Until her third birthday, not much happened to Hitomi. She spent a lot of time with her mother, but also with her late father's clan. Nara Shikaku had a son too, one year her junior, and the man often turned up in the middle of the night for advice before going home to repeat the good word to his own wife. It was fun to see him in such a state of disarray, his ponytail half hanging on his neck while trying so hard to look as dignified as he could, but Hitomi didn't make fun of him.
He was her favourite uncle, after all, and not only because she needed him and his influence in her plan to make Danzō's life as shitty as she possibly could. Yes, she needed to be close to him, needed him to like her, but it wasn't the reason she loved him to bits. He was kind, quiet, far from the lazy image he hid behind. And he was so clever! He had been the one to understand she was too advanced for her age. When Nara Yoshino, his wife, babysat the little girl for Kurenai, she made sure to teach her vocabulary beyond her expected level. Hitomi adored it.
She could walk and talk now, even if the two skills were still raw and difficult. Still, a weight had been lifted from her shoulders and she felt much better. She was freer now, and yet she was safer too. She hadn't learnt anything that would directly help her in her different schemes yet, but she collected all information preciously, without ever looking down upon any knowledge. You never knew when something would be useful, after all.
The day after Hitomi's third birthday, Kurenai woke her up far earlier than usual. She wore a dark blue training outfit which fitted her perfectly, something the little girl had never seen her wear. When her mother helped her in similar clothes, she raised her eyebrows and waited until the kunoichi answered the unspoken question.
"There is a huge difference between civilian and clan-born children. Do you know which one?"
Hitomi nodded. "The clan-born children," she answered in an assured voice, "are trained by their clan way before going to the Academy, while the civilian-born kids start from nothing when they decide to pick a shinobi career."
"Exactly!" Kurenai beamed. "You may not know it yet, but you're part of two clans, sweetheart: your father and uncle and cousin Shikamaru belong to the Nara Clan, and I'm part of the Yūhi clan, even if it is almost extinct."
A smile appeared on Hitomi's lips. "We begin training, then?" she pipped.
"You got it!"
Enthusiastic, Hitomi helped her mother as she got her ready then stayed still while her long, nimble hands tied her hair in the traditional Nara ponytail. Well, hers was too long to stay up in the rubber band, but she still loved to wear it. In her dark apparel, she looked like the idea most people had of a shinobi. A miniature version, but still.
The obedient young girl followed Kurenai outside. The woman stood in the centre of their garden, firmly settled on her feet. It was the beginning of November, but the air was mild in Konoha: no snow had been seen there for at least ten years, or at least it was the information Hitomi had gotten by listening to the grown-ups who had visited her mother during the last three years. Those visits were precious to Hitomi: she could use them to fill the section of her Library reserved for information about her new world, her new village.
"Let's start, then. Copy my position, feet apart shoulder-width apart, back straight, arms along your flanks."
Hitomi did as she was told. She knew this position well: before the hospital, she had been in a theatre club, and it was called the 'standard position' there. Despite that background, she realised that she had trouble taking the correct stance. Her brain remembered the instruction, but her body didn't quite execute them. It took her three tries to get her feet correctly apart, and a full minute to stop fidgeting.
"That's good, sweetheart," complimented her mother. "Now, slowly extend your arms and raise them so your fingers draw a circle and join over your head, as high as you can."
Guided by her mother's sweet voice, Hitomi discovered what would now be her routine, every morning, before starting her day. Kurenai called the stretching exercise 'greeting the sun' and, indeed, it appeared while she taught it to her daughter. When they were done, Hitomi discovered with amazement that she only felt the healthy aches of a physical exercise well executed. All the pains that had haunted her previous body from childhood hadn't followed her in her new life. She was free, at last.
After only a few weeks of that daily routine, Hitomi felt her body get better already: her young limbs were still malleable and, according to Kurenai, the more flexibility she acquired as a kid, the more she would be able to retain as an adult. Later, she could enhance her body's abilities with chakra, but she needed a strong foundation to work with before that.
It wasn't the only skill Kurenai had her work on. After all, she wouldn't go back to active duty before Hitomi graduated. The little girl started learning endurance running and sprinting – both much more enjoyable now that she didn't have to spit out her lungs after ten feet – and strength-building exercises. In the afternoon, Kurenai took her to the living room, made her sit in front of the coffee table and talked to her about the history of the Elemental Nations, about chakra, about Hidden Villages, about the Academy. She had obviously spoken with Shikaku; what she told Hitomi, she never repeated, and she made sure to interact with her rather than just teaching her.
Hitomi had never felt better. She learned so much every day, and yet it seemed to her she would always crave more, more knowledge and more new things to discover. Soon, bored by simply trying to draw what her mother taught her during their lessons, she decided to copy the kanji she saw on the spines of books in the living room. She couldn't read them and she realised quickly that her fingers were far too clumsy to write correctly. As for strength, speed and flexibility, she just needed to work on it, so work she did.
