Warning: Forced reliving of trauma.
(ps. Trigger warning for that song if you happen to look it up (which I suggest bc I feel like it lines up well with where Akira's character is going.)
I battle with depression, but the question still remains
Is this post-traumatic stressing or am I suppressing rage?
And my doctor tries to tell me that I'm going through a phase
Yeah, it's not a fucking phase, I just wanna feel okay, okay?
Yeah, I struggle with this bullshit every day
And it's probably 'cause my demons simultaneously rage
It obliterates me, disintegrates me, annihilates me
Chapter 11: Remembrance-No-Jutsu
"Don't you think fourteen laps is a little excessive?" Itachi asked as he kept pace beside Akira, his breathing showing signs of becoming labored.
Akira stared determinedly ahead, steadily forcing herself to focus on the beating of her heart against her chest and the soreness spreading through her muscles.
It took an embarrassingly long amount of time to realize that, yes, Itachi asked her a question and yes, he expected an answer.
"Just one more lap." She replied breathlessly, pushing herself to go further.
Faster.
Their sandals made light rhythmic taps against the packed track that wrapped around training ground three. The sun shone down relentlessly on her back and shoulders, irritating the scars hidden beneath the bandages wound down to her wrists.
Ironically, she looked more like Danzo than she would care to admit. Sadly, it was the only way she could think of to cover the few bite marks on her forearms that refused to heal completely. Not without spending money she didn't have to spend on new clothing.
All of the other scars were hidden easily under her plain black shirts and shorts.
For reasons unknown, her ability to heal wounds thanks to the Nine-Tails didn't include the terrible reminder of her time outside the village. The nurses said they were fading, just at a 'human' rate. Akira called bullshit.
It had been five months since her return and she wasn't going to get herself into the same position twice. She was sick and tired of running away from monsters in her dreams.
Now when she ran, she did so for herself; not to escape three demented ninjas.
There wasn't any guarantee it'd never happen again. Hell, it wasn't supposed to happen the first fucking time. Even the Hokage was at a loss as to how she could have been plucked from the village so easily.
The ANBU guarding her that night was dead: head smashed thoroughly enough where even the Yamanaka couldn't gain any intelligence. The entire situation reeked.
How else had the three idiots been able to find her? Sure, her existence wasn't the huge Secret the Hokage pretended. After all, the daughter of the Fourth Hokage was public knowledge on its own.
At the risk of sounding paranoid—which she was—It stunk of an inside job. Danzo coming to her after the fact cemented her suspicion. The Hokage was a leak to the most immediate threat to her health inside the village. What was even worse was that the old man couldn't even recognize the snake right under his nose.
Akira was right back where she started at the beginning of this entire mess: Alone.
Left to pick up and put back the fragile pieces of her mind. Not even Itachi at her side made her feel safe. Nowhere was safe in this disgusting world, doubly so for jinjuriki.
So, Akira did the only thing she could. She threw herself into training. The fact stood that if no one else could keep her or brother safe, she would have to do it on her own.
She would hone herself into the weapon they all thought and wanted her to be and crush anyone in her way. If nothing else but to keep Naruto from the same fate.
A hand grasped onto her shoulder and instantly her heart beat faster. Akira came to a sudden stop, wild violet eyes meeting with concerned black. She fought her first instinct to send him to the ground and break his wrist.
They both stood there for a moment, Akira breathing erratically and Itachi taking deep, even breaths. "We're done." he stated.
"But-"
"Akira," he stressed, "we finished the last lap six laps ago. We are done, and I have to go meet with Shisui Clan training."
Of course. Akira looked away, jerking her shoulder out from under his grasp. His arm fell to his side helplessly. "Sure. I'll see you in class tomorrow."
The Uchiha Heir looked as if he wanted to say more, but nothing came out. It was answer enough.
Akira walked away.
When she glanced back, he was gone. She smiled bitterly to herself and continued running. 'No rest for the wicked, am I right?'
"I wouldn't call you wicked. More like an evil midget."
Akira paused, face scrunching peculiarly. 'Evil is synonymous with wickedness. And I am not a midget. I'm a child.'
