Author's Notes:

I decided to cut this chapter in half because it was getting too long. It has been stewing in my noggin for nearly three weeks now and I'm just relieved that I finally got it out of my head. The last few weeks had been hectic. I had people over and it had been loads of fun. With the way my calendar is looking, it looked like the busiest weeks are all behind me. I intend to post more regularly now. Shoutout to yujikai, Mimi, blackgremlins and ReginaScorpionem22 (both from Ao3 and FFN). You guys are amazing. Thank you for your reviews. Now without further ado, please enjoy this latest chapter.

PS: To Ms Uchiha Itachi if you are reading this, I hope this answers some of your questions regarding Shiori's characterisation. It's not the whole story just yet but it's a start.

Flashback:

It was an ungodly hour in the morning when Shiori walked in on him making a mess on the kitchen worktop. Itachi was treating a rather nasty gash on his left forearm which extended from the back of his wrist to just below his elbow. He had tried to clean it as best he could but it proved to be a difficult task with just one hand free. On top of it all, he was in pain and had been sleep deprived for two days. The most that he managed to do was stem the bleeding into a tiny trickle. The surface he was working on was littered with bandages, bloodstained gauzes and an opened bottle of disinfectant with a red handprint smeared on it.

Shiori grimaced at the scene, sucking in air between her teeth. "Geez Itachi-san, what happened?"

Itachi said nothing in reply. Instead he glared up at her, annoyed. It had been a very long day. The last thing he wanted to do was start a conversation with his sarcastic ward. He was slightly relieved when she stepped back into the dark hallway, disappearing from view. He thought the sight of his arm cut open made her queasy. Not a minute later she popped right back donning a pair of leather gloves. Her dark hair, which have grown past her shoulders during her stay with the Akatsuki, was tied back and away from her face. She grabbed a nearby chair and propped it on the opposite side of the worktop from where he sat.

He sighed, meeting her gaze. His eyebrows furrowed in annoyance. "You're blocking the light."

Shiori ignored his jab and sat on the chair facing him. She reached for his wounded arm. "Let me have a look."

Itachi flinched away, holding his left arm closer to his chest. "I don't need your help."

She fought the urge to roll her eyes at him. Her handler was usually a reasonable man. But when it came to him receiving help, he would rather act like a petulant child.

"You don't?" She asked, keeping her tone even. "Then why does your arm still look like a mess even though you've been here for at least half an hour? I know because I was awake when you and Kisame-san came in."

Maybe it was the dim light of the room. Maybe it was her tired eyes playing tricks on her. But from where she sat, she could swear Itachi pouted at her. His eyebrows scrunched up even more.

"Come on Itachi-san," she sighed. "You're getting blood on the mats."

Blood which she would have to clean later on.

There was a long and pregnant pause. He looked away before gingerly offering his arm to her. She gently took it with her gloved hands. The leather barrier between his skin and hers was the only thing stopping her from gaining access to his memories. He had taught her the steps on how to hold her leaky chakra in but it was going to be awhile before she could put it into practice. The theory was straightforward. Her execution, not so much.

"You were supposed to be asleep," he said. In the witching hour, his voice was husky and sounded deeper than usual.

"And you were supposed to return from the mission unscathed. But here we are."

She leaned over to tie a piece of gauze on his bicep, keeping the baggy sleeve of his shirt out of the way. She brought his arm closer to her face, dabbing its dusty and weepy edges with clean gauze.

"It looks deep but I don't think it needs stitches. Those sticky strips in your first-aid kit will do the job. Although, you might want to have a medic-nin fix it for you later on so it won't scar as badly." She looked up to meet his gaze. "What did it? A kunai?"

"No, a kaiken."

"Sounds sharp." Shiori had no idea what that was. She reached for the disinfectant and gave him a tight-lipped smile. "This is going to hurt."

The entire length of the gash had embedded bits of dirt and dust which she had to dig out to minimise the risk of infection. Itachi barely flinched as she poked and prodded at it. Nevertheless she kept whispering apologies to him. Every time she dabbed at it with disinfectant-soaked gauze she would instinctively blow at the wound to cut the intensity of the sting. She was doing just that when her eyes trailed up to his face. Itachi was pink from his forehead to the tip of his nose. Shiori pursed her lips and abruptly stopped blowing. She cleared her throat awkwardly.

