(Edited: 07/18/2021)
(Edited: 08/21/2020)
(Edited: 08/17/2018)
And as the world
turns to twilight,
You bury
my memory.
(-Unknown)
Chapter 3: Disgust
…
The wind blew through throngs of people as they cried. Tears falling shamelessly from their eyes like overcast rain-clouds.
Among the mourning crowd stood a confused little girl, standing dutifully at her mother's side.
Both, like all of the others around, were dressed in black. It looked as if a giant squid splashed ink over the carefully managed grass. The pair stood the closest to a rectangular hole in the ground as a large box was placed on some metal contraption over the hole.
Her mother wore a dark lace veil that covered her tear-tracked face. 'a strange thing to wear,' the little girl thought. No one else was wearing one from what she could tell. Why was her mom?
As she pondered, her caramel eyes traveled across the rows of people around them. The barely contained sobs coming from the group, made up mostly of family and strangers, carried on the wind like a particularly sad symphony.
It was a sad day, after all. A day formally marking the end of someone's life. Not that the child understood.
The little girl pushed her chestnut brown hair behind her ear nervously and looked up to her mother inquisitively. "Mommy?" she prodded, grabbing her mother's hand in her smaller one and tugging.
Her young mind couldn't comprehend why everyone was so sad. Why everyone was wearing black, standing around a hole to watch as a black lacquered box steady lowered into its muddy maw.
She knew inside of that box was her father. She had seen the same black box just before the long ride to the field filled with named stones. The only difference was that one side of the box had been open, showing the torso of a man she barely knew. Now it was closed.
At first, she had thought her father to be sleeping. Her mom used to complain about how little sleep he got, thanks to his job. So maybe they bought him a special bed?
It didn't explain the people watching and crying, though. Nor the dozens of pictures of him, or the priest praying over his unconscious body.
"Mommy," she tried again, tongue darting out nervously to lick her already chapped lips. "Why are they putting daddy in the ground?" her question was innocent in nature, but strangely enough, it made the people around cry harder.
Her brows pulled together in another wave of confusion. Had she done something wrong again?
Her mother, beautiful and delicate in nature, kneeled beside her. Many times, she opened her mouth to speak; but nothing came out. Her hand fluttered over the child's chubby cheek, the touch reminding her of a butterfly. 'At least she stopped wringing her hands together,' the girl thought.
Why couldn't someone just tell her what was happening? Already people had made great efforts not to look at her in the eyes. Instead, they would turn to her mother and express how sorry they were.
Whatever that meant.
"It… It's hard to explain, Jemma. You're too young to understand." Her mother murmured finally, voice cracking.
Tired of looking into the tear-filled hazel eyes of her mother, Jemma drew her attention back to the bed-box that her father slept in.
Something told her she was supposed to be sad. That the people around her expected her to have broken down and cried, screaming until nothing was left of her but shaking bones.
Yet, she wasn't—she helped with gardening enough to guess what was going on. She was the smartest in her class, after all.
"How is it hard to explain? They are planting him, right? So, he's going to become a plant—or a tree!" her brown eyes darted back to her mom, excitement making her smile brighten enough to eclipse the mourning around her.
Who wouldn't want to be a tree? Her teacher said they filtered the air everyone breathes. How cool was that?
A slow breath left her mother. The older woman's touch firmed as it began running through her only child's hair.
"…Yes, baby. Daddy's time here as a human is over but… but he'll grow into a beautiful tree. A tree so big: his roots will reach the heart of the earth and join with every other tree on the planet. That way, no matter where you go, he will always be there." The older woman wrapped her arms around her daughter in a tight embrace. "He will watch over you. Be there to shield you from all of your fears. Sleeping and awake."
It was only years later—when Jemma grew older—that she learned the truth. From that moment on, she decided, she was not particularly fond of funerals.
"Pookah come back!"
Dead grass crunched under Jemma's sneaker clad feet as she ran: breath heavy and lungs screaming. She knew nothing good would have come from going to a dog park. What teenager in their right mind even left the house? Surely, there wasn't anything too great about the outdoors. She could have been doing so many other things. Like studying for her bio test tomorrow.
Yet, there she was; forced by her mother to take Pookah on 'field trip' so she could 'be social.'
The two-year-old Pomeranian had taken off as soon as Jemma let her guard down to send her best friend, Marcy, a text. Her hold hadn't been the strongest to begin with and, with only one tenth of her mind on him, the little rat yanked his leash from her lax fingertips and booked it.
