Chapter 5: Blossoms of Fate
The rest of her infancy went by like a breeze, and as she grew from infant to toddler, so did the things she was able to actually do.
Her family was quite proud when she showed how quickly she "learned" how to do normal baby things. Before she was two years old, she already started speaking in complete thoughts and sentences. A mark of her genius, according to her father. Kimiko was just thankful that her unexplained ability to understand the language the people of Konoha spoke also extended to speech. She didn't have to learn to speak Japanese, because to her perception, they weren't speaking Japanese. They were speaking her mother tongue, which meant the moment she was physically able to talk, she could communicate the way she used to be able to in her past life.
She reckoned that as cruel as the deity who put her in this anime world was, they at least ensured she wouldn't be defeated by her inability to learn Nihonggo.
However, such blessings didn't extend to her literacy, so she still couldn't read or write in the written language of the Narutoverse. Which, unfortunately for her, included three separate writing systems. All stupidly difficult to learn back on Earth: Kanji, Hiragana, and Katakana.
And, because she learned how to speak so early, her mother took that as an invitation to start teaching her how to read and write.
After a day's worth of writing lessons with her mother, Kimiko wore a triumphant grin as she clutched a small sheet of paper filled with wobbly characters. Her mother's warm smile beamed down at her, pride radiating from Kaori as she gently corrected the curve of a stray kana with a guiding hand.
"Good job, Kimiko," Kaori said softly, her voice full of encouragement. "Soon, you'll be writing like your sister."
Kimiko didn't have the heart to tell her mother that her hand felt like it had been through a battlefield. Her fingers ached from gripping the brush, and the characters on the paper still looked more like mangled worms than elegant writing.
"Thanks, Mama," she said instead, trying to ignore the exhaustion that came from focusing so intently. The effort it took to mimic her mother's graceful strokes was almost insulting, given the mid-twenties mind supposedly guiding her hand.
Still, when Kaori placed the paper on the small family display shelf alongside Kurenai's childhood drawings, a flicker of pride warmed her chest. It wasn't about the aesthetics of the characters—it was about what they meant. Progress.
It didn't come to her naturally. In fact, she felt as if she learned how to do it slower than other children her age did. However, she still picked it up quicker than she would have back on Earth. Maybe her mind still had some sort of neuroplasticity despite hosting a mid-twenties presence within.
Her musing was cut off when Kaori's voice came again. "Tomorrow, we will work on your table manners and your everyday etiquette, Kimiko. Maybe we can start working on your Ikebana. A lady must never be uneducated in these matters, you will thank me once you inevitably go to the capital for an event or so. You'll see…"
Kimiko took a deep breath and gave her mother a serene smile. "Yes, mama."
Her father, Shinku, contributed to her development in his own way. Though he spent less time at home, with the Third Hokage relying heavily on her father's support in the rebuilding of the Academy and the revising of its educational system, he made sure to set aside time to guide her through basic chakra exercises. When Kimiko turned three, he introduced her to simple activities that would help her become familiar with her own chakra—nothing strenuous, just little practices to encourage her awareness of chakra.
"Kimiko," he'd say, sitting beside her with a leaf balanced on his palm. "Feel the warmth in your body, like a small fire. Try to guide it, gently. Like this." He demonstrated, the leaf twitching ever so slightly before it stuck to his hand as though glued.
Kimiko would try to imitate him, often ending with the leaf falling away. But Shinku never showed frustration. Instead, he praised her attempts, saying, "Even great shinobi start here."
It seemed that Shinku's gentle teaching method worked extremely well with Kimiko, as it didn't take long for her to start succeeding in making the leaf stick to her palm not a week after she started the exercise.
And when her sister, fresh from a mission, saw that Kimiko was effortlessly performing the exercises, she upped the ante.
"Take this," said Kurenai, handing her a white, crisp paper used for Origami before stepping back. "Let's see if you can make this stick to your hand," continued Kurenai. "And then after you make it stick, make it fold into something simple. Like…this."