"So…how are you feeling?"

"Like I returned from the mission scathed," he replied flatly.

She bit the inside of her cheek. "Mm-hmm. Really? Is that the wittiest reply you can come up with?"

"At two in the morning yes," he added with a lopsided grin.

"How corny," she whispered. It took a bit of fumbling around but she managed to take out the sticky strips from their packet. She proceeded to take one and taped the skin on one side of the wound, pulling it horizontally over the cut before pressing down. It worked like stitches only less invasive. She added more and more strips until the wound was stickered shut.

"That looks good. Who taught you how to mend cuts?" He asked.

"Oh I taught myself the basics. I read first-aid books when I could. There's rarely a shortage of opportunities to put what I read into use." After pressing a line of gauze over the strips, she unpacked a roll of bandages and began to wrap his forearm.

"After Yugakure, I realised that it's an essential skill to have. I'm not around Sora-san as often as I am around people who are trying to cut me open. I can't fight like you lot. It only makes sense that I get better at hiding and mending. It's not too tight is it?"

Itachi shook his head. It felt perfect.

Once she wrapped the entire length of his forearm, she ripped the excess bandage and secured it with some tape.

"There. All done," she said in a singsong voice as she removed the gauze on his bicep, letting the sleeve of his shirt loose.

"Thank you," he replied. There was another long pause as he turned is hand this way and that. The dressing held up. "You didn't have to do this for me."

Shiori shrugged as she took off her now bloodstained gloves and rested her chin on her palms.

"I know."

"But I'm glad you did."

He smirked.

She smiled.

"I know."

1st of May

A Kumogakure jonin named Karai was lying on his back on top of an examination bed. His top was off, revealing a chiseled physique. On the centre of his chest was a pockmarked scar. It was a reminder of the joint effort between Shizune from Konohagakure and Amai. Their race against time in saving his life from an Exploding Bug courtesy of the Nozikaru Group had been a success. The fact that he was there right now getting what looked to be a semblance of a massage from an auxiliary staff named Shiori was testament to that. Every couple of minutes she would rub her palms together to warm her hands before proceeding to knead the muscles on the top of his pecs as well as his trapezius muscles above his collarbone.

"You haven't been doing the stretching exercises you were instructed to do have you?" She asked.

"What are you talking about? I stretch daily," he shot back.

To prove her point, Shiori released a burst of chakra on a particularly large knot on his left shoulder. Karai yelped in surprise.

"I want to believe you Karai-san. I really do. But how do you explain the five or so knots on your chest and shoulders alone? I haven't even checked your back yet."

Karai sighed in exasperation. "I'm not lying. I do my stretches like I said. Just not in great detail like Amai-san would have wanted. I'm a busy man, Shiori-chan."

Ever since that ill-fated mission in Sugi Village many years ago he had not felt the same. He had been cleared to go back to work shortly after his emergency surgery but since then he had been plagued by aches and pains. The skirmishes he encountered during the recent shinobi war did not help.

"Right. I get it. I don't blame you," Shiori replied. She continued kneading his chest and shoulders, making quick work of the knots she encountered. A couple minutes later she asked him to lay on his stomach so she could work on his back. Karai groaned with relief.

"Oh that feels good. You and your colleagues are lifesavers. I'll tell you that."

"Thank you. I'll make sure to tell everybody."

"…I know I've said it before but you have a knack for this healing business. And I've seen you lurking around this place for years. Don't think I haven't noticed. It's a shame that you refuse to do further training."

A small smile escaped her lips. Her right hand stopped on his lower back and released a burst of chakra on a particularly tight spot.

"I have priorities Karai-san, as I've said before as well."

"Yeah well think about it." He looked up and lifted a light blonde eyebrow at her. It stood in stark contrast against his dark brown skin.

Shiori nodded at him. "Amai-sensei will see you in a minute. Look after yourself will you?"

After a quick bow, she headed out of the examination room to wash her hands. A few minutes later she was in the staff's corner with Karai's notes, documenting her observations dutifully for Amai to go through once he got the chance.

