Chapter four: bond

She waits and waits, having ended with the clan's destruction. She watches as Sasuke makes a connection, not a true one like Naruto, who didn't know his clan. He couldn't have watched them pass, not like Sasuke, not like the Uchiha, but it's a connection commonplace around these two. Something she can only hope will make them bond closer, so she waits and waits.

She lets them stew in silence and is then cut off by the bells. She feels a bit worried that her words are going to distract them, but they stand up, trek to the classroom, quiet and contemplative. Before they enter, though, she reminds them, "I... would prefer if you didn't tell anyone about this..." she whispers, feeling terror gripping her heart, an endless aching in her bones of don'tdon'tdon't, they cannot be trustedtrustTRUST.A never-ending chant, as if that would stop her.

Hoshiko continues and lays her head, seeing the damage she's inadvertently done, noticing how their heads are in the clouds, how they cannot seem to focus. Hoshiko hadn't meant for them to get distracted like this, but she can never truly get a feel for the whole picture, can she? All she sees is her small world, her oh-so-small world.

They split, Hoshiko going home to her family, something the boys don't have. She's reminded them that they've lost their world. What kind of friend is she? In the privacy of her room, she panics. She doesn't know what this'll cause, if this was the right choice or not. What if they ask too much? If they tell? What if they—she's already done this whole "what if" thing too many times. Now she has to calm down and stop, so Hoshiko breathes deeply.

She picks up her pen and just sits there, jogging her brain to figure out something to draw. It doesn't matter if she doesn't get anything; it's just a distraction for now. But she can't—the door opens, and she turns to see her brother. He starts towards her, a frown marring his face. He places a hand on her head, and she is forced to look up. "Is something wrong?" she asks, equally worried.

"Ah, it's just... that spot. It's starting to whiten even more now." She frowns and walks over to the only mirror she has. Her brother, Rikuto, helps her spread some hair to reveal one small patch lighter than the other parts, almost white. They both are frowning now. "Do you know what this is?" she asks him absently prodding at the spot, but Rikuto just shakes his head. "No, we should see a doctor about this." Rikuto reaches out again, but Hoshiko shakes her head. "No." She cannot afford to go to the hospital.

What if she's told she can't be a shinobi? What if—she just went over this. No more "what ifs." She'll be as certain about her answers as she can be (her paranoia and anxiety won't let her). Hoshiko walks away from the mirror. "Was that all?" she asks more out of courtesy than anything else.

She loves her brother dearly, but she can't tell him, not about the life she once lived. She cannot tell him about the world, about the future. She doesn't believe her brother could bear that burden. Maybe when he's older, when he has seen the horrors of the world and the rose-tinted glasses which all young people see the world through are broken, battered, and gone.

She doesn't want him to know the darkness, to be intimate with the there, but it's only a matter of time with the path he has chosen. She can only hope that it will not break him. No, her brother should—no, he is stronger than that, and he will survive. He will because if he doesn't, then she won't.

The door clicks, and she releases a breath she didn't know she was holding. The atmosphere had been strangely stilted. Hoshiko isn't too sure if it's her own awkwardness or if it's her brother, but Rikuto had always been more on the antisocial side yet He was kind and funny and was always there for you.

Hoshiko sighs and goes to bed. It's still early, but she desperately needs a nap right now, and maybe it'll clear her mind. She closes her eyes and can feel herself falling asleep. Then she jolts and looks at the sky; it's significantly darker than before, but it's not night.

She rushes out of bed and opens her notebook. There are things she needs to do, things she needs to write down. Hoshiko closes her eyes tightly and wards off the lingering stars in her vision, the taste of metal and victory on her tongue fading slowly but steadily. She is left with a blank mind and the sudden need to move.

She walks downstairs and knocks on a door; there's a quiet "come in," so she opens it. The room is fairly small, with bookshelves lining the wall furthest from her, and the left wall has a sofa, chair, and coffee table with several blankets and pillows strewn around in various shades of black and brown.

She walks up to her father; he had been a shinobi once but couldn't anymore after it was revealed that he had late-onset asthma or adult-onset asthma. Not the best thing to have when you're running around all day. He still contributes in other ways; Father knows sealing, a very limited amount but sealing nonetheless. Hoshiko hopes to puzzle more of it out.

She grabs a chair and hauls it over towards her father. He looks at her amused and smiling; she is glad to know that her father is still happy despite what he had done as a shinobi. Maybe they could also be happy, then.