"You'll be dead once this seal is broken!" Kurama boomed, causing the girl to cringe.
As if she even wanted him. At that point she'd be happy if he refrained from commenting on every fucking thought she had.
In his mind, if he annoyed her enough, she would go berserk and unleash him. It was kind of painful how unaware he was of humans. Decades of being trapped in them, and he still had no idea how they worked.
Unfortunately for him, she wasn't truly a child. Her patience knew no bounds when it came to his sass. If anything, sometimes it was kind of funny.
Akira's eyes flickered back and forth as she read through the scroll in her hands, jotting down notes so detailed her ancestors would be weep. Kushina's own notes written with neat strokes in the margins of the parchment were a great help. Her heart ached with longing but Akira forcefully pushed it down.
Kaname-sensei's voice droned on in the background. A voice so monotonous and dull that it didn't take much effort to tune it out. He was setting up a math equation about two ninjas traveling at certain speeds and how to determine how long it would take for them to collide.
Pretty intense shit for a bunch of children, but she accepted long ago how different her old schooling was compared to this world. They were training tiny murderers, not pathetic little civilians.
Thus, the class learned things more catered toward combat and murder than, say, a civilian learning crop yield—not that that wouldn't come up in one of their missions. Infiltrators tended to be jacks of all trade.
The curriculum focused on the bare minimum parts of their education. Not too much was taught besides propaganda in order to keep them moldable. All crammed it into as few years as possible.
Thankfully, Akira wasn't truly an 8-year-old. Everything they were learning; she basically already knew. The only things she struggled with were history and geography. Even then, the information was absorbed like a sponge.
Academically she was top dog (if she didn't think about how terrible she was at learning kata it didn't have to exist).
Knowledge would be another tool for her to utilize. A stepping stood to her future of not dying again. And when you're going to be a future tool of mass destruction, there were many fucking ways to die early.
Which was why Akira rarely fully paid attention in class. It wasn't as important compared to her studies in Fūinjutsu—or sealing techniques.
Akira wasn't sure if it was her adult brain shining through, or some genetic magic from being an Uzumaki, but the art of sealing was a subject she truly exceled. For reasons unknown to her, it just made sense.
Like another language based in part of the understanding of basic symbols and, for her, an instinctual feeling. It reminded her vaguely of the night she spread her chakra out to find where her parents would die, but not quite.
Akira flipped the pages of her notebook to a mock-explosion seal she made the other night. She created it specifically to not go off.
Her fingertips traced over the ink and static filled her mind. Something not quite a whisper pulled at the back of her mind as she read each symbol.
Fire, Wind, Spark, and Combust. Usually there would be a link between the symbols that reacts to the amount of chakra the user adds into it, but she left it blank.
A basic one-layer seal. Easy to recreate if you knew what you were doing and had a very intricate attention to detail. Sealing was parts artistic and mathematical. Even the slightest stroke could mean something different.
Multilayered seals were more difficult to pick apart, as she needed chakra to sense it out. Which she doesn't have fully under control yet. A work in progress from the whole having a chakra demon construct chilling in her body.
Kushina wrote down that the readers chakra needed to be completely neutral in order not to trigger a trap and possibly blow everything to hell.
Akira wasn't quite there yet. Her mother's old chakra exercises helped more than the ones taught at the academy, but her chakra reserves felt like a damn blackhole.
How was she supposed to take out a dropper's worth of chakra when she had an ocean worth constantly churning? No one had her problem but her mother and, unfortunately, Akira had fucking killed her.
The only time her chakra had almost run out was when she was kidnapped. Four months without sufficient food or sleep, along with being bit repeatedly like some chew toy had almost drained her empty.
So lost in her thoughts, Akira didn't hear the teacher calling her name until he was screaming it.
"Akira!"
The blonde jumped, voice coming out in a squeak, "Yes, Kaname-sensei?"
He didn't look impressed, nor happy. But truly, when was the last time someone looked her way without a spark of anger and fear behind their eyes and in their scent?
"Have you been paying attention?" Kaname snaps impatiently, arms crossing.
She met his gaze an lied through her teeth (lying was becoming a terrible habit of hers as of late). "Yes."