Kurenai opened her palm, where a piece of carnation-colored paper sat. And without moving even the tip of her finger, the paper started folding on itself, forming an intricate paper flower on the palm of her sister's hand.
"It's very unbecoming of a lady to show off, as excellent at a task as she is." sniffed Kimiko, causing Kurenai to laugh and ruffle her thick and curly black hair.
"You are our mother's daughter through and through, are you, Kimiko?" said Kurenai with a smile.
The exercise was much harder for Kimiko to do. It wasn't just guiding your chakra to one place; it required you to actively manipulate it to perform a precise task. It didn't take a genius to deduce what the exercise was supposed to teach: chakra control.
Guiding enough chakra to a certain point was one thing, but exerting fine-tuned control over it? That was something that went beyond simple chakra guidance. Pour too much chakra in, and the paper ripped. Too little, and it didn't even stick to her palm. The exercise required patience, deliberation, and precise control.
However, it was fascinating. Something that couldn't have been done in her previous world, and the sheer curiosity she had regarding chakra and its use was enough to have Kimiko hyper-focusing on being able to perform the exercise her sister showed her. The sight of Kimiko with furrowed brows, a hundred crumpled and ripped paper napkins around her, became a regular one in the Yuhi household.
And then, one evening, it happened.
Kimiko sat cross-legged on the floor, her brows furrowed in concentration. A red paper napkin, already slightly crumpled, rested on her small palm. Shinku sat beside her, quietly encouraging, while Kurenai leaned against the wall with a small smile.
"Remember," Shinku said gently. "Guide your chakra like a thread, not a flood. Patience."
Kimiko nodded, exhaling slowly. The warmth in her body gathered in her palm, a small yet steady stream of chakra flowing into the napkin. Slowly, deliberately, she willed the edges of the paper to lift.
It began to fold. Once, twice—each crease sharp and clean. The napkin rose slightly, forming the first semblance of a crane. Her hands trembled, but she held her focus, guiding the last fold into place.
When the napkin flower bloomed on her palm, wobbly yet whole, Shinku's face broke into a wide smile. Kurenai let out a demure, but no doubt impressed smile.
"Well done, Kimiko!" Shinku clapped her shoulder lightly, pride radiating from him.
Kurenai crouched beside her, gently plucking the paper flower from her hand. "Not bad, little sister," she said, holding it up to inspect it. "A little rough around the edges, but for your first try? Pretty impressive. Keep on doing that whenever you're idle, it will help you out a lot in the Academy, and even after."
Kimiko stared at the crumpled little flower, her heart swelling with a mix of pride and relief. It wasn't perfect, but it was hers. A small victory, yet monumental in its significance.
"Thank you," she murmured, her voice soft but sincere. A drop of her sweat trailed from her forehead and fell to the ground. As small as this step was, it was still something to celebrate.
Her social life, or whatever you called her interaction with other kids, was an entirely different story though.
The moment she reached four years old, her father insisted on making her play outside of their house with other kids to make friends. Unsurprisingly, Konoha's culture meant that the parents let their kids play on the streets for hours without supervision. And it made sense—Konoha did, on some level, believe that each clan and citizen was part of an extended "family," and so not only helped in raising all of Konoha's children but also ensured their safety. It also helped that under Fugaku Uchiha's leadership of the Konoha Police Force, crime was practically nonexistent in Konoha.
But really, it didn't help her out all that much. She didn't exactly get along with other kids.
It wasn't as if learning how to talk as eloquently as she could before her death in the real world helped her out with socializing with kids of the "same" age as her. In fact, it may have even hindered her progress, given that it had been so long since she was a toddler that she didn't know how to 'act' like they did. And even if she tried to, it didn't come off as genuine. Children were surprisingly quick to pick up on whether someone was being true to themselves or not.
Of course, being genuine and trying to talk to them as she usually would didn't help either, as doing so resulted in the kids either giving her a weird look or laughing at her because of how little she spoke or how formal she sounded, before leaving her on her own. The first time that happened, she decided to spend as little time as possible with other children her age.