Her heart rose to her throat when Pookah made to dash out in the middle of the busy street—but before her faithful rat could make it, a man ran up and scooped the small, white fuzz-ball into his arms.
Seeing this, Jemma let out a cry of joy. Her dog was safe—and she could finally stop running!
Out of breath, the brunette bent over, signaling the man with a finger to give her a moment. It wasn't like she was overweight or anything. Sure, she was substantially squishy in places—but not in an unhealthy way!
Not overweight, just, you know—out of shape.
"Wow. How long have you been running?" the man inquired, a hint of mirth in his deep voice.
Well, she definitely wasn't going to tell him—or anyone—the truth. "Two…" a huff, "Miles…." She lied breathing in and out a few more times before finally straightening up with what she prayed was a thankful smile (it was more of a grimace).
Her face promptly turned beat red.
He was so Hot.
After a moment of staring like some sort of nutcase, Jemma blurted out, "T-thank you so much for grabbing him!"
The smile he sent her made her knees feel like jelly. Amusement sparkled in his dark blue eyes, "Always a privilege to help a pretty girl out."
Jemma's heart pumped hard and fast. She bit her lip in an attempt to hide the smile that threatened to split her face in two. It had been a while since someone had treated her so nice, less so called her pretty. And he was a stranger! A very attractive one, too.
"U-um… My Jemma name is… Wait." She wanted to kick herself. Had she forgotten how to human? "My name is Jemma!" was her hurried correction.
The stranger laughed outright, showing off pearly white teeth. Pookah barked, wiggling around in the man's arms. "Oh right, here… I think this is yours…" he took a step closer, intent on giving the dog back to its rightful owner.
Jemma took the ball of fluff and fury, a dreamy smile on her face. Their hands brushed and for a moment and she found herself suspended in the moment. It was perfect.
A new feeling swelled in her chest, flickering and combusting into a roaring inferno.
"My hero." She crooned, a smirk rising on one side of her lips.
Too soon, he pulled away, taking with him the smell of leather and probably some super expensive cologne. The stranger let out a chuckle. His large hand raked through his inky black hair back into its perfectly brushed-back position.
"My name is Samuel."
Maybe outside wasn't as bad as she had thought.
My arms pumped at my sides, one hand clutching onto the stick of dango I had stolen. I ran away from Itachi, cackling like a maniac recently freed from a mental institute.
It was a bright, sunny and clear day—not a single cloud in sight. Many people were out, embracing the warmth after the long chilling winter.
The wind carried a cool, lazy breeze, and with it, the scent of lavender and freshly cut grass. It was just what the doctor ordered: fresh air.
Being cooped up in the house had almost driven me (completely) insane.
"All of your smarts are worth nothing if you can't run fast enough to keep up, Tachi!" I teased, turning my head back long enough to stick my tongue out at my silently fuming best friend.
These were the days I loved.
Papa and his team were off for three more days since recently returning from a taxing mission. It must have been bad, too. Normally bright blue eyes were clouded with a heavy emotion that looked foreign on the usually joyful blonde man's face.
He put on a good front when facing others, but I could tell something was bothering him.
My answer to treating him? Make his heart melt by the combination of Itachi and mine's overwhelming cuteness. The fact it helped my mom was just an added bonus.
Whenever Papa left for an extended amount of time, mom became one stressed-out squirrel. So much so, it made the woman go into her infamous 'super-cook-mode.'
The outcome of such a state was tons of extra (delicious) food that our three-strong family had no hope of eating on our own. Especially when the biggest of us was gone. So, I came up with the idea to get rid of the extra food by having a picnic.
What better way to make food disappear than to have two growing teenage boys around? It was a wonderful idea, if I said so myself. Anything having to do with food and being surrounded by my favorite people was always a great idea.
I had been so excited about the prospect of a picnic; I had bodily pulled mom with me to Itachi's house in order to invite him along. He had agreed immediately, telling his mom where we were going and escaping.
A decision Itachi had to be regretting as I expertly stayed just out of his reach, his last stick of dango in hand. As extra incentive, I haphazardly swung my arms around in an attempt to make him nervous.
How terrible it would be to have done so much chasing, only for the delicious treat to fall victim to the dirty grass?
I giggled maniacally.
Being the faster between us, I took advantage of it as much as I could. Beautiful payback for Itachi always beating her when throwing kunai. I chanced another look over my shoulder for the millionth time to witness the overly-determined expression on Itachi's face.
