I'm so sorry I'm late this week. I had a major surgery on Monday and was still very out of it yesterday. I feel better now!

She had just spent the worst night of her life. What should have been a joyful celebration had ended up in blood, terror, and tears. She only wanted one thing: to go home, hug her little boys as hard as she could without hurting them, and finally close her eyes. This respite had been taken away from her, however, by the ANBU operatives who, instead of offering her the help and comfort she needed after seeing Biwako and Taji being murdered, had arrested her and treated her like a criminal.

She had lost two comrades that night, and she didn't know why she was still alive herself, didn't know what the masked man had seen in her, what had restrained his blade. That didn't matter, not really; what he'd seen in her hadn't stopped him from taking the tiny, adorable baby her friend had just given birth to from her arms as she was cleaning him. She had stayed in the room where Kushina had gone through labour, alone amongst corpses, terrified, until the ANBU had arrived and taken her away.

She only owed her freedom, after a few hours in a cold, dirty cell, to her husband's influence. He was still there, sitting right next to her, a hand against her back as a rare public gesture of comfort and support. He was dignified, after all, so dignified, so proud. It was one of the things that had made her fall in love with him, even though their wedding had only been a political one in the beginning.

In front of them, the Third breathed deeply then straightened up, his stare hard and serious. "I can't let you have Naruto." The sentence was short, cutting, and left the two Uchiha outraged. Mikoto's heart broke as a rush of panic washed over her. She was Naruto's godmother, for the Hermit's sake! Minato had chosen the godfather, and Kushina had… She had chosen Mikoto to watch over her son if something happened to her. But even the formidable, terrifying jinchūriki hadn't expected the Shinigami to take her so soon.

Before she could open her mouth, try to defend her rights, the man that was once called a god amongst Shinobi talked again. "We still don't know what happened, Mikoto-san. The only thing we know for sure is that you are the only survivor. Given those conditions, the Konoha Council and I refuse to put the jinchūriki in your care. We can't guarantee you wouldn't use it to release the Kyūbi on the village once more, it's a safety measure, nothing more."

And suddenly, suddenly Mikoto started to hate that man, who was speaking about Naruto as if he was nothing but a weapon, with all she had. Her eyes burned with the effort to attempt to awaken the Mangekyō Sharingan. Had been burning without rest since last night. She had only fought against it because she knew how this new, terrible ability would only make her even more suspect in front of the rest of the village. The blooming of her hatred, violent and yet so quiet, almost pushed her over the edge despite her best efforts. "I'm his legal guardian now," she tried. "You can't…"

"I can!" the Third snapped. "I can and I will. Jiraiya, the boy's godfather, passed his responsibilities on me before leaving the village for a long trip. If you can make him change his mind, I'll have to bend. Until then, however, you won't go anywhere near Naruto."

For the first time since that dreadful night had started, Mikoto fell apart. It was discreet, because she was still a kunoichi, born and raised to become the Uchiha Lady since she was a child. A lukewarm, bitter tear ran down her pale cheek. She stiffened her hands on her knees to stop them from forming fists, her exhausted eyes looking at the delicate fingers and dirty nails – she hadn't had the occasion to clean them, to wash away the blood and dirt. She forced herself to meet Fugaku's eyes.

And there, she saw it.

The perfect reflection of her own hatred.

That night, for the first time, Uchiha Mikoto followed her husband under the Nakato temple, the only building on the clan lands to have resisted the Demon Fox's fury, and she listened to what the men had to say. For the first time, she became the traitor Konoha saw in her anyway.

Hitomi woke up with a start, her eyes wide open. She shook so hard her teeth chattered, her breath shallow and painful. She had never had a dream that gave her such an impression of reality. She tried to appease her body and her mind and sat down on her bed, hugging her legs with her arms. She was terrified, in a way that even childhood nightmares had never managed to make her.

It took her long minutes to calm down enough to think coherently. The dream, of course, was waiting in her Library to be filed and analysed, but what was she even supposed to do with it? She knew Uchiha Mikoto had been friends with Uzumaki Kushina, but she didn't know if they had been together during the labour that had led to the Kyūbi attacking Konoha, the death of its jinchūriki and of Hokage the Fourth. Yet, it seemed plausible. With great precautions, she filed the dream in an empty shelf of the section reserved for her new world. Her gut told her this shouldn't be easily discarded.

