Kazumi has always felt like there was an empty void inside her and no matter what she did, nothing filled that emptiness within her.
(Except that one time she 'accidentally' set the upperclassmen's science lab on fire.
That was fun.
Especially when no one found out it was her.)
But that raw energy that the woman exuded, that had her heart soaring, she could feel the blood pumping in her veins, her eyes gleaming and finally, finally a genuine smile spread across her face.
This is it, this is what she's been missing all this time.
The moment Kazumi and her parents returned back to their house, she immediately made her way to her bedroom and locked it. She walked to the middle of the room sitting down on the floor in a meditative position. She closes her eyes and revisits every memory that had led up to this point.
Those dreams, they are not dreams at all, they are memories, they are fragments of a life long passed. These dreams are too detailed, too vivid, and too real to be just regular dreams.
Kazumi had lived another life. She's sure of that now. She should be dead, yet she is alive. But that should not be possible, suddenly recalling memories of a past life is unheard of. And she's definitely not hallucinating, that's not how it works. The symptoms don't match, she checked.
Only one way to confirm.
Kazumi opens her eyes and looks at the clock on the bedside table, it was only ten minutes until two, there would be enough time for sleep later. Closing her eyes once again, she reaches into her core, trying to draw out the same energy she had sensed in that woman at the restaurant.
It's hard to do, especially when she doesn't know what she's reaching for, she has a vague idea of it, yes, but that's all she has. Right now she's acting completely on instinct.
It takes her a lot of time to reach for it but when she does she directs it toward her hands as much as she can, it's so malicious and so full of negativity. Her palm lit up a shade of blue so dark she almost couldn't discern it in the dim lighting. She did it. It's only a flicker compared to the energy that woman had but she did it.
Feeling giddy, Kazumi tries again with her other hand, with two hands shimmering with this energy, she walks towards the wall of her bedroom. She remembers the way she walked up on trees in her dreams, placing both of her palms on the wall she crawled up to the wall. But she immediately slid back down.
…That wasn't supposed to happen.
Granted that in her dreams, she was walking up the tree not crawling but still if it worked with her feet it should work with her hands too. But no matter, she will not give up that easily, she'll try again and again until she gets it right.
Kazumi spends hours trying to circulate the energy towards her limbs and when she finally gets the hang of it, she tries again but not all of her attempts are successful. She loses count of her attempts by the time she takes her first step up the wall. It didn't matter that it was only one step, neither did the pain in her back from falling down so many times, all that matters is that she did it.
And for the first time ever, Kazumi feels accomplished, she feels like she belongs.
That night Kazumi dreams of a war. Tired soldiers fighting to their last breath, fighting to protect their nation, hands moving quickly to make hand seals and forming flames to attack, the other forces creating a barrier made up of mud to defend themselves, conjuring up spears with only water to retaliate. They fought even with few of their limbs missing.
Public executions of war prisoners in front of their comrades to break their resolve, dead bodies scattered all over the battlefield. People abandoning their morality in face of terror, attacking friend or foe alike, stealing weaponry, rations, whatever they could get their hands on.
Then she finds herself in the middle of the carnage, weaving illusions to disorient the enemy and taking advantage of their confusion she attacks, spewing out a flame so great it burns everything in its wake, the rotten smell of burnt flesh heavy in the air. Her blades eliminated those the flames didn't catch.
That night, she dreams of courage and determination, brutality and cruelty, desperation and fear, violence and bloodlust, life and death.
(Sometimes she dreams of her own death, at the hands of a loved one.)
After that, she wakes up, tears prickling at the corner of her eyes. She sits up, rubbing the last traces of sleep and tears from her eyes.
Was that a memory too? Was she in the military in her past life?
So the energy she had been playing around with hours ago had more purpose than just sticking on walls. It was weaponized to slaughter, to conquer, and to win.
Somehow the thought of it didn't horrify her as much as one would expect.
What really stood out to Kazumi in that dream wasn't how they utilized this energy/chakra, no it was her eyes, those red eyes that would switch to black in the blink of an eye. She has a feeling that she was the only one who could do that on that battlefield.
Ever since then, Kazumi often finds herself staring at her eyes in the mirror. They are black in color, pitch black so much so that she can't even see her pupils. Very similar to the ones in her dream.
Now if only these dreams would tell her how to activate those red eyes.
"Sweetie, stop glaring at the mirror, it will shatter into pieces!" Her mother scolds, all while braiding Kazumi's hair.
What even… where is the logic in that statement? Well, maybe it would if she glared with those eyes.
"The mirror isn't going to break if I squint a little, Mama," Kazumi responds.
"Don't get smart with me young lady. Now come downstairs to have breakfast." Her mother says while making her way to the kitchen.
"Yes, Ma'am." Kazumi drawls, raising her arm in a mock salute. Her mother just shakes her head at her antics. She follows her mother down the stairs and to the dining table, where her father is sitting, reading the newspaper.
That's ridiculous, he never reads the newspaper.
"If it isn't the two most beautiful ladies in my life!" Her father exclaims and– is he trying to hide behind the newspaper?
"Who are you and what have you done to Papa?" Kazumi needs answers, and she needs them now.
"My only daughter, how could you?" Her father gasps dramatically, placing a hand on his chest.
"Speak, what have you done this time?" Her mother demands, narrowing her eyes at him. She does not look amused.
"Well, You see…" Her father starts but never quite gets to finish his statement.
"Is that my coffee machine!? It's in shambles!" She exclaims in horror, her hands cradling the now obviously broken machine. Her mother glares at him, if looks could kill, her father would be dead twice over.
Taking her seat at the dining table, Kazumi tunes them out and begins to have her breakfast. Really her parents are too overdramatic. Not a day goes by in the house without their theatrics, but she'd never trade it for the world.
She looks over to her parents who are busy bickering with each other, unaware of the turmoil brewing within her, unaware of these creatures lurking around in the darkest corners of the world. She had observed them at the restaurant from the corner of her eyes, they had shown no outward reaction, in fact, they hadn't even looked in that man's direction. After they arrived at the house they didn't even mention a word, and that is proof enough for her that her parents are simple civilians who have no connection to the military (or whatever organization that woman is part of).
She thinks of bloodied hands and glazed-over eyes, of the bone-deep weariness she'd felt in that dream (or rather memory). She doesn't believe she was happy in that life, who would be? Living just to be a tool for destruction, from what she has deduced from all the dreams she's had.
Is it too much to hope that maybe this is destiny's way of recompensing? Maybe this life will be different. Maybe one day she will be able to consider this house, a home. Maybe this is her salvation from her bloody past. Maybe this is her second chance to do things the right way.
(She really should have known better.
Destiny had never sided with shinobi, especially the Uchiha.)