He was just so adorable when he made that expression!
"Come on, Tachi, you gotta try harder than tha-AHH!" my foot caught on a protruding rock (that looked suspiciously doggo shaped—that thrice damned Kakashi!) sending me face-first into the grass with a off.
(On my way down to the unforgiving ground, a sharp intake of air sounded behind me, coming from the black-haired prodigy. The dango disappeared from my hand in a speeding blur.)
Moaning, I sat up, spitting grass and the taste of dirt from my mouth. "bleh!" my spine cracked as I turned to my 'best friend', hand rubbing under my sore nose, eyes narrowed and promising pain. He stood a safe distance away, casually munching on his saved treat.
"What kind of person allows their friends to eat dirt?" I accused; my voice deceptively calm.
Itachi's gaze was serious, no hint of regret in those ebony depths. If anything, he looked amused. "You took my food." He countered with a shrug.
I huffed out my irritation, accepting his half-ass excuse. Food was life. Carefully wiping the rest of the dirt from my cheeks, I turned my blazing gaze instead to Kakashi.
The silver-haired teen stared back evenly with heavy-lidded dark-gray eyes. "I don't know what you're talking about." He turned away, mumbling something that sounded suspiciously like "and I already am."
"Oh, you know very well what! That cute puppy rock didn't just appear out of nowhere." I accused, pointing threateningly to him.
Rin, who sat gracefully between Kakashi and Obito, waved her hands dramatically in an effort to calm the upcoming tantrum brewing. "I'm sure Kakashi didn't do anything, Akira."
"Yeah right," Obito interjected after gaping at his female teammate, "I'm with Akira on this one. Kakashi is bastard enough to-OW!" a hand came out from seemingly nowhere and karate-chopped the Uchiha's head. "What the hell was that for?"
Attached to said hand was an angry redhead, tendrils of fiery hair swaying above her head like dangerous tentacles. "Watch your language around the children, 'ttebane!" mom hissed back, once again hitting him on the head as if the action would make her words stick by sheer force alone.
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry! Have mercy!" Obito yowled out with his hand held protectively over his head, pain-filled tears leaking from the sides of his eyes.
I ran to them, expression worried, not liking that someone else was picking on my Obito. Plopping myself onto his lap, I wrapped my arms protectively around his neck. "Don't hurt Obito-nii-chan, mom! You'll make him lose even more brain cells!" I sniffled, "It's not his fault he's an idiot…"
"Hey!"
"Shh," I reached a small hand to rub circles over his abused skull, voice morose, "You just need to accept it."
His shoulders slumped, dejected.
"Shh," her tiny hand reached up to rub circles on his head, "You just need to accept it."
His shoulders slumped, dejected.
I hummed blissfully to myself as I walked along the streets of Konoha. Alone. If I tried not to think about how close I was to the ground, I could almost convince myself I was an adult again! Oh, the independence~
After what felt like hours, I had somehow convinced my parents to allow me to walk to Itachi's house by my lonesome. The freedom I felt was, well, freeing.
Since I had been attacked all of those months ago—was that really a year ago?—they never let me go anywhere by myself. I was convinced they stood outside of the goddamn bathroom. Whenever I opened the door no one would be there, but the feeling still haunted me. It made pooping extremely awkward.
What's even worse was sometimes they would hire Genin teams to take me places—it was ridiculous. There were tons of children my age that could run around the village to their hearts content during the day.
Minato and Kushina were being overprotective. Even if there was a war going on. They usually stuck to me like glue, so I wasn't going to let this rare moment of beautiful self-sufficiency slip away without milking it until it fuckin' mooed.
The village was bustling and alive in a combination of smells and sounds. I inhaled deeply, enjoying the exotic scents of Konoha. They never got old. Frying meat from a food stand, sweet herbs from a tea shop and fresh breads from a bakery.
It was the comforting smells of home.
As I was about to pass the bakery, I slowed my pace. Since this was my first time out alone, I should get a victory snack in celebration. Obviously.
I walked in and stared at the assortments of baked breads, sweet rolls and desserts. Mouth instantaneously watering, I pulled out my pocket purse (it was gray with cute chibi kittens on it—my late birthday gift from Obito) and counted my meager amount of money.
Instantly I slumped.
There was only enough for two things, three if I settled for the cheaper snacks.
"Hello, little girl. What brings you here?"
