred strolling through her beloved Library. A new section had opened, full of Japanese vocabulary and grammar rules. She spent part of the night listening to the new words she had learnt until she could repeat them in the secret of her mind, since her body couldn't quite do it yet. When the sun came back in the sky, she felt rested, and a little bit of her pain had eased away.