Ever since it opened under the rule of the First Raikage, Kumogakure's Medical Rehabilitation Centre had been running either moderate or full capacity. It catered to both shinobi and civilian villagers who required prolonged recovery periods from maladies sustained either physically or psychologically. Because of the large number of patients they attended to, staffing levels had always been stretched. In the aftermath of the great war the Centre found itself running on fumes. There was a massive influx of people that needed tending to. At the same time half of the highly-trained medic-nins employed in the facility were called to the field or were reassigned to more acute settings. Faced with extenuating circumstances, the village elders found it justified for the Centre to put out job adverts for auxiliary staff positions. No previous training was needed. The only requirement was that they started immediately and that they were willing to learn on the job. Further training would be provided moving forward. It was eight months after the adverts came out when Shiori walked in the reception area and asked if the post was still open.

"We are twelve bodies short," the grey-haired lady behind the desk informed her. "When can you start?"

She started a week later. And she had worked there since.

A couple of minutes after seeing the last person on her list, Shiori checked the wall clock on the waiting area. Amai, the medic-nin she was working under, was sitting on the staff's corner. His nose was buried on one of his patient's notes as he diligently scribbled his entry under the care plan section.

"Right. It's three and it's a Monday. I gotta run, Amai-sensei," Shiori called out to him. "You know how the old man can be."

"Actually no. I haven't had the pleasure. But I've heard the rumours," he replied making a face. The brown-haired medic-nin had many years on Shiori. But his boy-like features and soft round eyes made him look like they were the same age. The first time he was assigned in the Centre as Head Healer, many of the patients couldn't hide their surprise at having their treatment managed by a "boy". It didn't take long though for the highly capable medic-nin to garner their trust. Amai had years of combat and medical training under his belt and it showed. He was quick on his feet and calm on emergencies. His treatment plans were straightforward and effective. It became apparent that it was these characteristics, coupled with his stint as one of the principal jonin of the Logistics and Medical Unit of the Allied Shinobi Forces during the war, which earned him a top position at Kumogakure's Medical Rehabilitation Centre once things got calmer. Shiori loved working with him.

"So you understand why I dread the idea of being late," she said. She hastily put on her yellow waterproof jacket and was about to bid farewell when Amai turned to face her.

"Shio-chan, one minute," he called out. She paused. "I know Karai-san is an idiot and I do not agree with him on many things but I agree with him on one thing. You deserve a raise. You're one of our most hardworking staff in this place and you've been here long enough to warrant a promotion. But I can't recommend you unless you go through training. Will you please consider it this year?"

Shiori was speechless for a moment. Amai, though grateful and polite, had never commented on her work ethic during the two years that she had worked with him. Now here he was flattering her out of the blue. The idea that him and Karai were discussing her of all people surprised her so much it made her uneasy.

"Uhm…"

"Say yes," he pushed.

"I'll consider it, Amai-sensei. Really."

With one final bow, she turned on her heels and brisk-walked out of the clinic.

Shiori kept her head down as she walked the busy streets of Kumogakure. Throughout the years, from the time she spent as a captive of the Akatsuki until now, she had mastered the art of blending in the crowd. Not drawing attention to oneself, she observed, was a delicate balance. If she was too quiet, people could get intrigued and would try to dig up what they could on the new Sotome girl. Oversharing was out of the question for her. But if she gave them just enough of herself to keep their curiosity satiated, if she could convince them of just how unremarkable of an individual she actually was then the questions would stop coming. She could keep acquaintances and colleagues at a safe distance.

After walking down a street lined with small shops, she rounded on a corner until she reached a small gated compound. As she walked past the the gate, she saw the gardener and greeted him with a quick bow before heading straight to the dojo.

A middle-aged man sat in the middle of the room. He sat cross-legged with his hands resting on his knees and his eyes closed while he performed Meiso. Quietly, Shiori removed her boots and tiptoed inside. She hadn't been lying to Karai when she said to him that she had priorities. This was one of them.

"Cutting it close today aren't we, Shiori-chan?" Rakan Rinha lifted his head up to look at her revealing a pair of startling light grey eyes.

"Oji-san. Let's begin shall we?"

