Sakura frowned, staring at the byoki.
It wasn't anything like anything she had ever seen before.
It wasn't anything like anything Arden had seen before.
Sakura had, over the past several weeks, had more luck than usual in mining through Arden's memories.
The new pills, the new therapist suggestions, the new self-acceptance she'd found—she had done much, even if it hadn't been as much as she might have hoped—had seemed to allow her to reach deeper into Arden's memories, find more of Naruto.
It was an anime.
It wasn't even an anime Arden had actively watched; it had been a favorite of her younger brother, of their cousins.
She'd half-watched the episodes in the background, had been aware of but never read the manga which went into more detail.
It was just fiction, after all.
She only paid attention for the entertainment.
Still, she had paid attention.
She had, upon realizing that she'd ended up in a newborn's head in a world far too similar to Naruto's to dismiss, tried to tie those memories together, figure out what she did know.
Naruto, son of Kushina and Minato.
Sasuke, sole survivor of the Uchiha massacre.
Sakura, student of Tsunade.
Kakashi, with one of Obito's eyes; porn-obsessed and powerful.
The Hokage, Sarutobi Hiruzen, old and in power because of the death of his successor.
The Kyuubi.
The Akatsuki.
The massive battles.
The defections, betrayals, deaths.
She'd felt, over the weeks, increasingly confident—so much already out of date, Danzo already dealt with, Orochimaru being actively sought—
And then this.
Tsunade had known was a big deal it was.
She'd shown up pale-faced.
Confused.
Research still—
This wasn't anything like anything.
Byoki couldn't be related to the world around it.
It didn't act right.
No one had any idea about how to even begin to deal with it—it seemed to make chakra behave weird, seemed to make everything behave weird.
A glass tube that contained it perfectly well one day might be empty the next time someone looked—Taro even swore he saw the byoki oozing out of a container once.
They'd moved the work out of Konoha.
Out of anywhere civilized.
Gone out to the middle of one of Fire's rare mountains, gone to one of the caves.
Worked there.
The byoki still disappeared, but at least now they didn't have to worry about it harming Konoha.
What was it?
Really?
How could they possibly figure it out?
Sakura felt—
Lost.
Scared.
She'd become used to working with Arden's memories, or whatever parts she had access to, but now she knew with certainty that Arden had never dealt with anything like this.
"I wonder," Hotaru said.
He didn't finish.
Sakura turned, looked at him.
"Religion," he elaborated.
Sakura blinked.
She'd never bothered much with religion—hadn't actually wanted to know more about her situation, hadn't dove more than what was necessary to be a part of Yamanaka culture.
Arden certainly had not been much help there—all of her grandparents had been different cultures; a Catholic man who converted first to Judaism and then to Theism, an Atheist woman, a late-convert to the Jehovah's Witness faith (having previously been a Mormon), a Protestant who'd bounced around churches with every move to find whichever he agreed with most.
Arden herself had been raised agnostic, by agnostic parents. They hadn't discouraged faith studies—her sister had married a Methodist and converted, and her younger brother had, after a series of bad decisions, found something of a source of stability in Buddhism, and was at the time of Arden's… change of circumstances… dating a Pagan.
Arden might not herself have been interested in religion, but she'd actually been surrounded by a surprising diversity of faiths (and lack-thereofs) which had, if anything, only cemented Arden's own version of agnostic atheism.
The atheism had disappeared upon Arden's arrival in a newborn's brain.
The agnosticism had not.
"Religion?" Sakura said out loud.
"Religion, philosophy, science, Research—we're all just trying to answer questions." Hotaru said. "We have no answers, so we may as well ask around to see if anyone else has better luck."
Sakura hummed. "Who to start with?"
She knew his answer, of course.
The Uchiha, the Yamanaka, the Utatane—almost every single clan in Fire.
All of them worshipped the same faith.
"I was thinking of asking the Fire Monks." Hotaru said. His eyes slid, finally, to Sakura. "Any reason to go for someone else?"
They were, Sakura supposed, as likely to know something as anyone else. "I'm guessing you want me to actually reach out."
Hotaru relaxed, shrugged. "You're the one with the Diplomacy training."
Of course.
.
Anko picked at a loose thread in her dress.
She knew she shouldn't—had been remonstrated over it more times than she could count—but the habit remained. When she was anxious, she picked.
It wasn't as if she was going to be caught, anyway—all of the adults were in the town hall, talking to the guests.
Anko was watching over her younger siblings (she had three now) and keeping pests away; it was almost time for the rice harvest, which meant that a constant battle had to be fought against the wild things that might take some of her family's earnings away.
That's what her younger siblings were doing now, actually, chasing off the birds and screeching to disturb any sneakier animals.
Anko should be with them.
She wasn't.
She'd seen the guests, after all, before they'd entered the town hall.
Ninja.
Shinobi.