And it's not like she went out of her way to try and accommodate the kids, either. Honestly? There was some part of her that felt like time spent playing with them could be better spent elsewhere, like studying, or giving herself the best advantage possible before she started with the academy. It was a tad bit arrogant, but she had never been the sort to get along with kids back in her previous life, so trying to relate to them and spending an entire day with them when they were being petulantly cruel due to youth was a tall order for her.
So, whenever her father told her to get out of the house, she usually made her way to the Konoha Library instead.
The Konoha Library became a second home to her, and it felt cathartic, seeing all the available information right at her fingertips. The librarian, a retired Chuunin named Goro Hanawa, was surprised at first to see a four-year-old girl trying to ask him for a library card, but as the days became weeks and weeks became months, and she kept on returning to the library to spend entire days reading, she and the librarian became closely acquainted with each other.
"You again, little one?" Goro Hanawa chuckled, adjusting his spectacles as he leaned over the counter. "Haven't read through the whole library yet, have you?"
Kimiko shook her head, cradling a dusty tome nearly her size. "Not yet. But I'm working on it."
Goro snorted, pulling out her usual seat by the window. "At this rate, I'll have to start writing new books just to keep up."
Kimiko grinned faintly, settling into her chair. She loved the quiet humor of the old man and how he didn't treat her like a child. It made the library feel even more like a sanctuary.
She wanted to understand more about the world she found herself in—things that Kishimoto didn't discuss because he didn't think it was necessary to do so in a shonen manga with a focus on battles and action sequences, but were essential to know if you were going to actually live in that world. Things like a detailed history of the wider shinobi world, chakra theory, economics, and many other subjects. Kimiko spent most of her time reading these textbooks, and after a while, the librarian started letting her bring these books back home, where she read them cover to cover and made her own notes in her journal about things she learned about the world.
So for a while, that was her everyday routine: morning exercises with her father and sister (which she deduced was a way to prepare her for Taijutsu training) before leaving the house to go to the library and spend all her time reading about this world she was in. And the longer she studied, the more she realized the reality that Konoha was still a military city, and they were still in a semi-feudal country ruled by a feudal overlord. Though most of Konoha was thankfully literate, she found that most information she could read about shinobi history in the library was heavily propagandized. Stories that framed terrible acts of war Konoha engaged in as 'justified' or 'heroic,' and it reminded her just how different the values she grew up with were compared to the people of this world.
Her little routine didn't go unnoticed forever, and she was forced to speak about her situation to her mother one day when she took her to their family's tea house.
"Kimiko," said Kaori as she ran her ivory comb through Kimiko's long, curly black hair. "The librarian spoke to me yesterday." There was no hint of anger or irritation in the woman's voice, but Kimiko knew the jig was up, anyway.
"I have been spending…more time in the library than I have been honest about, Mother," said Kimiko. "Your daughter can only apologize for her lies." Speaking in such verbose ways came naturally to her now, given the years she spent being raised by Kaori.
"It's good that you don't attempt to cover up a lie with another one," said Kaori idly. "But I can hardly be displeased that my youngest daughter is both curious and studious when other parents pray for their child to be more like you." She continued to comb her hair, and Kimiko had to admire how soft the woman's hands were.
"I would nonetheless like to know why you thought to conceal your activities from us," Kaori asked expectantly. Kimiko had to close her eyes. How could she tell her mother that she thought she was better than the other kids so she'd much rather learn than pretend to be ninjas?
"I was worried you and Father would disapprove, Mother," Kimiko spoke. "That I find books and the library better company than children my age…" A small frown crossed Kimiko's lips.
"And...they didn't seem to be interested in being friends with me," she admitted. "They seem to look at me like I'm something to laugh at and make jokes about, not a playmate, definitely not a…friend." She didn't notice the way her hands balled into fists, clutching her skirt, her head hanging down. Was she this upset about it, and why did she notice it just now?
The comb halted, and the next thing she knew, Kaori held her by the shoulder and turned her around, letting her see her mother's kindly features and the concerned frown that was now on her lips.