In the morning, she was horrified to hear about the Uchiha Massacre, which had happened during the night. She burst into tears in her mother's arms, her mind still full of the quiet, gentle hatred Mikoto had felt for the Third. Her hands tensed so hard against Kurenai's back her joints ached, a sensation she perceived somewhere deep and far away inside her mind. It took her more than ten minutes to become calm enough to act.

She sat at her desk under her mother's ever-watching stare and started writing, her cheeks still wet with tears. She hurt, hurt for Sasuke who was suddenly alone, hurt for Itachi who only wanted peace and abhorred violence, but her words, that at least she knew, were never more beautiful or truer than when her pain took control and spoke for her. At least, for once, they would be useful, really useful.

The funerals happened two days later. The Academy would only re-open the following day – two teachers and seven students were amongst the victims. The endless rows of coffins, some of them so little, made Hitomi shiver and ache deep inside. She still held herself straight and strong, as dignified as a child could be in the de rigueur black kimono. Eight monks had come from the Fire Temple to lead the oration, their deep, solemn voices praying for each of the one hundred forty-nine victims to have eternal peace now that they had departed.

Hitomi noticed Sasuke standing in front of his parents' coffins. He wasn't crying, but his fists were so clenched it had to hurt, his dark and tired eyes staring at nothing in front of him. The girl knew him well enough to know that he wanted – and had to – say a few words at least, but didn't know what to say. He had never been good with words, their beauty and righteousness. She, however, had that gift. Encouraged by her mother's hand brushing against her back, she went to join him.

Long minutes passed, the children standing side by side in silence. It slowly attracted the adults' attention, but they didn't notice it. When Sasuke finally turned toward her, she offered him a sheet of paper with both hands. It was folded twice and covered in her handwriting on both sides – her gift to him. He took it in the same way, slightly bowing by reflex before unfolding it and starting to read for himself. His dark eyes widened slightly when he understood what she had given him and, if he didn't smile, a quiet relief appeared on his features. It was enough, and so much more than he could have done by himself. Worthy of them. Respectfully, Hitomi took a step back as he straightened and spoke, reading the speech she had written in his name.

When the boy's voice choked around the words, Hitomi put a gentle hand on his forearm, just for a moment. She hadn't expected him to become a true friend in the months she had spent training and working with him, but they had too much in common for it to have gone any other way. She had spent many afternoons at his place studying for a test or working on the katas Ensui had taught her and that she had offered him in turn. She had seen Itachi's features slowly grow gaunt with anguish, the tender and reserve affection uniting Mikoto and Fugaku. She had seen it all, and her heart was mourning too.

Several hours later, when the ceremony had ended and the guests had started to leave, Kurenai approached the two children, noticing their linked hands and the way they drew comfort from each other's presence. Sasuke's free hand was clasped around the oration Hitomi had gifted him – a gesture the young mother approved of entirely. She knelt down to look them in the eyes, extending a hand to gently pat the boy's shoulder. "I spoke to the Hokage," she announced in a soft voice. "If you want, you can come live with us from now on. We're very extended family, but you're still my blood and I would be honoured to take you as my ward."

Sasuke looked astonished by her proposal. Internally, Hitomi was too. She knew it hadn't happened that way in the canon, knew that Sasuke had simply lived alone because in the Hokage's mind it was totally fine to let seven years old kids live alone. When her friend looked at her, as if asking for her approval, she nodded with a quiet smile. Only then did he answer, almost choking on his own words. "I-I accept. Thank you, Yūhi-san. You have no idea how much it means to me." So dignified, even in sorrow.

"Call me Kurenai, please. Come, let's go find some food. It's getting late and I'm sure you're both hungry."

Two stomachs growling answered that question. With a sad little smile, the young woman stood up and took both children to a civilian Akimichi restaurant in the area. The meal was quiet, the discussion focusing mostly on Sasuke's room and how he wanted to decorate it to really make it his own. The topic was voluntarily light. Hitomi sometimes intervened to suggest a shade or pattern that she knew her friend liked.

That night, the boy joined her in her room in the middle of the night, his cheeks drenched in tears. Supposing he probably had had a nightmare – who wouldn't, in his place? – she didn't say a word, simply moving sideway in her bed to give him space. He crawled between the warm sheets, as silent as she was, taking refuge in the open arms ready for him, then fell back asleep.