'What else would I be in here for?' I fought not to roll my eyes. 'Don't want the villagers hating me.' An idea came to me. A completely devious idea. My kind of idea.
I smiled despite my inner monologue, "To celebrate!" I exclaimed, voice baby-like and high, putting on my biggest, brightest smile. The one I normally saved for Minato when I wanted something.
The man, tall and muscular with salt-and-peppered hair and a mustache, bellowed out a laugh. "And what is it you're celebrating?"
I raised a fist in the air and pumped it, "Freedom, my good sir!"
"Oh?"
"Mm! My Papa let me walk to my best-est friend in the whole wide world's house all by myself." I crossed my arms and did my best to look proud. Which, with how I felt, wasn't that hard.
Minato was an Unmovable Force when he really wanted to be.
"Well, that's reason to celebrate in my eyes. Tell me, what would you like? I'll even give you a little discount." He winked.
I mentally smirked. Now I could get four.
As I went back on my way, dango and taiyaki secured, I allowed a moment to laugh evilly to myself.
Today the bakery; tomorrow the world.
The paper bag filled with goods was totally worth acting like a complete dolt. If this was how it would be every time I was able to walk alone, I might as well begin carrying around props to make myself seem even more unassuming.
Imagine all of the discounts I could get while holding a giant plushy?
Up ahead I couldn't help but notice three kids glaring my way as they pushed themselves off a store wall. Man, those were some nasty looks on their faces.
They spoke lowly to each other as they walked in my direction, eyes staring a hole through my little form. From this distance, they looked to be around eleven or twelve.
It made me hesitate for only a millisecond before continuing on my way. They didn't scare me one bit. (In all honesty, nothing did. It made things boring at times.) Sure, there were times I had felt true terror, like when I was attacked, but these punks were nothing compared to that.
—Blood—smile stretched—blank eyes—
I shook my head. That time had passed. I needed to focus on the now.
Suddenly I felt uncomfortable. As if there were unseen hands grasping painfully sharp claws into my shoulders and pushing me down, down, down—Ugh!
So what if they were taller and (undoubtedly) stronger? Nothing would ruin this day for me, Gods dammit! Their malicious intent meant nothing to me.
The chances of being murdered with shinobi jumping all around on their squirrely business was very slim. Even if the elder ninja looked to be going on their way with a single-minded intensity, I knew they were always alert to their surroundings.
As if sensing the hostility, on-goers parted like the Red Sea. Sickeningly, some paused, eyes curious and hungry to know what was going on. I didn't even know what was going on. A few had a glint in their eye, as if they wanted nothing more than to see me smeared across the dusty ground.
It disgusted and confused me. Not to sound like a spoiled prat, but didn't they know who my father was?
As I went to pass the children, the nearest boy, obviously an Uchiha with the symbol stitched on his sleeves and high-collared shirt, bumped a shoulder harshly into mine, sending me to the ground.
During my fall, I made extra sure to protect The Goods. Half-priced sweets were hard to come by in this world, what with the prices of flour being so high.
When Minato became Hokage, I'd have to convince him to find a place who dealt with flour to start trade with. Since it was a combustible substance, most businesses refused to trade it over long distances without shinobi around to protect them—and ninja protection was costly.
"Watch where you're going, twerp." The boy spat; a shit-eating grin on his otherwise decent face. Sigh. Leave it to the cute ones to be rotten on the inside.
I looked up to him in barely concealed distaste. The way he was—literally—looking down on me made me want to gouge his pretty eyes out. They were like Itachi's, yet lacked the intelligence and familiar warmth.
"You're the one that bumped into me, ya fungus." I shot back from my spot on the ground. What were these kids' issues?... Other than King Douche being an Uchiha.
The other two, one a girl and another boy, circled around. Taking a deep breath, I slowly stood, head turning in an attempt to follow all of their movements.
Great. I'm not even in the academy and I'm being bullied.
That thought gave me pause. Did I want to go to the academy? To become a ninja of the Leaf—willing to lay down my life in order to protect it? I mean, I always assumed I would be a ninja, but didn't I have a choice?
I never held the village in high regards, after all. Both in reality and whilst watching the anime. In the show, they treated Naruto—my future baby brother—like complete trash. They made him feel unwanted. Treated him like a monster.
He needed to be strong and save all of their lives in order to gain their love and attention. Hell, some of the people in the place physically hurt him.
An innocent child.