Before he met his first cousin once removed, Rakan believed that he was the last surviving member of the Rinha Clan's Kumogakure branch. They were practically wiped out during the Third Shinobi War. He couldn't recall which village started the trend but right during the bloodiest part of it, his relatives turned into bargaining chips and sought-after prisoners of war because of their remarkable abilities in the field of medical ninjutsu. Many were killed in action. A handful of those who survived were executed once they were no longer deemed essential. The other hidden villages were afraid that they would report intel back to the Raikage if they were given the chance to return to Kumogakure. Throughout the years he had heard of exactly one other Rinha alive, a woman named Malice from a small village in Earth Country. She too was quickly neutralised after her brazen attempt at kidnapping the Five Kages. Rakan didn't know the entire story. He couldn't be bothered to dig deeper. Over two decades of solitude suited him just fine.

One autumn day a young woman entered the compound and explained to him that they were related through his cousin and her father, Isam Rinha.

"Isam never had a daughter," he scoffed at her. "Although he did work closely with Yugen-san during the war."

"When exactly was the last time you spoke to Isam?" Shiori asked. She felt neither love nor hatred towards her father. She couldn't remember even meeting him.

Rakan said nothing. But it had been over two decades. No one could tell him whether his cousin survived or not. He simply vanished.

Rakan found it strange for an estranged relative to visit him out of the blue. When she told him why she visited him, he thought she was ludicrous. Shiori wanted to learn the Spirit Reflection Technique under his tutelage. He nearly slammed the gate on her face.

"Who the hell do you think you are?" He fumed. "Do you really think that just because you're my cousin's bastard child you have what it takes to wield the family's kekkei genkai?"

Shiori stood her ground defiantly, ignoring his blatant insults. She refused to walk away empty-handed "I'm not sure but if I have the chops for it then I wanna learn it. I have to."

"Every child born in the clan receives training as per our tradition. And even if that were the case, not every Rinha child is born with the ability to perform the jutsu."

"Fair enough," she replied. "I've asked around about you. I heard that you're the last known member of the Rinha clan who can perform the Spirit Reflection Technique. You also happen to be a strong sensor type. Do you mind telling me if this will allow me to perform the kekkei genkai?"

Shiori breathed slowly through her lips and allowed her chakra to leak out of her the way they naturally did. Rakan was floored. Huge tendrils of chakra emerged from her skin, reaching out as though trying to grab onto another life form. Her reserves were average and so it baffled him how she remained upright despite having half of her chakra out of her body. She looked unharmed. He was surprised for the second time when she told him that all she ever absorbed from people she touched were their memories.

"Odd. I've never heard of a Rinha do that before," he mumbled. "Your chakra control is excellent. Who taught you how to do that?" Controlling and wielding chakra of this calibre were some of the more complex manoeuvres in the practice of ninjutsu. Rakan was aware of how she managed to perfectly keep all of her chakra flow intact until the second she let it loose. Since Shiori didn't graduate from a shinobi academy, someone who did definitely taught her.

Shiori looked around before stepping further away from the gate and inside the compound. They couldn't afford eavesdroppers.

"The Akatsuki did," she replied. "When they bought me from Shimogakure they taught me to control it to make me less visible to sensor types like yourself."

Rakan raised a blonde eyebrow at her. "I know about the Akatsuki, child. And I can tell you that only a handful of them have notably precise chakra control, let alone the knowledge to teach it to someone who wasn't raised to become a shinobi. I want a name."

Shiori hesitated.

"That would be Uchiha. Uchiha Itachi."

A hollow pang emerged from the pit of her stomach. It had been awhile since his name left her lips. And yet its visceral impact on her was undeniable. His name was followed quickly by a vivid image of him at the back of her mind. He felt real and warm and alive. A sense of longing erupted from that hollowness and Shiori was caught off guard at how much it still hurt. She had to breathe slowly to maintain her calm appearance. She was determined to look strong especially with the way Rakan was sizing her up.

"The kin killer," he scoffed. "How nice of him. Please, show me what he taught you." He took a couple of steps away from her in his large front yard, giving her ample space to manipulate her chakra.

