CHAPTER 1: Crawling Roots

Kimiko.

Kimiko Yuhi.

That was the name that was given to her, and it took most of her infancy to get used to.

And, well… it was weird being called a name so far from her own. A name that felt more fitting for someone a sea away from where she'd come from.

Isekai'd into Naruto after a car accident. It sounded like the premise of every cash-grab anime from the past decade. The kind where the protagonist woke up with overpowered abilities and a destined harem. Only this wasn't some cheesy show—it was her life now.

And what a life it was. She hadn't even read the manga, just watched the anime a decade ago when she was younger. Still, the series was iconic enough that she remembered the broad strokes: Kurama, Talk-no-Jutsu, the Chunin Exams, the Akatsuki, and the looming chaos of war. Knowing all this? It didn't comfort her—it terrified her.

Her entire existence had been flipped upside down. Some omnipotent being had ripped her consciousness from her mangled body, created an entirely new character in a world she barely remembered, and shoved her into it. It was absurd. Cruel, even.

But after three days of sleeping, crying, and crapping herself, she began to resign herself to the reality. Whether it was some kind of neurological phenomenon or something else didn't matter. She was Kimiko now—or at least someone in Kimiko's place.

The youngest daughter of the Yuhi household. A citizen of Konohagakure.

And judging by the number of visitors coming to offer their congratulations, her birth had been something of an event.

At first, she didn't pay much attention to them. She was too preoccupied trying to decide if this was real or some hour-before-death delirium. But there's only so long a person can philosophize in circles before reality demands acknowledgment.

When she finally started paying attention, she noticed how… uncanny the people looked. Unnatural hair colors, striking eyes. Not inhuman, but different. They reminded her of someone on the train wearing an elaborate cosplay costume on a random Wednesday. You might spare them a glance, maybe tell a coworker about them later, but eventually, you'd forget.

Here, though, it was normal. Mundane, even.

The weirdness of it all eventually faded into the background, but some visitors stuck out in her memory.

One of the first was a severe-looking man with blank white eyes, accompanied by someone nearly identical. Her father greeted them warmly, giving one a firm handshake. She knew why—it was the Hyuga twins. Hiashi and… Hizashi, wasn't it? The one who died for a reason that escaped her.

The two men exchanged a few polite words in the living room, her mother hosting with grace. Though separated by the nursery's paper walls, Kimiko could make out fragments of the conversation. Her father congratulated Hizashi on his son, Neji, born just months earlier. Hizashi's tone softened when he spoke of his boy, pride evident even from a distance.

Before they left, Hiashi gifted her a wooden rattle. It was simple, but something about it amused her—maybe because it was the first tangible thing in this new life that felt real.

Other visitors followed. A heavyset man with a mane of red hair, flanked by a sandy-haired ninja and a scarred, lazy-looking man. And after them, two teenage boys were dragged in by her sister, Kurenai—one with a scarred cheek, the other tall and spiky-haired, sneaking wistful glances at Kurenai when he thought no one was watching.

Then came an elderly couple, dignified and wise despite their age. When her father bowed low and addressed the man as Sandaime, she understood who he was. The Third Hokage, huh? Maybe Shinku's some big shot. The two men smoked their pipes while her elderly wife took tea with her mother, speaking about things like the current state of the village. She would have paid more attention to them, but her mother hurriedly handed her off to Kurenai, who put her to sleep quite easily.

Yet despite all of the visitors, none captured her attention like the last set of visitors.

They arrived one quiet evening when her mother was lulling her to sleep. The door creaked open, and her mother, expecting her husband, hurried to greet the newcomers.

Her eyes widened a little as she recognized them.

Her father was there, yes. But two people accompanied him. A man with golden hair and blue eyes, his white long coat trailing behind him, stood beside a radiant woman with a prominent baby bump and striking crimson hair. Not ginger—red. Crimson like blood.

Minato and Kushina.

Her mother, startled but gracious, moved to bow, only for Kushina to laugh.
"None of that, Kaori-san. We came here as friends."

"I am sure you did," Kaori replied, recovering with a warm smile, "but I must apologize for not preparing for the Hokage and his wife's visit."

Kimiko's mind raced throughout the entire conversation. Minato was Hokage, and Kushina was pregnant—though not heavily so. That meant this was just months before… that happened. The Kyuubi. The chaos. The destruction. The deaths of so many, including the smiling couple before her.

"We appreciate the thought," Minato said warmly, his voice radiating calm authority. "But you and Shinku-dono should focus on your new addition. She's what matters most."

"She was a handful at first," Kaori admitted, a touch of pride in her tone, "but she's been crying less. It's like she's paying attention to the people around her."

Kimiko almost laughed at that. If only you knew.

"Do you want to hold her, Hokage-sama? Kushina-san?"

Minato stepped forward, taking her carefully into his arms. His blue eyes were warm, his expression one of quiet reverence. Beside him, Kushina looked down with a blend of longing and affection.

And Kimiko's heart broke.

These two would be gone in months. Betrayed by someone they trusted. Konoha would burn, and their son would grow up alone, scorned by the very village they'd died to protect.

She felt tears welling up and, before she could stop herself, began to wail. Loud, petulant cries that seemed far too fitting for the infant she now was.

"O-Oh, apologies, Kaori-san," Minato stammered, flustered.

"The Hokage doesn't need to apologize for an infant's expected behavior," Kaori said gently. "She's probably just tired. I'll put her to bed."

Her mother's soothing voice and the warmth of her crib eventually lulled her to sleep, but the weight in her chest remained.