On the other hand, my father was going to be the future fuckin' Hokage; no matter how brief. The village was a place he loved enough to die for. Shouldn't that be enough to warrant my own devotion? To spark some sort of burning desire to defend the place my current body was born in?
It was definitely something to bookmark for a later date.
A force shoved me forward, electing a squawk of surprise from me—embarrassing. Lost in thought, I had forgotten about the bullying assholes. I really needed to work on my situational awareness…
They laughed as one as I stumbled to my hands and knees. The bag fell to the ground, caged carefully between my limbs.
Anger burned away the stinging pain in my scratched palms. I got those at a discount! And they would be stomped on for what reason? Because I had been there? Why was no one helping me? These kids were double my age—someone should be saving me.
The original offender spoke up, voice nasally, "Pathetic. I don't get what he sees in a wimp like you."
"Yeah. She's not even pretty."
"Pretty ugly if you ask me. Just look at those weird marks on her face!"
Taking another calming breath, I stood again. Straightening my spine up and turning to the girl, I carefully snuffed out the igniting match striking in my belly.
Shame, anger—what was wrong with my whisker marks? I thought they were cute. Especially when I'd have a little brother with the same markings.
One hand held tight to my Precious, the other found purchase on my hip. I flipped my hair away from my face. "If you think calling me ugly and a wimp will send me home crying, you got another thing coming, girlfriend."
The girl had brown eyes and black hair, similar to the second boy. Related, if I had to guess. There was no distinguishing who was older, but they definitely had the same parents.
Around us, most of those who paused shuffled along. Others outright watched.
Again, why would I want to save a place that treated each other like this? Here I was, a child, being bullied and they just stood there and stared. Like vultures waiting for the remains of a bunny torn apart by wolves.
Konoha was supposed to be filled with hippy tree huggers. This wasn't fucking Kiri—or the Village Hidden in the Mist.
"We don't care if you're crying or not, so long as you stay away from Itachi-sama." One of the siblings growled. It was hard to tell which voice came from whom. They both sounded like prepubescent little boys.
"I bet he only hangs around her because she's so stupid."
"You don't deserve to be around someone as prestigious as Itachi-sama."
At the second mention of my besties name, my hackles raised. So, that was who the 'he' was. I was being bullied over being a Clan heir's (best) friend. Perfect.
The thing, though, was they were right. I wasn't worthy of being Itachi's friend. He was strong, noble and kind while I was a child killer. A body snatcher. (Ishouldn'texist).
A sad smile raised on my lips. "I agree. I don't deserve his friendship." My words shocked the three stooges. It was true. Itachi was too nice, too pure—but… My saddened expression morphed into a cocky smile that didn't reach my eyes. "He chose me to stand beside him. Moreover, until he tells me different, that's where I will stay.
Now. Get the hell out of my way. You've made me late enough as is."
"You- Grab her arms!"
They came onto me as a group. I tried getting away, pushing and kicking against their grabbing hands as Itachi taught me, but was all in vain. They were bigger, stronger, faster.
I tossed the bag to the side, hoping they wouldn't take too much notice of it and crush it out of spite.
After a short scuffle, the siblings held my arms, one on each side, forcing me down to my knees.
"We'll teach you your place, Clanless scum!" The black-haired boy screamed, face red and blotchy.
The first hit was a kick to my stomach. It made me gag and cry out in pain. Somehow, I kept down the vomit that attempted to force itself up.
They all laughed when the boy next landed a solid punch my face. If I were in my old body, I was sure my cheekbone would have fractured in a million bone-shards.
It was then I realized how much Itachi had been holding back our first meeting. He had made me bleed, but it was in retaliation, not malice. There was also the fact this boy was older, thus bigger. He hit hard. Stars spun in my eyes.
Yet I refused to cry, even with the tears already burning behind my eyes. I put all of my pain and hate and manifested it into the fiercest glare possible, pointed directly at King Douche. I wished it would light him on fire or poison him via osmosis.
A nasty part of me wished they would all drop dead.
"Hey!" a voice called out, giving the bullies pause.
Three figures dropped from a nearby roof as one unit. As if he were an angel from the heavens, Obito took a threatening step forward, fists clenched—my oppressive rage drained out of me like a fresh breath of air.
I could've sworn he had a halo over his head.
"How about you pick on someone your own size!" Obito threatened, making Uchiha D-Bag Squad (UDB Squad?) collectively flinch.