(Across the room, Itachi face-palms.)
The entirely unimpressed glare he sent speaks volumes, yet he voices them anyway. "Really. I couldn't tell from your interruptive mumblings."
Akira flushed a bright red, sinking low in her seat. The class breaks into whispers.
Kaname turned to the chalkboard and writes down some equations. "Since you've been paying such close attention, come up to the board and answer questions one through five. Show your work."
After quickly throwing her notes and scrolls into her bag for safety, Akira walked to the front of the class sullenly, doing her best to ignore her classmates giggling and Kaname's overly smug grin.
With a steely gaze, she snatched a stick of chalk and worked through each equation quickly and efficiently. As told, she shows her work in excruciating detail.
By the time she was done with question five, all is silent. Akira lowered her hand and turned expectantly to her teacher, eyes half-mast. "All done. Can I sit back down now?"
Kaname takes his time looking back and forth from his answer key to the board, face slack. "All correct..." he shook his head, as if to rid an unpleasant thought.
'Yeah. Take that.' She thinks acidly.
Erratically he erased the board quickly and wrote down another problem, this one more advanced. Even the year above theirs hadn't learnt it yet. She would know. She already read ahead two years of the academy's curriculum.
Yet again Kaname was sneering at her in barely contained disdain. He smelt strongly of cigarette cloves.
With clenched teeth and hardly pushed down the anger at being underestimated, Akira turned back to the board. The soft taps of the chalk meeting with the board filled the empty silence in the room.
When finished, she threw the chalk into the metal holder and stalked back to her seat without permission. Whispers broke out but she ignores them, instead going back to her scrolls and continues where she left off.
.
.
.
Lunch was uneventful, and for that Akira was thankful. Itachi and her were sitting in easy silence as their fellow students gossiped amongst themselves.
Her attention was caught by two girl who sat three seats ahead of them—what were their names? Emiko and Gina? Or was it Fumiko and Nina…
"Did you hear about Kiri? One of the students slaughtered his classmates during their genin exams!" Fumiko (?) whispered loudly.
Maybe-Nina shivered, "So scary!"
"They're calling him the Demon of the Hidden Mist."
Nina glanced back to Akira and leaned in close to her friend, a nasty smile on her glossed lips, "I wonder how he would deal with ours. Imagine it: a demon versus a monster."
They sniggered.
Akira ignored that last part and elbowed her best friend's arm. He looked a little out of it. "Can you imagine that?" She asked, "Our exams look like child splay compared to that."
"Hn."
"Just imagine how many students, including those with clan techniques, he had to kill just to pass."
Itachi looked nervous. "Speaking of passing…"
Akira gave him a flat stare, her voice the same when she spoke, "You gonna kill me when we have our genin exams?" She drawled.
"What? No."
She leaned back in her chair, looking him up and down unconvinced. "Mhmm…"
"I'm not!"
She laughed, patting his back, "I'm just kidding. Sheesh. So sensitive."
The Uchiha still looked upset by her joke and he mumbled, "I'd never hurt you." When he spoke, his black eyes shone with sincerity.
"On purpose," Akira corrected sharply. "You can't guarantee something like that."
Itachi crossed his arms stubbornly. "Well, I will."
Her smile was a small and strained thing, raising only on one side. "So," she cleared her throat, shoved rice in her mouth and spoke around it, "What did you want to tell me?"
His nervousness came back with a vengeance, eyes falling to look at his clenched fists. "I passed the graduating exam. I'll be moving to a new class at the end of the semester and be a genin next year."
Akira froze, swallowing past the boulder-sized lump, and rice, in her throat. "The end of the semester is in three days."
Itachi turned away with no reply.
(don't look away-)
Good thing Akira had enough to say for the both of them.
"Why would you want to graduate so soon? If you graduate in a year, we won't be able to be on a team together." She pointed out. The reason Itachi wanted to start the academy early was because he wanted to be in the same class and, hopefully, be on the same team.
It was one of her driving forces to be top kunoichi of her class, for fucks sake. Her entire world basically revolved around the child next to her. He was the only one who didn't treat her different.