"Is there anything you need?" her father asks, and she looks at him. She wonders how he met the people that taught him deals.

"Can I learn Fūinjutsu?" she asks, hesitating. This isn't something she'd shown much interest in before, so she wonders if he might reject her request.

What she hadn't expected was the bright smile on his face, as if Christmas had come early—though Christmas doesn't exist here.

"Of course! But first, calligraphy and some ground rules. I've never actually taught anyone before, so they'll be made up as we go. But for now, just remember: no experimenting on your own." Her father is more excited about this than she thought, but maybe this enthusiasm is what's helped him study such a hard thing to master.

He is no master; that's obvious. But he can still make seals, which is better than most, even if they are mainly medical ones. Hoshiko guesses he started that since he got asthma. Many of his efforts, from what he's told her, are to help in that field. He has not succeeded yet, but maybe one day he can lay down knowing that no one has to deal with what he had to.

Hoshiko wonders if maybe it'd be best if he didn't master it. If they let them all go on their own and live their lives without dying, but what do we do if there are no Shinobi here but Shinobi elsewhere? Konoha cannot simply become a civilian settlement; that just wouldn't be possible. As much as she'd love to see a world where they could use this wondrous energy, once made for peace and connection, be used for peace and connection and maybe even the betterment of the people, that just isn't how it works. Not in this world and likely not in her previous one either.

There was so much wrong in that world, and there is so much wrong in this one. Maybe, just maybe, that's truly human nature. No matter where she may go, that will always be human nature. The only thing unchanging is change itself—but Hoshiko believes that if multiple universes existed, then it's likely, no, has to exist, one wherein human nature isn't this vile and unsure and destructive.

Hundreds, maybe even thousands or infinite amounts of parallels to the world she is living in right now. That would mean that she has done everything and anything at some point in some universe. She's probably a criminal in so many.

"Oh, would you look at the time. I should be wrapping everything up right about now. How about you go to your Kā-san and help her set everything up?" Hoshiko nodded absently and walked out the door, not seeing the worried look in her father's eyes.

Hoshiko was still very much stuck in her head when entering the kitchen; she just couldn't understand anything. Her mind was going in loops of what could've happened and what could've been. It was stupid, sudden, and so weird.

Other people didn't have to deal with this sort of thing, did they? She wasn't special, but she wasn't normal. She was just Hoshiko, a girl with too many thoughts, too many insecurities, and way too much knowledge about the future—a future that she is destroying right now. What if peace is never achieved? All because of her. She can't stop the Akatsuki; how else would there be peace?

Everyone was forced together to fight against a greater enemy. There was just no one else who could be that greater enemy. Plus, it's best to get Zetsu's whole plan out of the way before no one knows about it again. She is really the only one beside Zetsu who knows the true consequences of that plan. She also knows of the massacre, of Naruto's parents, of the Kyubi, and their whole reincarnation thing. But that's not true reincarnation, as much as she wishes it was. It would feel nice to know for certain that she isn't alone in the sudden remembrance of another life, even if she is the only one stuck in another world.

Hoshiko breathed in and out; she needs to calm down. Now was not the time for panicking; right now was the time for a nice family dinner with small talk and contentment. She sits down; she was good enough at multitasking to think and place plates down. She also knows that she cannot just let muscle memory take over all the time, but she's pretty sure that the adrenaline will kick her out of that very quickly or just a literal kick would also do—painful but effective, a personal favorite of her once–cousin.

She really doesn't miss that guy. It's easier to think about the ones you don't miss—a total jerk who was also very charismatic and sarcastic. The sarcasm was probably a part of his charm or whatever it is he had. Maybe it's like Sasuke where his chakra is so dark yet so charming in a dark and mysterious way.

Her cousin was definitely mysterious, seeing as they didn't really know about him until they were well into their teens. How, you may ask, or maybe even why? Well. Let's just say their mother was an only child, and that cousin was also their half–brother.

"Family drama..." she sighed. "Am I right?"

"That was a heavy sigh there," her mother asked, worried, having already seen her daughter on autopilot. Hoshiko smiled. "I'm just thinking."

The silence seemed to insinuate an unsaid "and?" Hoshiko has no idea how her mother does it. "About a cousin," she was lightly disappointed from knowing that they also had family drama here, but really, who doesn't at this point?

The rest of her family comes in and they all sit down to eat.