"Um," Rin spoke up, waving her hands as she normally did when trying to be annoying—I mean—defuse the situation, "let's not resort to violence… Please, let her go. We don't want any trouble-"
"Are you kidding!?" I barked, voice bordering on hysterical, "'let's not resort to violence'—There already was violence, 'ttebane! They were hitting me! Kick their asses!"
Only Kakashi spared a look my way, eyebrow cocked inquisitively. As if I needed him judging me for using 'grown-up' words.
"We don't have to listen to you!" the male sibling scoffed, completely ignoring me.
"Yeah. You're just a weak girl playing dress up." The head-douche commented nastily.
I shrugged, kind of agreeing with the D-Squad.
What!? It wasn't like he was wrong. Rin wasn't anything special. The only thing she had going for her was her slightly more advanced medical abilities and strong teammates.
Other than that, she was an average fighter and her clones were sub-par.
How she passed the academy as the top kunoichi was something that astounded me.
The siblings let go of me, but not without shoving me to the ground one last time. My hands, again, scraped against the sharp gravel, digging pebbles further into the softness of my palms.
"Seriously!?"
Obito bristled, "That's it!" Yes. Avenge me, Obito! "You say sorry to Rin right now!" The elder Uchiha yelled, voice echoing against the surrounding walls.
I slapped my forehead with a low groan.
"Or what?" the three of them said as one.
Obito crossed his arms and smirked. "Or I'll tell all of your parents what you were doing. Do ya think they'll be happy to hear you were picking on a toddler?"
Oh. Well. It was nice to know he hadn't completely forgotten about me. He was just actively ignoring the original issue!
And that was how the next few minutes were spent. The UDB Squad apologizing to Rin and groveling at her feet. They even went as far as to bow to the girl while she stood there rubbing the back of her neck.
I stood off to the side with Kakashi, not so silently brewing in anger. "What the hell? I was the one bullied. They should be kissing my feet." As I spoke, my hands burned painfully and my stomach felt two minutes from exploding out of my mouth like a geyser, and my cheek throbbed.
There would definitely be a lot of bruising. By this time tomorrow, I'd look like an abused apple.
Ugh. I hate preteens.
The silver-haired ninja let out a sigh, shoulders lifting in a small shrug. "He's a short-sighted idiot. What else did you expect?" he glanced down at me in understanding that lasted for a second before it turned concerned (as concerned as Kakashi could look, at least). "You're hurt." He pointed out.
Gods, I was going to explode from sheer rage. I gave him a nasty look, "Wow, aren't you just the most observant doofus on your team. Heal me now or I'll tell my mom that you did it."
Kakashi noticeably paled. "Hey Rin?" he called out to his teammate, "Akira has some scrapes and bruises you should check out." His voice came out higher than normal and cracked, making him clear his throat at the end of his plea. Ah, the beauty of having a terrifying mother.
As soon as the words were stated, said brunette gasped and quickly made her way to me, worry in her doe brown eyes.
Wait is that a—I didn't see her walk up to me, my mind was much too interested with how different Kakashi looked blushing. It was like a car crash. I couldn't look away.
It was such an innocent thing, really. The way dilated blood vessels on someone's face reacting to excess adrenaline being pumped through them.
"Let me see."
I extended my hands blindly.
Facial vessels were especially sensitive, which was why a person's entire body doesn't turn red (imagine how funny that would look). When antiseptic was placed on the cuts, I cringed.
The pain took me out of whatever trance I had been in, making me turn a glare to the dead-weight of team Minato. Maybe I would start calling her DW.
"Ow, ow ow, OWWW." I wined, electing a stern glance from the medic.
Honestly, it didn't hurt that bad—I've felt worse. Just stung a bit. But in my younger mind, she took the spotlight of Obito's attention away from me, so it was well deserved.
If it wasn't obvious as of yet, I didn't much care for the girl. The quicker she died, the happier I would be. That means Obito would have to be taken away sooner. I pushed that thought aside violently.
"I'll heal you fully later. We need to get you to Itachi's house and debrief Minato-sensei so we can go on our next mission." She babbled, finishing wrapping up the bandages on my hands.
Should have known Minato wouldn't let me do something on my own. I sneered, nodding my head and testing how much I could move my hands. A bit stiff but not too bad. The bandages were actually rather soft.
Of course they wouldn't trust me enough to go on my own.
.
.
.
"What happened to you?" Were Itachi's blurted first words to me when he answered the door.
I was too busy staring a hole into a nearby tree, totally not brooding.