(The nine-tails laughed at that thought—he treated her the same as everyone else in the village when there were others around, the Kyuubi would whisper venomously.)
The Uchiha looked up shyly, "You could take the exam..."
Akira's expression hardened. "I still can't make a clone. You know my chakra control isn't that good anymore, 'ttebane!"
"But your written exams-"
"Don't fuckin' matter when I can't perform the three jutsu needed to pass!" Akira took in her best friends' rigid shoulders and micro-expressions. Violet eyes narrowed, "What's the real reason you're graduating early—drop the bullshit."
Itachi let out a short breath. "Language." He took tapping his pointer finger on the table, ignoring the blondes heated glare. Eventually, he deflated. "…Graduating early is what's best for the Clan."
The resigned way he spoke had Akira swallowing down her betrayal, sadness and frustration. (It went down like a cat in water.)
She was being selfish. It wasn't that Akira wanted to hold Itachi back. She just didn't want to be left behind.
She didn't want to be alone.
Bumping her shoulder against his, Akira gave him a lopsided smile (it didn't reach her eyes), "Guess I better train harder to catch up with ya."
Itachi's replying smile was small, but it was so genuine and made her chest warm. She put a hand on his shoulder and gave it a squeeze. "I'm so proud of you, Itachi."
His alabaster cheeks flushed prettily as he looked away, another smile gracing his lips. "Thank you."
Later that night Akira wondered if Itachi was aware there was more than one way to hurt someone.
It was that loathsome time of the week again.
Grocery day.
The village buzzed with energy as Akira walked among them, a scarf wrapped securely around her neck that covered the bottom half of her face.
Everyone moved like a flowing river the closer she got to the market. It was a nice day out, if a little windy. Fathers held their children on their shoulders while mothers carried baskets or younger children.
So far Akira was able to buy eggs and rice without the vendors realizing who she was. She was always sure to go when it was the busiest. No one paid her much mind when there were others also buying at the stalls.
Almost done with her shopping (there was only so much she could make on her own with such a shitty kitchen and the inability to just go to a grocery store—they always knew who she was there) Akira moved to the nearest vegetable cart.
"What can I get for you?" the man asked, taking coins from another customer.
She listed what she needed and the man bagging the veggies with the ease of someone who had done so all his life.
"Oh, and I'll take two tomatoes, too." Akira added hurriedly. She'd be going to the Uchiha's house later for dinner and couldn't show up without a gift for Satsuki.
At a year and a half, the child went crazy for the damn things and it was the only way to bribe the damn kid to let her and Itachi leave.
Akira handed the man the amount asked and took the bag with an appreciative nod. Before she could secure the bag to her chest, a small body ran into her back, causing her to stagger, the vegetables half spilling from the bag.
"Ah, I'm so sorry!" A woman's voice called out.
Akira got down to her knees and began putting everything back into the bag. She looked up with a smile, "It's alright. No harm no foul."
The smell of fear and hatred abruptly smacked her in the face. She realized too late that her scarf had fallen down and exposed her face.
"Trickster fox!" The vendor screamed in fear. When others looked his way, he shout at them for help, "It's trying to steal!"
The woman grabbed her child and scurried away as fast as possible, face pale.
Akira turned on the vendor, trying her best not to lose her patience, "What? I just paid-"
"Lair!" spit sprayed on her face, "Do you know what happens to thief's and liars? They lose a hand!" He called out to the crowd of angry people closing in. It was like he was an actor and the people his willing audience.
The man grabbed her by the wrist in a bruising grip, pulling her closer to him with an ugly sneer.
All of the color left her face at the contact. No, no, no! She was frozen in fear as the mans face was no longer angry and red but instead scarred and hungry—for a terrifying moment she was back in the woods, staring up at Scar as he went in to bite her—
Akira clenched her eyes closed, cringing away from the phantom of her nightmares and unknowingly letting out toxic chakra. She needed to get away. Run as fast as possible, stay as quiet as possible—
A smell like trees, soil with a hint of body odor came from nowhere. It was enough to help her with escaping the flashback. Akira's eyes snapped open to the sight of…green. Lots and lost of green. And orange.