"Oh, Kimiko. You should have told me or your father…we didn't expect that the children would…" The frown on her mother's face deepened, but she placed a hand on Kimiko's chin, angling her head up so that Kimiko's eyes met hers.
You're a gifted child, Kimiko. Your father is right about that," Kaori said softly. "The other children… they're just young. They don't know how to handle someone so different." Kaori's tone was gentle but firm as if she truly believed her words. "But when they're older, they'll see just how wrong they were for treating you as they did." She ran a thumb across Kimiko's cheeks to wipe the falling tears.
"But...you must remember, Kimiko. You will grow up to be an exceptional woman, regardless of what you choose to do. But no person, no matter how great, can stand on their own. It will be difficult, especially at first, but you must have people beside you aside from your family." A smile crossed her mother's lips. "Friends who stand by your side and whose honor you'll defend just as fiercely. The ones you trust completely—they'll be the ones who stay with you for life."
Kaori dismissed her to bed not long after, and they never spoke of that little incident again. Neither Shinku nor Kurenai spoke about it either. Kimiko also noticed that they stopped asking her where she was going whenever she left the house, so she had a feeling her mother had a conversation with the two about the situation she was in.
She wanted to believe in her mother's words. That in the future, it'd be less difficult for her to fit in this world she found herself in. She'd actually start to speak to people her age and she wouldn't feel like she's being forced to hang out with children. That she would start to make friends. But…only time will tell.
The world of shinobi did not stop spinning outside. On the contrary, it seemed that when you're actually living in the world, certain events happened quicker than you thought they did.
"What can you say about the current tension surrounding the Council and the Uchiha?" Shinku asked his sister one afternoon, his gaze fixed on the horizon beyond the garden. Beside him, Kurenai paused mid-sip of her tea, her expression thoughtful. Kimiko, meanwhile, was too focused on trimming the rose shrubs in their family's garden.
"There are members of the Uchiha Clan who feel slighted by the village leadership because of recent events," Kurenai began. "It started with Fugaku-sama's non-inclusion for the role of Fourth Hokage. Some of the Uchiha saw it as a deliberate slight. And when they were barred from fighting the Nine-Tails, it only fueled their belief that Konoha would rather risk destruction than trust their clan, "
Kimiko listened intently, her small hands deftly trimming a particularly stubborn branch. The mention of the Uchiha made her pause. She knew how their story would end—and how soon.
"As essential as they are, their relationship with the Council and the people has always been… adversarial, because of the role they perform for Konoha." Shinku said dryly. "Law enforcers are rarely beloved by the people they monitor, and the Uchiha are no exception."
Her father made a humming sound, before continuing to speak. "The Uchiha are right, in a sense. The Council, or rather, Danzo Shimura, made the decision to keep them away from the battle against the Kyuubi, and told them to focus on protecting the citizens of Konoha instead," said Shinku, slowly. "Danzo-san, for all the love he bears for the village, can never be described as an honest man. He is the sort who believes that honesty makes for a poor shinobi,"
"Oh?" Kurenai leaned forward, intrigued.
"Mm. He is one of the Uchiha's biggest detractors, seeing the Uchiha as not being wholly loyal to Konoha the same way he and his clan is," said Shinku, and even without looking back, Kimiko felt the frown in her father's voice. "And when he saw the opportunity to sow seeds of distrust against the Uchiha, he took it. By keeping the Uchiha away from the Nine-Tails, he made it easier for others to question their loyalty. This growing resentment against the Uchiha allows him the political capital and council support to ostracize the Uchiha even more, which is why the Hokage was forced to accept his recent proposal, as offensive as it is to one of Konoha's greatest and most noble clans."
Kimiko's fingers tightened on the shears. Danzo's actions, calculated as they were, had the air of inevitability. She knew where this would lead—the massacre, the grief, the bitter cycle of violence. The future loomed like a dark cloud she couldn't dispel.