"Hello to you too, 'Tachi. I'm doing fine, how about you?" I teased back lightly, trying to get his attention off my battle wounds (as if being bullied was a battle. It was totally one sided and shitty; no matter how optimistically I looked at it).
With a shake of my head, I turned to regard Itachi fully. Carefully. As I would a ticking time bomb.
He stared at me blankly in the way he knew made me uncomfortable. All vacant and weird. He looked so much like one of those porcelain dolls my old mother used to collect.
I shivered. Creepy.
They always gave me a distinct Annabelle vibe. Enough to keep me awake most nights, especially after watching the move.
My will to keep my lips sealed crumbled under his intense gaze. "Fine. Some kids pushed me around a bit. It's no big deal. Really." Just drop it, I pleaded silently.
Embarrassment flooded my face red while I kicked at the ground lamely, knocking a small rock with the tip of my sandal. Admitting to being picked on was so lame. I should have been able to fight back! Kick that black-haired jerk on his ass and laugh. My fists clenched.
"They hurt you. Why?" It was more of an order than a question.
I scoffed, "Because I'm your friend or whatever. Apparently, being from a dead Clan and befriending an Heir isn't looked upon in the greatest light. It's fine, though. Just a little bruised and some scrapes—nothing serious."
Although I was in the world of an anime, I was in one where the universe was completely unfair. Here, just because someone picked on me didn't mean I could somehow turn into my mother and kick their asses.
I was basically a baby at this point. I felt like Cas with no powers.
Don't get me wrong, I 'trained' with Itachi, hell I even excelled in a couple areas, but those kids were just too big and experienced. This body was strong, as were the others of this world, yet not enough to fight someone that much bigger than me.
I was just too tiny. Too untrained in fighting a larger target.
Ever see a five-year-old kick a group of trained twelve-year-old's asses? Nope.
Even Itachi could lay out an ass beating at my age. Though I was older physically (and mentally, in ways), he was just too advanced. Compared to everyone around me, I paled in comparison. I was practically civilian.
What if he realized that and became ashamed of our friendship? Did he think I was weak? Or, even worse, did he think he was too good for me? That thought alone sent a shock of fear zipping through me.
He was my only friend. If I didn't have him, I would be alone.
I looked up, anxious when moments passed with him saying nothing—immediately I took a faltering step back. Itachi's normally serene face was twisted in what I could only discern as complete fury. In his deep onyx eyes laid the promise of swift, righteous, pain.
"Who?" his voice was deeper than what was normal for him. A strange feeling slithered its way up my chest and settled.
Mentally, I stumbled.
Had any of them mentioned their names? I shook my head, "They never said. Just an older group made up of some black-haired douche and two siblings; one boy and one girl. Both had brown hair."
After a slight nod, the expression of anger evaporated, making my apprehensive spine loosen a bit. I scratched the back of my head. "Geeze, 'Tachi. Have you been tested for being bi-polar?"
"No." was his simple answer. He pointed to the slightly crumpled bag held in my hands. "What is that?"
A sly smile spread over my face as the tense moment fully evaporated. I hadn't even noticed when team Papa ran off to debrief, but they were nowhere to be seen. I opened the bag and stuck my hand in, pulling out and showing off his two sticks of dango like a magician pulling a bunny out of his hat. "A feast!"
Itachi cracked a small smile, expression fond. It made any pain lingering from getting my ass thoroughly kicked disappear like magic. I pulled out my taiyaki
Weeks passed when mom and Papa sat me down at the dining table.
It was a normal day, much like all of the others. Being a child sucked that way. Nothing exciting ever really happened. Unless I went over Itachi's or spent time with team Minato, my days were monotonous.
The second I tried to avoid. Partially because I wanted to pop out Rin's doe brown eyes—which was normal.
Both parental's matching serious expressions were on me. Every now and then, their eyes shifted to each other, then back. Neither looked upset, per-say, so I wasn't in court to plea my case. Yet, they wouldn't speak up. It was getting increasingly annoying.
As if sensing my impatience, Minato broke the tense silence, slowly, cautiously… Suspiciously. "You're five-years-old now."
I raised my eyebrows. Not what I was expecting. "Yep." I drawled, adding extra emphasis on the p sound, "I'm well aware."
He backtracked, "I- I mean—You are five-years-old now—and very um… Mature for your age…" he trailed off, diverting his eyes to the floor as if it would either swallow him whole or speak for him. Couldn't tell which.