The following days were a challenge. Sasuke, as was to be expected, was deeply affected by his brother's betrayal and by what he had seen during that wretched night. His visits to Hitomi's bed became a habit, since it didn't really disturb her. Sasuke was an agitated sleeper, but she managed to ignore it, sometimes by going to her Library instead of really sleeping. The most important, for her, was that he was getting better little by little. When the third year started, he was able to sleep in his bed all night again.

Hitomi's nightmares continued to appear every few days to put her in a state of constant anxiety. She didn't see the past anymore but the future, little pieces of it that, as she well knew, hadn't been modified by her actions yet. Those dreams reminded her of why she sometimes had difficult decisions to take and how long the path still was under her feet.

Third year began at top speed with Mizuki's class. Up to that point, he had only made them work on ways to improve their stamina, speed, strength and flexibility without ever applying it to fighting in any way, but it was time for them to learn the basic Konohajin katas. They were different from the ones Ensui had taught Hitomi, the ones she had in turn taught to her group of friends, but they still had an advantage on other students, since they already knew how to work on that kind of exercises.

Hitomi fell into a comfortable routine week after week. She didn't really like the katas taught in the Academy but mastered them as soon as Mizuki showed them to the class. She didn't really see what they could offer her: their style was very flat, predictable, polyvalent but without a true advantage in any aspect of a fight. The ones Ensui had taught her were a better fit for her, by far: thanks to them, she had learned to target her opponent's weak spots and vital points, then back away before they could reciprocate. Fighting like that required astonishing speed she was still far from reaching and a lot of agility, but very little strength. A perfect combination for her.

Before Hitomi realised it, the fourth year had started. Now, the Fellowship, as she liked to call it, was established in the Academy, and the three groups had been reduced to two, still separated by levels. The taijutsu class gathered all the students now and, one month after the beginning of the school year, Mizuki announced that it was time for them to start sparring. Hitomi felt ready and self-assured. She had trained and only feared fighting against Hinata or Ino – because, of course, the teacher had separated girls and boys, as if there was such a gap in strength that pitching them against each other wouldn't have been good for anything.

The way he organised these duels was obnoxious, Hitomi picked upon it instantly: the teacher picked two weak children for the first match, then selected a student from the ones who hadn't fought yet to spar against the winner. He claimed he was doing it at random but, very often, the matches opposed a weak and a strong student. He used an Earth Clone to keep an eye on the girls while he watched over the boys.

Hitomi smelled trouble when Aimi overcame her opponent, another civilian girl, and Hinata was called to fight next. The girl couldn't stand to be excluded from the Fellowship and, rather than trying to join it by being nice and polite, she verbally attacked everyone of its members every chance she got. She especially picked on Hinata, the only girl who didn't fight back. Most often, Hitomi or Ino stepped in and sent Aimi away with a cutting remark. Seeing their friend climb on the stage the teacher had built with an Earth Release technique made the two girls nervous. Aimi had a violent, vicious fighting style for a civilian, and Hinata… Hinata wasn't there yet. She hadn't yet cultivated the aggressiveness she needed to fight against that kind of opponent.

Hitomi clenched her teeth through the whole fight, her red eyes fixed on the little bully who took such obvious pleasure in hurting her friend, one hit after the other. Hinata tried to fight back, but she had never tried to fight outside of katas or friendly spars amongst the Fellowship. Even when she parried punches and kicks, she couldn't quite hide the pain it made her feel.

And then Hinata tripped and fell on one knee with a pained yelp. One of her cheeks was red and slightly swollen, and the other sported a deep clawing mark. Her hands had taken the worst of it, though. She probably wouldn't be able to use them for hand seals in Iruka's class the next day. She opened her mouth to yield, but didn't even have the time to articulate the word before Aimi's hand struck her already painful cheek, the impact violent enough to make her head tilt to the side.

An icy anger invaded Hitomi's mind as she watched her best friend fall unconscious after a last, vicious punch to the temple. She and Ino were the only ones who hadn't fought yet, on the girls' side. When the clone called her, Hitomi tried to stay impassive, wiping the blood on Hinata's split lip before dragging Hinata to the edge of the stage as gently as she could so Ino could take her and wake her up. Only then did she look up and meet Aimi's eyes, which were suddenly nervous. For the first time in her life, a bit of killing intent bloomed on her skin like a poisonous flower, turning the air around them heavy and stale.

She didn't care.

Blood called for blood, after all.