Her daughter was almost four years old when Kurenai realised what, exactly, she was trying to do. She was trying to learn how to write all by herself; she proved then, probably without knowing it, how much Shikaku had been right about her. The young mother immediately took the matter in her own hands, so Hitomi wouldn't adopt bad habits concerning the order of the strokes, and the girl learned to write, exactly as she had wanted.
It took her a few weeks to master the two kana syllabaries. Her memory was as good as ever, but her strokes lacked the natural elegance one could only achieve through practice. Then she was able to learn kanji. She already knew some, like the one she would see one day on Gaara's forehead, but she had to learn how to form them, the order you were supposed to use to trace the strokes. It amused her and helped her relax, so she practiced an hour every night before going to bed.
With all those new skills, Hitomi gained in independence, too. With her strange chakra sickness, she had only been authorised to meet Shikamaru from amongst the clan children. Kurenai decided then that she was ready for others: Akimichi Chōji first, then Yamanaka Ino. She could only see them on the Nara lands, the only place in the village where the population density was low enough for her senses. She had to admit she liked the quiet Chōji a bit better, but she got along well with Ino too. One day, they would be part of Shikamaru's team. Her cousin looked up to her, and so his two best friends imitated him. It felt good, to lead them through games and adventures in their part of the land. And, of course, Shikamaru was her favourite. Family always came first.
One evening, he knocked on her door overly excited, cradling a wooden box against his chest as if it were a treasure. His father was at the corner of the street and walked slowly, his gait flexible and lazy. Most often, he evoked a feline to Hitomi, indolent but dangerous. Anyway, Shikamaru's excitement was of more interest for the girl, since she rarely saw her cousin in such a state. Without waiting for the adult, she let him in. Immediately, he grabbed her arm and dragged her to the other door, which opened to the garden, mumbling he had something to show her.
He didn't go to the grass, settling on the patio Shikano had built shortly before Hitomi was born. Behind the wall that separated the garden for the rest of the land, the sun was slowly ending his run across the sky. Its light stained the clouds with pink and orange shades. For a few seconds, Hitomi lost herself in that silent, colourful infinity, finding energy and calm in it.
"Come on!" Shikamaru called, making her focus on him again. "Sit in front of me." As she obeyed, he set up something that looked like a chessboard without its black and white colours between them. Hitomi knew what it was: so, Shikaku had taught the rules of shōgi to his son…
"Your father talks about that game sometimes, he plays with the ANBU captains! Do you know how to play?"
"Yes, and I'll show you, Hitomi-chan. My dad is a difficult opponent, I need someone closer to my level to progress."
She nodded and, just like that, it was settled. He taught her the set-up rules as he put the pieces on the board, then the game's rules through their first game. It was for that kind of intimate moments that Hitomi loved her cousin to bits. He never displayed boredom when she wanted to talk about something too complicated for their age and offered invaluable little beads of knowledge to add to her collection.
She lost her three first games. No doubt Shikamaru had already made progress by playing against his father. Like her, he soaked in other people's knowledge, often without their notice. The fourth game was much, much longer. The sun had long settled under the horizon, and yet the outcome was still unclear. Before every single move, they both took the time to think and analyse the situation. Somewhere during the middlegame, Kurenai brought them blankets and hot cocoa, but they didn't let the board out of their sight, even to drink.
Finally, Hitomi won by the skin of her teeth. She felt such euphoria that she let out a victorious cry and leaped to her feet, a surge of energy coursing through her body. Shikamaru looked at her proudly, a deeply satisfied smile on his thin lips. He had found his opponent.
"We shouldn't start a new game now. You still have to do your writing, right?"
"I know a lot of basic vocabulary now, so I focus more on reading. But you're right. Mom was already nice to let me out so late."
The two adults could be seen through the patio door, sitting on the couch and observing them while talking. They looked relaxed, content. With a happy sigh, Hitomi opened the door and went through it, her mug in hand and the blanket worn as a cape over her shoulders.
"Well, well," Shikaku drawled with a tender smile, "didn't take you too long to get it, kitty! A few years of training and maybe you and Shikamaru will manage to kick my ass."
The girl answered that affirmation by snickering cheekily. She and Shikamaru were geniuses, yes, but so was Shikaku, and he had dozens of years of experience on them, no matter the field. They would probably never be his equal, and especially not in his specialty, strategy. It was perfect that way, in her opinion. Shikamaru followed her inside, his board carried in his arms like a precious baby, and the evening continued under that gentle atmosphere until it was time for the two kids to go to bed. Shikaku, who'd come pick up his son in the morning, would join his wife for a well-deserved one-on-one night.