Anko swallowed.
Papa had bought some of the new rice, last year, being sold at a discount by the Akimichi clan. He'd thought it was worth it, he told Mama, even though they had enough seed not to need to buy a new crop.
It had been worth it.
Their rice had grown unusually well, was doing so again this year.
Then there was the combine.
It hadn't come to the village yet, but mama's brother had sent word through the traveling shoemaker that his town had rented one out for the season, that it was huge and noisy and expensive but did the work so fast and well enough that he'd had time to go work in a noble's orchard, bring back some fruit for the family on top of their traditional harvest.
Papa was planning on renting a harvester for the town, too, had been arguing for it ever since the shoemaker came.
The work was easier, now, Anko knew.
Easier, but that wasn't always a good thing.
Easier meant more arguments in town hall, more questions over land.
They couldn't carve out any more of the forest, not without permission from the Daimyo, but with the combine and the new rice, the land seemed to need less labor.
Two weeks ago Anko had been eavesdropping—the nastiest habit of hers, according to mama—and heard that some of the men were planning on signing their younger sons up to go to the ninja Academy over in Konoha, miles and miles away.
They already sent their boys to the school one town over, the men said. If they weren't using the boys for labor, then they might as well get as good a chance at making something of themselves as possible.
Konoha, everyone knew now, was the village of possibility.
Of death, too, but—
Papa said that was the risk they were going to have to take. He could afford to send his younger sons off, and so he would.
Many of the other men agreed.
Anko didn't want to send her younger brothers off.
Her older brother—older than her by five years, already nearly a man—never really talked to her, and the other girls in the town found Anko too boyish, too willing to play in the dirt for her age.
She liked her brothers.
She could play with them.
Anko startled, suddenly, as a shadow fell over her.
It was a girl.
A woman, really—
A kunoichi.
Anko swallowed, tried to speak, failed.
"You look worried." The woman said.
Anko, knowing words would fail her, nodded.
The woman was about to say something else, when she turned, stabbed at something in the dirt. "Nara! Now!"
Another man appeared, stared at whatever the woman had stabbed. "Well, that's not good." The Nara said.
Anko tried to peer around, see over their bodies.
It was a little wriggling black thing.
The Nara fished out a piece of paper, held it over the black thing.
The black thing disappeared.
The adults had come out of the Town Hall, had followed the shinobi.
Now he gestured them back inside.
The woman went to follow, then hesitated.
Turned back to Anko.
"Do you know why we're here?"
Anko nodded. "Ninja Academy."
The woman smirked. "Do you want to go?"
"Can't. I'm a girl."
"I'm a girl too; I went."
Anko shrugged; "Papa only talked about my younger brothers going."
"Would you like to, if you could?"
Anko considered.
Yes, she decided, she would.
Ninja had more than enough money not to worry about picking at their threads, and Papa and Mama said they spied too. That meant eavesdropping, and Anko really liked doing that.
She nodded.
The woman smiled, and then suddenly she was in the Town Hall too.
Anko wondered if one of her younger brothers would teach her that, when they came by to visit after the Academy.
It seemed a neat trick.
.
Ibiki, now in what had been until recently his final semester of school—he was eight, and born in the Spring, so an additional three semesters had been tacked on—tackled Sakura as she fought with the door (it was old now, creaky. Likely needed new hinges. It made it easier for Ibiki to time his ambushes, though, so Sakura knew at least one person liked it.)
"Asuma's going to the Capital, for the new wedding of the Daimyo!"
Ah, right. The Daimyo's previous wife had died—no sign of malice, according to Shin, just the bad luck of childbirth—which meant the ceremony which welcomed the new one was due to begin.
"Is he?"
"He's been bragging about it all day! I've already asked Uncle Juro—" And now Sakura saw Juro sitting at the table, sipping tea and looking like he'd spent at least an hour listening to nonstop begging "—and he said you two would think about it, so can I go too? I'll be on my best behavior!"
The competition between Asuma and Ibiki, while thankfully remaining (relatively) healthy, had also seemed to ramp up in the past months.
When Ibiki had learned poisons by hanging out with his uncle, Asuma had learned poisons by hanging out with an aunt.
When Asuma had gotten a diplomacy tutor, Ibiki's letters to Shin had tripled in size.
When Ibiki had begun studying a new taijutsu style, Asuma had convinced one of his older brothers to teach him the more advanced moves of the Sarutobi style.
And now…
Well, it certainly wasn't unexpected.
Still, considering she'd already been planning a visit to the Fire Temple to see Fire Monks… "I have to talk to the Hokage tomorrow, or the day after, but I may be attending the celebrations as well… Juro, do you want to come too?"
Juro's eyes raised, perfectly aware of what she was working on, and then he smirked. "Chinmoku back together again."
"That's a yes, right?" Ibiki asked. "That sounded like a yes."