Author's Notes:

One teeny tiny update just hours before the celebrations start. I would like to thank blackgremlins and a lovely guest in FFN as well as geto1 and Bex on Ao3 for the comments and for everyone who favourited, followed and kudos-ed this work. Your feedback means a lot. I know OC-heavy works can be polarising and nearly not as popular as other works. Personally I view it as my motivation to make sure I come up with well-rounded ones and also give canon characters justice. It makes for a good writing exercise. Hope to hear from you guys soon.

Ever since the boys were young, Miyako and Shiori have found ways to raise them together. It was tricky and it took a lot of planning but now that the two have started yochien it had become easier to manage. On Mondays and Tuesdays, Naoki would stay over at the Imanishis until Shiori finished here training with Rakan. On Wednesdays and Thursdays, the two boys would wait in the school playground until Shiori arrived from work to fetch them. She would look after them until Miyako finished her paperworks and lesson plans for the day. On Fridays and weekends, each child would stay with their respective moms.

"You look nice and jolly. Did you have fun at school today?" Shiori asked as they made their way back home.

Naoki and Eiko attending yochien a month ago had been an interesting transition. Shiori always thought of herself as a laid back parent on most aspects. So when it was time to send him off on his first day of school, complete with his school backpack and a ridiculously neon yellow hat, the anxiety that flooded her system surprised her. She had thought of skipping work that day to spy on him from a nearby bush, anything to make sure some freak accident wouldn't befall on her son. And if it wasn't for the fact that her best friend was one of the teachers in that school she would have gone through with the plan.

"We sang. We practised our numbers," Naoki replied before reciting the first dozen of numbers in a singsong voice. "We only sang until 20."

"You can sing until 100 tonight if you want," she urged.

Naoki made a face and shook his head. "We cut out shapes. That was more fun."

"Oh?"

"Oba-chan sensei said it helps improve our fine motor skills."

"Your fine motor - she told you that?" Shiori had to laugh. Naoki had a knack for memorising big words and repeating it to her whenever he had the chance.

"Not to us. To Yuki-sensei." He opened his backpack and retrieved what look like a cutout of a triangle. The edges were jagged, as if it was torn instead of being cut by a pair of scissors.

"Oyy…"

"But scissors are hard, mama."

He had the same problem on their previous exercise. Miyako had warned her about this.

"Well," Shiori replied as she pocketed the triangle, "it's hard now but I'm sure it will be easier for you if you practice more. It will be a little bit trickier for you than most, I'm afraid. You're a leftie. That means you like using your left hand." She waved her left hand at him.

Naoki kept his gaze at her even as he walked. "Are you a leftie too?"

"Rightie. I prefer using my right hand."

This made him frown. "Why am I not a rightie?"

Shiori looked away from him and shrugged.

"It's one of those things that just happen. You're born like that."

Their evenings end with the usual routine. They would have dinner. After that they would do homework which wasn't done earlier. Their homework for the day after had been an easy one and so earlier, the boys breezed through it with time to spare. Because of this, Naoki got to watch some cartoons on the television for a couple of minutes while Shiori did the dishes. Then they would brush their teeth together. He would freshen up and change into his pyjamas. Finally Trivia Night would begin. In their little flat, every night was Trivia Night. Naoki had questions about everything like any child his age. Shiori had promised to try and answer each and everyone of them provided that if she couldn't answer him that night, he would give her a week to study up on the topic.

Tonight it was about the projector she got him for his birthday last December. It was a tiny thing sitting on his bedside table. Whenever they switched it on, it illuminated the bare ceilings of his bedroom with hundreds of green stars and an image of the galaxy lazily spinning in the centre of it all. Every couple of seconds the galaxy would change colours. It had become a nighttime staple for them to lie down and discuss the night's topic while the stars faded in and out around them and the galaxy did its rotations on top of them.

"So that's how it works then," Naoki said after Shiori explained to him the basics of projectors. He looked up again at the light show. "Interesting."

"Pretty much," she sighed, folding her arms behind her head as she lied down next to him. "Have you tried wishing on them?"

"No. They're not real you said."

Shiori shrugged. "No harm in trying."

The four-year-old grew quiet. His dark eyes locked onto a spot on the wall filled with blinking stars.

"I wish I can meet my father," he blurted out abruptly, as though even he knew he shouldn't wish for it.

His words came out of nowhere and came out so quickly that Shiori felt like she had been sucker punched. She looked at him in surprise. It took many seconds for her to find the words and even then she floundered.