She spreads her feet shoulder-width apart and placed her right foot forward before slightly bending her knees to make her stance more stable. In her mind's eyes she imagined her chakra coiling in the direction that her hair grew. The faster it spun the more compact it became until it was small enough to fit inside her body. She felt its density tingling in her arms and fingertips. Rakan lunged towards her and threw a punch aimed at her face. Shiori lifted her hands up instinctively, releasing condensed chakra straight towards him. He swerved just in time and it landed on one of the wooden posts of the pergola behind him. It created a two-inch wide fissure which ran the entire length of wooden structure.

"What?!" He spat in disbelief, eyes going back and forth between Shiori and his damaged property.

Shiori straightened her stance as she caught her breath. "That one I taught myself."

From that day forward she had been in an uphill battle when it came to mastering the Rinha clan's ultimate kekkei genkai. It had been a gruelling process. The first year and a half she did nothing but black out every time she attempted the technique. Rakan had no qualms letting her know how disgusted he was at the state of her physical strength and stamina. Under his tutelage Shiori strived to grow stronger. He made her run laps, lift weights, climb heights and punch objects until every muscle and joint in her body screamed with pain. She had to learn how to meditate, something she found more intimidating than scaling the face of a cliff with a spotter who didn't look too fussed about her survival. Her inner thoughts scared her. Clearing her mind was close to impossible. But she was determined. If there was one jutsu that would give her a real fighting chance at protecting herself and the people she cared about from real threats it was this one. She had every reason to fight and so she fought. Hard.

The first time the bunshin she created of Rakan landed a solid punch on his jaw she howled for joy before her eyes rolled to the back of her head and she passed out. When she came to, she saw her first cousin once removed smile for the first time. Come second year she could maintain a bunshin with nearly the same strength as the original person for over a minute before she needed to stop and catch her breath. On the third year, Rakan taught her how to maintain the bunshin while on the move. Shiori wasn't a sensor type. She had to keep the source of her bunshin within her sight or else the jutsu would get interrupted. It was a massive drawback, one which she tried to work around by improving her speed and reaction time. She had to make sure she never lost sight of her opponent despite whatever projectile object came her way. And now, four years later her goal was to push the length of time she could effectively maintain the jutsu. Dozens of fainting spells had given her an idea of how much chakra she could afford to spend without losing consciousness.

It had been three minutes and forty seconds now. Shiori crouched low on one corner of the dojo. Her hands maintained the ox seal and her eyes were glued to the two Rakans sparring in the middle of the gym. One of them was the bunshin she conjured using the Spirit Reflection Technique. It threw a punch at the real Rakan who dodged the hit with the smallest shift of his head. He then grabbed its arm with one hand and grabbed the back of its neck with another before pulling its face down to meet his raised right knee.

In the split second it took for the bunshin to regain its footing, Rakan flicked a kunai towards Shiori. She rolled out of the way. For that split second just before rolling right side up once again she lost sight of him. She gasped. He was running straight towards her. Behind him the bunshin flickered and disappeared from her loss of focus.

"You're suppose to dodge not hide!" He shouted as he threw a front kick at Shiori. She blocked it just in time before landing hard on her back. In the length of a heartbeat that it took for the sole of his bare feet to collide with the skin on her forearm, she released control of her chakra long enough to absorb some of his. His memories echoed inside her head as she weaved the hand seals needed to perform the Spirit Reflection Technique. She punctuated the sequence with the ox hand seal and another bunshin emerged behind Rakan, a replica which was perfect in looks and closely identical in strength. It hit him on the side of the head with a roundhouse kick. This time Rakan took out a kunai and went for Shiori one more time. She quickly jumped to her feet and pulled out a kunai of her own from the holster on her thigh. She cursed inwardly as Rakan slashed at her direction. She parried each swipe until the last one which she blocked with her own blade.

"You forgot to stay out of the way," he chastised.

Shiori yelped as he pressed his kunai down on hers. She wasn't strong enough to push him away. Just before her arms gave out, Rakan stopped abruptly. The bunshin had crept up from behind him and aimed a blade at his jugular.

"I did that on purpose," the bunshin replied smugly. "Glad you took the bait."

"Fuck. My bad." Rakan lifted his arms in surrender. The bunshin vanished from sight and Shiori collapsed on her back as she gasped for air. Her lungs were on fire but at least she was awake to feel every agonising breath.