A tanned hand fell on the vendors shoulder.
"HOW VERY UNYOUTHFUL!" The newcomer bellowed, pulling the vendors hand from her wrist with ease.
The crowd drew back a bit at the newcomer's boisterous exclamation. Everyone knew who the loudmouth was.
"BEAUTIFUL FLOWERS SHOULD BE HANDLED WITH THE UPMOST CARE!" Might Guy fell into his signature pose, thumbs up and smiling. (She could've sworn someone shielded their eyes,)
"S-sir Shinobi, this parasite was caught stealing from my cart." The man stuttered, no doubt at a loss for words.
Akira felt much the same.
Guy turned to her, still smiling. "Is that true?" His voice wasn't unkind, but surely laced with authority. His headband shone in the sun, blinding her momentarily.
Struggling to keep up with everything, Akira stood up at attention, hand over her brow in a salute like the good little shinobi in training she was. "N-no, sir! I paid him in full before he handed me my bag of vegetables, sir! Then my scarf fell and he started shouting that I was stealing, sir! He wanted to chop my hand off…" Guy looked down at her, thick eyebrows drawing together in thought. "Oh sorry. Sir!" She quickly added, feeling both ridiculous and, strangely, scolded.
What the fuck was happening? Why did she keep saying sir?!
Guy kept staring at her, his dark eyes looking through her. Akira began to sweat, prepared for the scorn. Her shoulders raised slightly in defense but still maintained her awkwardly 'standing at attention' pose.
The teen leaned in closer as if reading her life's store from her eyes, practically leaking seriousness. "I SEE!" He shouted suddenly, making everyone around him jump in shock (Akira totally didn't, and she would punch anyone who said otherwise).
Guy turned to the vendor, grabbing the man's hands in his own, "The amount she gave you is not sufficient enough for such high-quality vegetables! Please, allow me to pay the rest! If not, I will run a hundred laps around the village—on my hands!"
The vendor looked overwhelmed, gaping like a fish out of water. The crowd around them slowly dispersed, put off by the constant yelling. There were whispers about Guy, some not too nice.
While the vendor tried talking down Konoha's Green Beast, Akira relaxed her stance and focused on the dropped veggies still laying across the ground.
Everything was in decent shape except the tomato, which was bruised and slightly smushed. Hopefully Satsuki wouldn't hold it against her that the tomato was abused before being cut up to eat.
Once done collecting her vegetables Akira stood up, only to come face-to-face with Guy. "HELLO, YOUNG FLOWER! Everything has been dealt with!"
Cringing and putting the bad thoughts to the back of her mind Akira bowed to Guy. "Please, sir, my name is Akira. Akira Nami—er, Uzumaki." She hastily corrected.
Even though many everyone knew who her father was (he walked around with her on his shoulders for fucks sake), she was banned by the Hokage from using her full name.
It made no sense, and if she were honest with herself, she was resentful toward Hiruzen. He had basically forced her to shed away half of who she was.
Guy raised a thick black brow but thankfully let the subject go. His smile was back to a hundred-watts as he, once again, struck his Good Guy Pose. "You may Call me Guy! Konoha's Sublime Green Beast!"
She couldn't help herself. Akira smiled back fully at how ridiculous he was and how weird the situation was, revealing her sharper canines. She caught Guy's surprise for just a moment as his expression went through differing emotions. Realization, shock, fear, and then finally, acceptance.
He put a large hand on her head and mused it around. "It is nice to meet you, young Akira!" he held out something to her. To her continued surprise, it was a new, unblemished tomato. "I noticed your lovely tomato was crushed in the confusion." He dropped it in her hands, saluted, and disappeared.
And just like that, Might Guy was gone. Not in a flurry of leaves, but with a gentle Guy scented wind.
"…What a strange dude." she mumbled to herself.
The next night Akira stared at the seal laying innocently on the table. She had done it. A seal that when activated, would allow her to see her memories of the Naruto Universe. So long as she had the seal, she would never forget what was to come.
Maybe.
Hopefully.
She already wrote her book (it was called The Little Ninja That could; a retelling of The Little Engine That Could but instead of locomotives, it was about ninjas), so the last thing she needed was a seal to accompany it.