"…Naoki…baby, we've talked about this…"

One of the most difficult questions she had to answer was about his father. His Papa, as he called him that day the same way Eiko had called Jin. Why did his best friend have a Papa while he doesn't? Shiori could still remember the innocence in his voice. His eyes looked heavy with sadness while his eyebrows furrowed with what she could only conclude was envy. It was a hard pill to swallow, harder still when the answer she had given him alluded to the fact that it was not possible to see him ever. Naoki had thrown a tantrum that day, kicking and screaming because his three-year-old mind could not accept the fact that he couldn't have something other kids had. Shiori lost her cool and shouted at him to shut up. To this day she still viewed it as her biggest parenting fail to date.

"We've talked about this…" he repeated. "Anyway they are not real stars." It was as if a switch was flicked. He snapped out of his thoughts and yawned loudly.

"Good night Mama."

It didn't take long for him to doze off. Shiori braved a sideway glance at him. He looked so peaceful, as though he didn't just plunge a knife in her heart and twisted it. Hard.

With Naoki asleep, she tiptoed out of his room and went straight to the bathroom to wash her face. She scrubbed at the makeup on her eyebrows, at the traces of eyeliner and mascara which made her features look more angled and intimidating, and finally at the coral lipstick on her mouth. She rinsed and scrubbed until her bare face was visible once again, a sight not many people get to see in Kumogakure. She wore them for the same reason she sheared her waist-length hair into a short bob the same day she stepped out of that boat and had kept it short ever since. She did these out of perceived necessity than interest.

'You can never be too sure,' she would tell herself. She wanted to believe that it would be highly unlikely that someone would recognise her from her days as the Akatsuki's ward. She had looked so different back then. Still it was a possibility, no matter how minute.

One quick shower later, she stepped into a pair of plaid shorts and a long sleeved button down pyjama top before shuffling towards the kitchen for one last glass of water. Most nights she would stay up late to sit on the living room and enjoy the silence. Tonight she was exhausted. Rakan had thoroughly roughed her up earlier.

"Bastard," she chuckled to herself as she stood by the sink, eyes watching the glass she had on her hand quickly fill up.

Out of nowhere, an odd sensation soured her stomach. The hairs at the back of her neck stood on end. She glanced up to the window above the sink and as she did, she clearly made out the reflection of a figure behind her. His hand was over his head, fist curled and ready to strike.

Instincts kicked in.

She spun around a pushed out a burst of chakra from both hands just before he could strike her. The figure dodged in time to avoid a direct hit. Instead the condensed chakra clipped him on the upper arm before landing on the plaster wall behind him. Dust erupted on impact.

"Who are you?" Shiori shouted, hands in front of her at the ready.

There were two of them that she could see. Both of them were covered from head to foot save for small slits for their eyes. They were in front of her, their posture suggesting that they were seconds away from jumping at her. One held a kunai. Another had senbons held in place in his knuckles. She knew her odds. Before the one with the kunai jumped towards her, she took the pot drying on the dish rack and smashed it on the window above the sink.

"Help!" She screamed as loud as she could, hoping one of the neighbours could hear her. "Help-!"

A gloved hand clamped over her mouth and nose. Shiori pressed against her assailant's chest, her feet kicking the kitchen counter as hard as she could until they both tumbled on to the wooden floor. It was all the distraction she needed. She held on to his arm with her left hand while her right dug on the space between his sleeve and his gloved until she touched his bare skin. An influx of the stranger's memories erupted behind her eyes and she bit her lip in an attempt to focus as her shaky hands formed the seals for the Spirit Reflection Technique.

She thought Rakan was being dramatic when he insisted that she learned how to perform the jutsu without hand seals. She had never regretted being this wrong.

As she punctuated the jutsu with the ox hand seal, she elbowed her assailant and rolled out of the way as a bunshin appeared standing above them. It kicked the man on his jaw, making him curl on one side. He howled in pain.

Then it went after the second man in the room. Shiori crouched low and glared at the man who attacked her as his bunshin quickly disarmed the man with the senbon. In her peripheral vision she saw a flutter of limbs against limbs before the familiar sound of flesh against metal filled the room, punctuated by an agonised scream. There was a squelching sound and the second man grew quiet. His body took one of the dining chairs with it as it smashed on the floor.

With the second threat neutralised, the bunshin turned its attention back to the man on the floor. It had him by the collar when a scene emerged from the hallways which made Shiori's blood run cold. There by the entrance to the dining room was a third one, also covered from head to foot. Held against his chest with one arm was Naoki. He kicked and punched to no avail, completely ignoring the kunai held against his neck.

Shiori stood up from the corner of the room looking livid. She saw red. In response the bunshin threw a kunai towards the third assailant's head which he ducked away from. In retaliation, he slashed on Naoki's arm drawing blood. The boy screamed and stilled for a second before resuming to struggle against his hold.

Shiori's hand flew to her mouth as she gasped, "No!"

"Move one muscle and it will be his neck next!" He warned.