"Fugaku-sama has shown displeasure with the Council's decision to relocate his clan to the village's outskirts, where they driven further away from the heart of Konoha. " said Kurenai slowly, "He feels as if the Council is overreaching and giving deliberate offense to his clan, hiding behind the pretense of 'reconstruction.' in order to force them to comply to what they see as targetted and tyrannical ordinances meant to curtail his clan's influence and power in Konoha."
"Hm, 'Wicked-Eye' had always been dutiful, his loyalty to the village unquestioned. He never paid any mind to his clan's malcontents who speak of the village conspiring against them." said Shinku, and as Kimiko turned to trim the bush the other way, she caught sight of the man, who met her eyes and gave her an encouraging smile. "It is concerning that he is seemingly starting to see the situation as these people do." a tight frown formed on his aging father's lips.
"Father… if what you said is true," said Kurenai, "Then by doing this, Fugaku-sama is falling directly into Danzo Shimura's hands. He wants his Fugaku to start refusing to cooperate with Konoha, as it will give him and the council a justifiable excuse to crack down on the Uchiha even harder."
"Indeed." said her father with an oddly grim tone. "And did you hear from your teammate Asuma what the Third intends to do with th Uchiha Situation before it escalates more than it already has?"
"I have," said Kurenai. "The Third plans on speaking with Fugaku and his supporters behind close doors, in an effort to mediate. I feel like it will be useless, though." admitted Kurenai. "Mediation only works if both sides are willing. And the Uchiha….the Uchiha holds grudges like no other clan do." she sighed, sounding resigned.
Her father made a sound of agreement. "I agree. Still," Shinku said, shaking his head, "Not all matters in Konoha are as grim. Speaking of important decisions…I heard from Lord Third that Asuma has received an invitation to join the Twelve Guardian Ninja from the Fire Daimyo himself," Her father sniffed. "A great honor for any Konoha-nin to receive. Has he told you whether he would accept?"
Kurenai stiffened, her face tight. "If he has, it's his choice to make, and it is not something I would discuss with you, Father."
Kimiko glanced over her shoulder just in time to see Shinku chuckling. "What happened to the manners and etiquette your mother took the time to teach you?" huffed Shinku. "Becoming one of the Twelve Guardian Ninja is an honorable role for any Konoha-nin, especially a new jonin. It will allow him to gain some experience navigating the politics that comes with being a jonin of Konoha," He paused for a brief moment. "The Daimyo's courtiers do enjoy their courtly intrigues."
"Konoha needs their shinobi closer to home, now more than ever. What he'll learn in the capital pales in comparison to the service he can render here, to the village," said Kurenai, though Kimiko could hear from her tone that even she saw the wisdom in their father's words.
A small smile crossed Shinku's lips as he continued speaking, making no attempts to refute his daughter, nor even acknowledge them. 'When I took that post, I was fortunate enough to have met your mother. I still remember how we met then, when she, surrounded by a gaggle of giggling handmaidens, approached me, trying to ask for stories about shinobi and the war that raged outside the capital's walls,"
"And you plucked that blushing flower out of the Daimyo's garden and brought it with you to Konoha," said Kurenai dryly.
"Hoh, is that why you're worried about Asuma leaving, Kurenai? Afraid he'll pluck a pretty flower from your uncle's court like your father did?"
"Father!" Kurenai's scandalized tone drew laughter from Shinku, the tension in the air momentarily dispelled.
Kimiko returned to her task, a small smile tugging at her lips. Even amidst the looming shadows of politics and personal decisions, her family remained a source of warmth. But the world beyond their garden was moving too fast. The Uchiha, Asuma, the endless machinations of those in power—it was a reminder that time was slipping through her fingers.
If she wanted to keep her promise, she would have to act—and soon.
Thankfully, she didn't have to wait long. Her days as a carefree child without responsibilities were over, as one day, her father came to tell her that the time had come for her to start her education as a Shinobi in the Academy.
She always flinched whenever her mother brought up the possibility of having her go to one of the civilian schools in Konoha, or even Minzoku, the most prestigious educational institution in the capital, where nobles and rich merchants sent their children to study law, philosophy, literature, and other things they needed to live a cultured and comfortable life.