"You don't even know if it will work." Karuma pointed out unhelpfully.
"That's why I plan on testing it." Akira hissed aloud, safe in her home.
There was a lengthy pause, and then, "Its a stupid idea."
"Well, I have no other choice." She grit out, hands resting on either side of the Remembrance Seal. She thought the name was pretty cool.
Karuma stared long and hard in her mind. "I remember very little of my time in Mito and Kushina but seal work isn't something a midget should play with."
Akira rolled her eyes and ignored him. She didn't have a seal master around to check her work, and already she was running out of time.
Her enemies were closing in with every passing day and she would be damned if she let them win.
Taking a deep breath, Akira focused hard and what was, hopefully, a small amount of chakra to her fingertips and touched the seal. When nothing happened, she added pushed in more, determined to make it to work.
The skin on the back of her neck stood on end. Dense black fog emitted from the seal, caressing up her arms like lazy fingertips.
She tried to move back from the unsettling sensation, it struck like snake and flew to her face, slithering in her nose and entering her mouth as she opened it in a soundless scream.
Black veins bulged underneath her the skin of her hands, crawling up, up, up—until the lines disappeared under her clothes.
All was quiet for a breath—before it exploded in an array of sounds, feelings and experiences.
.
.
.
She recalled her first steps, walking into Minato's warm, open embrace,
(Safety.)
Playing Save the Princess,
Talking with an almost fully faceless ghost she just knew was Jemma—or was it herself? The only feature she could see was a permanent frown tugging heavily on full lips,
(Loss. A crippling sadness that stubbornly refused to fade. It stayed as a reminder of the world she had lost.)
The attack when she was four, paralyzed with fear even as Jemma screamed for her to movemovemove,
(There were no other bodies of children for her to steal-)
A Red flickering light, they fell together into it and immediately fell into a million lost pieces-
Jemma was gone, all that was left was Akira.
I am Akira. (But she already knew—because Akira was never truly gone).
(WhoamI?)
Meeting Itachi and punching him in the face,
(Kinship. He was destined to die but he was mine. Death couldn't have him.)
[NO, STOP]
Obito. Sweet, goofy Obito. Like a flickering candle one moment he was there, and the next he was gone gone gone gone gonegonegonegoneGONE!—
(She could have saved him but she didn't, too caught up in bitterness.)
[PLEASE]
The Kyuubi towering over her, piss running down her leg—but she still found the will to move. She needed to save them—they were her parents! (She didn't want to be alone ever again)
Agony like she's never felt before. It cut through her like butter and burned underneath her skin.
Lifeless violet eyes, sunken papery skin and red hair—
[MAKE IT STOP]
The loss and anger grow wider. Deeper. It grew like a lingering fungus, attached to her soul. Feeding off her loneliness—
It was like her. Endless.
She wasn't alone anymore. It wasn't comforting.
Seething anger.
[STOP, NOT AGAIN]
Three men standing over her helpless body, each taking turns biting into her flesh. Marking her. Making her theirs.
She is nothing.
Bottomless rage. Euphoria when they all fell dead. She won. She was NO ONES
-!
.
.
.
Akira reeled back with a wail as she lived through every moment of her life in fast-forward. She projectile vomited black foam, body aching like hell cooled over twice and just as stiff. Coughs racked her aching body as she raised a shaking hand to her mouth to wipe away the lingering bile.
When her hand pulled away there is the unmistakable red of blood mixed in with the black. She shook like a rabbit, laid out in a pool of black vomit that stunk of decay.
She whimpered with the realization that all of that came out of her.
"That was both interesting and… unpleasant." Kurama drawled in a strained voice.
Oh god. Did he feel everything she did? Did he see it from her eyes, too? All of it?
"You truly have awful luck, Midget." He paused, as if reluctant, "Who is Jemma?"
Her body seized up; head slammed back against the floor. Uncontrollable shivers and raced though her legs. She was only half aware she had fallen back into her own vomit.
Somewhere Karuma chuckled deeply, his voice sounded like rain. "A botched reincarnation, and one touched by the Sage himself. How very interesting you have become."