It was all he needed to say to drain the fight from her. She threw her hands up. Her heart was beating so loudly she could hear it pounding in her ears. Behind her the bunshin faded away.

"Let go!" Naoki growled, still trying to wriggle out of his captor's grasp. The older man pressed the tip of the kunai against his cheek.

"Keep still," he demanded.

"Naoki do what he says! And don't you dare hurt him!" Shiori shouted at him. She kept her hands above her head. "What the fuck do you want?"

"That useful ability of yours," he replied. "That thing you did just now, that's cool. But you know what I'm talking about don't you?"

Shiori felt a sensation she had not felt in years. It was as if someone dumped ice over her head. She felt chills explode from her shoulders down the entire length of her back. Her stomach curdled. It was the feeling of fear, for her safety and her son's, punctuated with the bitter taste of helplessness at the back of her tongue.

She jumped when she felt a sharp pain at the back of her thighs. She looked down and saw three senbons sticking out from it. The result was instantaneous. Her vision doubled. An electric feeling emerged from her soles and her legs nearly gave out from under her.

"Sorry ma'am. Nothing personal," a warped voice said from somewhere far away.

Shiori caught herself before her knees crashed on the floor only for a strong blow at the side of her face to knock her off balance. She didn't remember hitting the ground but when she came to, she could hear Naoki's panicked cries morphing in and out into low, slow-motion growls.

'Baby I am so sorry,' she thought. She wanted to cry. It was one thing to not be able to save herself. It was a worse sense of failure to not be able to ensure her son's safety.

Shiori blinked rapidly a couple of times, willing herself to stay awake even as her eyelids felt like lead. She wanted to talk, to beg the man who had Naoki to keep him out of this.

'You can have me.' She had wanted to say this but her lips also felt heavy and spastic.

"N..N-…No-" she was slammed back against the floor. Someone sat on her hips and screamed, "You stupid bitch!"

Then the punches started raining straight at her face, heavy and painful. She wanted to block them like Rakan had taught her. But how could she when her arms refused to cooperate.

"No! Mama!" Naoki was sobbing now and it broke her heart.

Blood spilled from her left eye down her lips, the metallic taste of it invading her senses. She felt half of her torso being lifted off the floor before a strong sucker punch hit her so hard it might have shattered one of her cheekbones. The impact made her head slam against the hardwood floor before bouncing back up for a split second and slamming on it the second time.

"Mama-!"

'What a shame,' she thought to herself. She looked back at the four years she had spent training under Rakan. Four years filled with blood, sweat and tears. She truly believed she fought hard and had grown strong. She had been confident that if they ever faced mortal peril she could at least get them away to safety. And once again, the universe made it a point to humble her in the most painful way possible. Moments like this made her think that she had been a terrible person in her past life. For how else could someone deserve such rotten luck.

Every inch of her body begged for her to let go. The darkness was mesmerising, comfortable even. It took all of her to stay conscious. Even as she was losing the fight against her eyelids she fought the urge to black out.

"Naoki-" she whispered. Stay awake for him. She gasped as hot, metallic blood splattered across her face. The first thing she thought was that her throat had been slashed. She waited for the flood of blood to drown her lungs. Nothing.

"Naoki," she slurred, this time louder. The top part of her body was being scooped from the floor. Something or someone warm supported the back of her sore head. With great effort she pried her tired eyes open. One was swollen shut.

Her heart staggered for a few beats.

'Not real,' she thought.

Shiori was certain that the drug that senbon was dipped in could have knocked down a horse. The effect on her was so strong that not only did it take her down in the blink of an eye, it also made her trip so hard that she caught glimpses of the afterlife.

She blinked once, hoping that her one working eye would focus. The image didn't change. It merely doubled and then merged into a single solid phantom of a person.

Itachi was looking down on her, looking exactly as she remembered him all those years ago. He looked angry. His lips were moving but she couldn't make out what he was saying. She was too focused at the three tomoe of his Sharingan. Or was it more appropriate to call it the hallucination of his Sharingan?

She gained use of her left hand and she shakily tried to swat the hallucination away. It really was not the right time to reminisce about the past, she thought wryly. She thought perhaps she was reliving a memory, most likely because her son brought up the topic of him not too long ago.

"-Shiori look at me-" It even demanded like Itachi.

'Oh shut up,' she wanted to mouth him off. Not that it mattered because he wasn't really there.

'Not real,' the words repeated over and over again in her drug-hazed mind even as she could hear him breathe.

She turned her head to the side and called out to her son once again.

"C'mere.." She slurred.

The sound of hurried footsteps echoed in the quiet house. She saw the blurry image of Naoki running towards where she lied before skidding to a stop a few feet in front of her.

He had been sobbing. And then she heard him gasp. Before she could hear what he was saying she finally lost the battle against the darkness and slipped into unconsciousness.