She didn't want that life for herself; she had lived it before. She was determined to make this life one of consequence.
Her mother's suggestions about alternative education always seemed half-hearted, however. Her conversation with the late Biwako Sarutobi had made Kaori realize that not letting her younger daughter become a shinobi like her husband and eldest daughter would be doing her daughter, her family, and the village a disservice. So really, there was no question about the sort of education Kimiko would receive.
The night before her first day at the Academy, Kimiko couldn't sleep. A thousand thoughts ran through her head. What sorts of lessons would she learn? Would it be easier to make friends there who wouldn't mock her for 'speaking like a grown-up'? Would she finally start to fit in with people who weren't her family?
As dawn broke, Kimiko sat by her window, watching the soft light creep over Konoha. Her fingers idly traced patterns on the glass. Today wasn't just any day—it was the day she'd take her first real step into the world she'd chosen for herself.
When Kaori entered her room to wake her, Kimiko was already dressed, showing precision and meticulousness that was surprising for a five-year-old to have. Kaori said nothing but gave her daughter a look of pride tinged with longing—the look of a mother getting ready to let her child step out into the real world. Kimiko pretended not to notice, focusing instead on straightening her collar.
When she and her mother arrived at the Academy, the instructors had prepared a small introduction ceremony for the new enrollees. The Third Hokage was present and gave remarks to the gathered group of parents and students, speaking about the Will of Fire and how he hoped the students would take the lessons they'd learn to heart in order to become shinobi that Konoha would be proud of calling their own.
As the Hokage spoke, Kimiko glanced around. Some children fidgeted, their excitement bubbling over, while others clung to their parents, eyes wide with trepidation. Her own heart thudded in her chest, a mix of pride and nervous energy.
After the Hokage's remarks, a group of Konoha-nin instructed the new students to line up and follow them while the parents stayed behind. Kimiko thought it was a symbolic gesture, representing the parents 'handing' over their children to the care of the Academy and its instructors.
Kaori knelt to Kimiko's level, smoothing the collar of her shirt with a soft, lingering touch. "Remember, Kimiko," she said, her voice steady but her eyes shimmering. "Do your best, always. Use your head and your heart when making decisions, and whatever you do, your father, sister and I will always love you." Kimiko nodded, swallowing a lump in her throat, and planted a kiss on her mother's cheek before turning to join the line.
Group of students were led to the wide, open field behind the Academy, where they were told to sit on the ground and wait until their names were called by their assigned Academy instructor. Sitting cross-legged on the grass with the other children, Kimiko watched as the instructors called out names, their voices crisp and authoritative. Some children bounced to their feet with eager grins; others shuffled nervously. Kimiko kept her back straight and her gaze steady, her posture pristine, the same way her mother taught her to, even as her palms grew clammy.
Kimiko noticed just how many students were enrolled. She supposed it made sense, given how, from what she could understand, the Third Hokage and her father, who headed Konoha's Shinobi Training and Development Divison revised the entire Konoha Education System at the same time the Academy was being rebuilt. For one, they standardized the ages of enrollment and graduation barring truly exceptional circumstances, (Like Itachi, the last person who graduated earlier than twelve, and even that took a lot of debate, said her father. ) to avoid sending children with single digit ages into the field with the very real risk of death, given that Hidden Villages were created to avoid that in the first place.
She supposed it made sense. The anime focused a lot on Naruto and the people closest to him, like his friends and classmates, but that didn't mean other shinobi didn't go to school the same time as he did. Besides, if each class only had a single class, the shinobi population would start declining very quickly, given the lethality of the job.
Kimiko tried her best to not look suspicious as she scanned the group, trying to pick out the faces of the rest of the Rookie Nine. She did spot a few familiar faces. She spotted a heavyset boy munching on chips, next to a slouched boy who looked like he'd rather be anywhere else.
Shikamaru and Choji, huh? They look exactly like I imagine them to.
Nearby, a girl with blue hair and pale, pupil-less eyes sat quietly as a wolfish boy chatted enthusiastically beside her. A boy in sunglasses sat on her other side, silent but attentive.