No. NO.
"Shut up! SHUT UP!" screamed, pushing his chakra away despite the pain—far, far away—until her mind was blissfully silent.
The shaking was getting worse. There was a knocking on her door. Like a rollercoaster her gut fluttered and rose—then nothing.
.
.
.
Later, she woke up to a familiar medic. She couldn't quite place where she had met the man before but he smelt like sweet mochi, detergent and antiseptic.
From what the medic—Kisho, she learned—said, Akira had a seizure due to a chakra-induced stroke from an unnamed brain activity overload.
When she sheepishly told the medic what she had done, the man looked close to clubbing her on the head for her recklessness, bespectacled brown eyes harsh.
Apparently, the only thing that saved her from going brain dead was the demon sealed in her body (who she had somehow trapped behind a mental wall).
When she went back to her house after being cleared to leave, the mess was there but the seal was gone.
It took her years to realize the medic, Kisho, didn't smell of neither fear nor hate.
'This has to be a trap.' Akira thought suspiciously as she sat in the waiting room of her old therapy office. Well, not really the same exact building considering the original was destroyed in the Nine-Tails attack.
There were still muted pastels coloring the walls along with cute pictures of cats hanging up. Her favorite was one with a cat hanging from a tree that said "hang in there."
Akira readjusted herself for what had to be the 100th time, doing her best to ignore the heated glare of the receptionist. The woman gave off the distinct scent of hatred, but it was muddier than most.
The child didn't even know why she was there to begin with.
Before she could make a run for it, the receptionist called out her name. "You may enter now." She said, gray eyes shooting kunai.
Fighting past her fight or flight instincts, Akira entered the room. When she saw Oishi Yamanaka behind the desk, her shoulders rose along with her guard.
"Akira. It's been a while." He stated, eyes taking in her defensive position. "I apologize for how long it took for us to meet again. Please, sit." He motioned to the couch.
The younger blonde did as she was told, if a little hesitantly. She sat ramrod straight, arms crossed over her chest. There was still a window to her left, though, so that was nice.
Oishi flipped through some papers on his desk with a hum. "Would you like anything? Tea? Cookies?"
"No… Thank you " she added hastily, not wanting to come off as too rude. She just didn't want to partake in poisoned pleasantries. Not when Makoto was still teaching her the different scents of said poisons.
The Yamanaka looked up from his papers, smile gentle and open.
It freaked her out.
He didn't smell angry. If anything, he smelt somewhat sad. It was different, but not welcome.
Who knew how well someone like him could control his emotions?
When Oishi rolled himself from behind the desk, literally, Akira finally noticed he was in a wheelchair.
Once he made his way around the desk, she realizes why with a sinking stomach.
His legs were gone.
Akira stood abruptly, eyeing him in open horror. That wasn't how she left him—and there was only one distinct thing that happened that could be to blame.
Oishi raised his hand to placate her but it made her flinch. His hand fell back down, going for another approach.
"Quite the sight, huh?" He chuckled, a familiar sadness reaching his eyes. "It's taken a while to get used to. I was finally cleared to leave the hospital two months ago. Please, sit back down."
He rolled himself closer and she saw that he didn't have a chair set out for himself—why would he need one?
"I'm sorry." The words were out of her mouth before she could stop them.
His eyebrows drew together as he came to a stop, locking his chair in place. "Why are you sorry?"
She flinched again. Was he really going to force her to spell it out for him?
"I… The Nine-Tails…" Akira paused, biting her lip as tears gathered on her eyes. Sure, she didn't really like the therapist, but she would never wish him to be crippled!
"Yes. This happened during the Nine-Tails attack." He agreed, "but there is no reason for you to apologize."
Akira took a desperate step forward, hand clawing against her chest, "but he's-"
"Sealed in you? I know. I've read your file." They were stuck in a staring contest for a few minutes before Oishi sighed. "Please. Sit."
She did so. Slowly.
The older blonde took out a decent sized file stamped with black and red. "A lot has happened since we last met."
"And?"
"And I thought you might want to talk about it. I don't have a notepad, promise" He answered smoothly, a smirk tugging at his lips.