The older Rinha looked at the timer. "Four minutes and thirty-nine seconds. Not your personal best."

"I could've…pushed more…but you…already lost." Shiori grinned wickedly as she gasped.

"Reel it in."

She focused on steadying her breathing, spending a few more seconds to gather her chakra inside her. Once she got it under control she allowed him to pull her up to her feet.

"Good job today. We need to work around that little glitch of yours but other than that you've been pretty solid."

At six-foot four, Rakan Rinha towered over Shiori. The fifty-two-year-old was also three times her size. He had a bulky and muscular physique which he maintained despite retiring from field work over a decade ago. His cropped sandy blonde hair and bushy eyebrows stood out against his golden brown complexion, one which was a few shades darker than hers. For two people who were closely related, they barely shared any physical traits. Even Rakan's eyes, which were grey like Shiori's, have a shade so light they almost looked like molten silver. It made him look all the more intimidating.

"Well look at that," he exclaimed as he checked the clock once again. "Time flies."

"Thanks for today oji-san," she said with a bow. "I'll see you again tomorrow."

"You know where to find me."

—

The twenty-minute walk to the house Jin and Miyako relocated to was one of the things that Shiori looked forward to on Mondays and Tuesdays. For years now she barely had time when she could afford to tune out the world around her. It seemed like she was always in the middle of a task. Something always needed doing. Someone always needed to be looked after. There were meals to plan, groceries to do and doctors' appointments to schedule. She cherished every mundane minute of these tasks without a doubt, especially since she was all too aware of how quickly all these could be taken away from her. But it was this infinite to-do list which made her all the more grateful of what little time she could spend alone, thinking of nothing except how to get to Point B from Point A. She walked the six blocks which took her from the Rinha compound to Kumogakure's open market. A few of the vendors recognised her and said hello. Some offered her items with last-minute price cuts before closing for the day.

"Ah you know the drill, oji-san. I can't stay to chat when it's this late."

Three blocks away from the market place at the very last house on the right side of the road, Shiori opened the gate and knocked on the door. She could hear ruckus somewhere inside and a small smile spread on her lips.

She wasn't lying when she said she had priorities. This was another one of them, the biggest priority of all priorities as far as she was concerned.

The front door opened revealing a twenty-six-year-old woman with bright blonde hair and warm brown eyes. It was her best friend Miyako.

"Hey. You look stunning," she greeted.

Shiori rolled her eyes and smiled at her. "More like I look stunned. But okay."

"Well the old man hasn't killed you yet. So you look good enough for me." She continued her small talk while Shiori entered their living room and picked up a small back pack and a black jumper.

"-by the way I made a lot of extra stew for dinner. I packed you some so you can skip cooking dinner tonight."

This one made her squeal excitedly. "Miyako you are a rockstar. You know that right?" She sighed.

"Of course I do. What would you do without me? Also it only seemed fair. I used the spices you gave me last week. Those were the real game changer."

Before they could chat some more, the back door burst open. Hurried footsteps echoed from the kitchen all the way to the living room. A pair of four-year-old boys appeared from the doorway. One had bright blonde hair which was cropped short to his little head. He bowed at Shiori in greeting before plopping on to the sofa near where they stood. Another had short black hair which matched his dark eyes. He stopped in front of Shiori and smirked cheekily at her.

"Alright Eiko," Miyako said turning to her fair-haired son. "Say goodbye to Naoki-kun and Oba-chan."

Shiori went on one knee so she could be eye level with Naoki. "Good evening. You were quick."

"I heard you come in," he replied, taking his jumper from her. He refused her offer to help him put it on.

"How could you be so sure? I could have been Jin oji-san, you know."

Naoki pulled the jumper over his head and gave her a sideway glance. "I always know when it's you, Mama."

Author's Notes:

I'm afraid these past couple of chapters are dragging a bit. It sure feels that way to me writing them. At the same time I feel like I can't skip them either. I think it's important that I set the tone on the current political/social climate surrounding the characters. It had been five years since the ending of Colorblind after all. So much has changed after that. Plus there are new characters in play both OC and canon. What are your thoughts? Please let me know on the comment section below.