So that's Hinata, Shino and Kiba… Her lips twitched into a faint smile.
A few paces ahead, a blonde girl with a vibrant smile effortlessly held the attention of a small group, including a diminutive girl with pink hair.
Sakura and Ino…
"I hope I get the same sensei as Nii-san had," came a voice beside her, and as Kimiko turned her gaze to the side, she was greeted by the young face of a boy with dark eyes and dark hair, a determined and excited look on his face. Kimiko's heart almost skipped a beat when she recognized who it was.
"Sasuke," she spoke, not even realizing she said his name out loud.
"Huh? Yes? How do you know my name?" Asked Sasuke, tilting his head in slight curiosity.
Kimiko blinked at him owlishly, scrambling for an answer. "Your mother, Mikoto-san? She used to visit my family's teahouse. I think I remember you coming with her once."
Well, that wasn't the complete truth. The only time she remembered Mikoto encountering Mikoto and her family at all was when she was barely half a year old, and Sasuke was even younger than she was then.
Sasuke frowned, obviously not convinced. "I don't remember that."
"Ask your nii-san later," she deflected smoothly. That worked with children, didn't it? "Isn't he a Chūnin? My papa and big sis say he's amazing."
"Oh!" Sasuke's expression lit up. "He is the best shinobi I know! He's really strong, even tou-san says he's amazing. I want to be just like him, even surpass him one day!"
Kimiko smiled, listening as Sasuke spoke glowingly of his brother, Itachi. There was no envy in his voice, only pure admiration and affection for a brother he looked up to. Her chest tightened. She knew the impossible choice that awaited Itachi—and the scars it would leave on Sasuke.
She couldn't change everything, and she was beginning to make peace with that. She wouldn't be able to prevent every tragedy destined to unfold, but the fact that she was here—face to face with a child who carried the reincarnated essence of Indra, someone who would one day become one of the most powerful figures in this world and leave an indelible mark on it...
It made her realize just how potentially significant her presence could be.
Their conversation didn't last long after that, as a familiar instructor, a rather awkward and young Iruka Umino, finally had his turn to call who would be part of his class.
"If I call your name, please line up in front of me. "Aburame, Shino. Amano, Masahiko…" Kimiko watched as Iruka started reading names off the list, and she actually started to hope that she'd be part of his class, given how easier it would make befriending the characters she was familiar with, whom she knew would play integral roles in the future, both for Konoha and the entire Shinobi world.
She felt her anxiety rise the closer Iruka got to her surname, but eventually, the moment came.
"Yamanaka, Ino. And…Yuhi, Kimiko."
She felt as if a huge weight was lifted off her shoulders, and she immediately joined the gathered line at the back, keeping a serene look on her face.
But wait, why did it seem like something was missing…?
"Alright," Said Iruka with a bright smile. "From now on, you will be known as Class 1-8. And I will be your Sensei, Iruka Umino. Now, if you'd follow me, we're going to go and proceed to our cla–" Another instructor came rushing in beside Iruka, whispering something in his ear. Iruka's brows creased, and then a steely frown crossed his face, till it was replaced by a look of resigned acceptance. As the instructor left, Iruka turned to address them again.
"Alright, it seems that we will have another member of our class." Kimiko managed to notice the slight tension in his voice as he spoke. He turned his gaze from them, to the sea of students who have yet to be sorted to their respective instructors.
"Uzumaki, Naruto!" Iruka's voice rang out.
The field fell silent. Then, like thunder, a triumphant yell shattered the quiet.
"YEEEEEEAH!"
Kimiko turned, unable to suppress a laugh as a yellow-haired boy in a garish orange jumpsuit barreled toward them, beaming.
"That's me, Uzumaki Naruto!" he declared, pointing dramatically at Iruka, before turning his attention to them, face filled with determination and enthusiasm. "Your new classmate and the future Hokage, you know!"
Kimiko noticed the awkward silence that followed his proclamation, but instead of embarrassment, she felt a spark of warmth. She smiled at Naruto—genuine, serene.
I knew something was missing.