Regardless, my eyebrows raised higher. At this rate, the blonde bundles of hairs would reach the Gods.
I was mature? What was this? What direction was he trying to bring this conversation? I swear on all things holy—If I heard the words 'vagina' or 'penis' I was fuckin' out.
Out of the room, out of the village, out of this existence.
The last thing I wanted was my achingly awkward father and blushing mother explaining the concept of sex to me. I'd die of second-hand embarrassment. My face would never revert to its original coloring, forever stained like a firetruck.
I wasn't even old enough for 'the talk'!
"What your father is trying to say," Kushina swooped in helpfully, placing a hand on Minato's slumped shoulders, "—is that you are becoming more and more independent. We think it is about time to stop… well, babying you. You have proved to us that you are more than able to go off on your own. So…"
"We are going on a two-day mission!" Minato exclaimed suddenly with an intense, wild look in his sky-blue eyes. The abrupt disruption made me jump.
T-the fuck? God, these people were so damn weird… Wait. "You're going to let your five-year-old fend for herself for two days?" I confirmed monotonously.
Kushina's cheeks flushed. "Um, no."
I let out a sigh of relief. "Thank goodness." For a moment there, I thought they were going to do a complete 180 and become terrible parents. Glad my fears weren't founded.
Minato spoke up next, this time more poised. "Mikoto has agreed to let you stay at their house while we are gone—"
I interrupted, hand slapping on the tabletop. "I get to spend two days with the Uchiha? WOO, PARTY!" My body, overcome with resonating excitement, shook.
To expel some of the energy, I began dancing in my chair. I swear there were stars and flowers spinning around my head from the corner of my eyes.
This would be my very first sleep over ever. And, even better, it is with Itachi. Two whole days with one of my favorite pretty-boys? It was going to be so much fun! I wanted to yodel to the sky.
"NO!" The sky crashed around me,"We expect you to be on your best behavior. When Mikoto or Fugaku tell you to do something, you do it. Without any sass." Kushina added in the last part hastily.
I waved my hand flippantly, "Listen to 'Gaku and no sass, gottcha. Hear ya loud and clear."
Mom sent me a look of disappointment. "I'm being serious, Akira. The Uchiha have been very generous allowing you stay over."
I paused mid victory dance and give her and Papa a reassuring smile. "I'll behave myself; I swear. I'm just really excited to have a slumber party with Itachi, 'ttebane."
They smiled back. Minato walked over to me and collected me in his arms bawling about how I was growing up too fast and how he would soon have to bat away boys with kunai.
Internally I thought of all the ways I could make 'Gaku uncomfortable.
Yes… This would be great.
.
.
.
I walked up to the Uchiha household with extra pep to my step. My sharp movements caused the dangling kitty chain decorations on my backpack to click together.
Kushina, as usual, was fretting behind me. "Did you remember your toothbrush?"
"For the hundredth time, yes." I was exhausted with the ongoing conversation. True to their character, The Parental's made quite the spectacle this morning.
At first, it had been adorable. Nice. Not many kids had the privilege of having even one parent care enough to cause such a scene.
As a matter of fact, I had come to find out a lot, if not most, children in the village resided in orphanages. It made since, I guessed.
We lived in a village where ninja, while the minority, had kids at earlier ages. Add that to the hundreds dying from the War and well… Too many people were dying. It just so happened that the dead left children.
All of that said; Kushina was coming off as completely overbearing. It made my inner adult want to pull her hair out and scream. The only thing that stopped me was the fact I wasn't an adult anymore and that type of behavior would get me into some serious trouble.
Hell hath no fury like a mother sassed. Think not leaving the house for months with no toys. I was a kid now and would just have to deal with it.
My footsteps hurried as we walked around the last corner to make it to the Uchiha's home. "We're almost there, come on!"
Kushina chuckled as I turned to grab her hand and pull her along behind me.
…
END
A/N: Welp. Originally I was going to just brush over Akira's childhood, hitting only at the main points buuuuut decided it would be best for the story to actually explain it. Which means I've had to add to my already lengthy intro to the character by showing her interactions with other characters, blah blah blah. So there are a few more scenes before we get into the good (painful) stuff. AND bc I'm extra lazy, there is only a poem instead of song.
Which do you guys like more? The song lyrics through the chapter, or poem/lyrics at the beginning only?
As always, please review (helps me get these out faster) to feed my lil ego, fav to make me feel better and follow to get emails when I update this fic!
Have a lovely weekend. -3-