Akira leaned forward, sneering at the therapist, "What the hell do you care? Quit pretending everything is fine and just get on with it!"
"Get on with what, exactly?"
The child stood up and began pacing. Oishi allowed it, watching her with a carefully blank expression.
"The blame. For all of the death and destruction—for taking your legs." She stressed the last part with a high tone, tears gathering and body poised and ready to run.
He replied calmly, "Why would I blame you?"
Akira paused in her pacing to scream, "BECAUSE IM A MONSTER!" She was panting, lungs unable to get a sufficient amount of air.
Oishi's face was unreadable, unflinching in her anger. "Is that what you think? That you're a monster?"
She looked to the floor; fists clenched tightly. "Yes," A quiet admittance.
"You don't sound sure. Who are you trying to convince?"
"Just look at me," she whispered, hand lifting in an abandoned gesture as if to say take a gander. This entire conversation was pointless. Her inner demon was quiet, but he was still a part of her.
"I am looking at you." Oishi pushed, "Do you want to know what I see?"
She lifted her tiny shoulders, fight leaving her body.
He leaned forward, elbows resting on his thighs, "I see a little girl who has lost everything. A terrified child hiding behind a mask of a monster because that is what she was told she is. So, she believes it and wears it like a badge in order to distance herself from those who scorn her.
Right now, there is an eight-year-old standing before me who was forced to go through so much on her own, she refuses to trust anyone. Not even herself. "
The air left her lungs as she sank back slowly into the couch, tears escaped from her eyes in rivers down her cheek. Akira felt raw and exposed—because he saw. And not only did he see, he was acting.
To him, she wasn't a monster. She was the bratty child who asked if he did yoga so he could get the stick out of his ass. Akira also realized the sadness she could sense and smell from him wasn't for himself, it was for her.
For the first time someone outside of her little group was looking at her with compassion, with the willingness to understand.
A few minutes passed. "Now," Oishi cleared his throat, and sitting back, "There are a lot of words written down in here, but I'd much rather hear it from your point of view."
Still moved from his words, Akira did her best and Oishi didn't force the issue. He allowed her to control the conversation and where it went.
He couldn't hide the tinge of anger that permeated the air when she spoke of the abuse she went through from the villagers. Nor the bitterness in her eyes when she spoke of the Hokage's decisions.
Whenever she would get too overwhelmed, he eased her into a different, safer, subject.
Three hours later Akira left Oishi's office. Their sessions would be every other day until he felt comfortable otherwise.
Akira didn't feel better or lighter. There was still a weight pressing on her shoulders that hadn't gone away. But she was sure this was a step in the right direction.
Because for once, her reaching hands found someone willing to listen.
.
.
.
I think I'm going nowhere like a rat trapped in a maze
Every wall that I knock down is just a wall that I replace
I'm in a race against myself, I try to keep a steady pace
How the fuck will I escape if I never close my case?
Oh my God, I keep on stressing, every second that I waste
Is another second sooner to a blessing I won't take
(~Falling In Reverse: Popular Monster)
END
A/N:
Sooo... Its been a year again BUT what about that new cover photo? Its pretty cool... Drew it myself...
Alright, 100% transparency; I was extremely close to abandoning this fic. Every time I read someone else's work, my own feels like a cheap imitation. Then I got a review not even an hour after having that thought.
So, thank you sallymadrigal605. And my other reviewers I hold dear (Cat Beats, the kind guest reviewer who leaves me paragraphs to giggle over, topsyturvy-dream and many, many more!).
This chapter has been sitting for months and since I can never get it right, I just decided to post it.
Part of the weirdness is supposed to show that Akira isn't mentally okay. Oishi is back and I suck at writing emotional scenes. Might go back one day and polish this turd of a chapter up but MEEEHHHHHHH.
Next chapter there will be a time-skip-which thank god. I'm so sick hurting this poor child. It makes me feel awful.)
I love to read what everyone thinks about my little Clusterfuck-that should be the new name of this fic. Clusterfuck-chan or some shit.
ANYWAY.
Please Review, Follow and Favorite.