Chapter 7: Garden of Growth
"Haaa!" yelled Shinku, his bamboo shinai held low at his side, both hands gripping the hilt tightly as he charged forward, his bare feet slapping against the wooden floor with a steady rhythm.
Kimiko stood her ground, her shorter shinai—a tanto-sized practice blade—held firmly before her in a two-handed grip. Her crimson eyes never left her father, who, despite his graying hair, moved with the agility of a man half his age.
Shinku closed the distance in a flash, raising his blade high overhead before bringing it down in a sharp arc, a strike meant to cleave through an opponent from head to waist. Kimiko didn't falter. Instead of blocking directly, she swung her tanto upward in a horizontal arc, catching the descending blade against the flat of her own. Her feet dug into the floor, her entire body straining as she locked her father's strike in place.
"Hoh, you're getting stronger, Kimiko. Faster, too," Shinku remarked with a grin, his face close to hers as their blades trembled in a contest of wills.
Kimiko didn't reply. Instead, she cocked her knee back and thrust out with a sharp front kick. Shinku disengaged, leaping backward with practiced ease. Kimiko didn't hesitate. She surged forward, her blade held diagonally, its tip skimming just above the floor.
"Yes! Stand your ground and defend, but strike with resolve when you attack! That is the philosophy of Konoha-ryu Kenjutsu!" Shinku boomed, his voice resonating through the room as Kimiko brought her sword upward in a sweeping strike.
He met her blade with a precise downward parry, the clash of bamboo echoing sharply. Kimiko pressed the attack, her strikes coming in a relentless flurry from all directions. Shinku moved like an unshakable oak, his stance firm as he deflected each blow, stepping back only enough to keep his footing.
He wasn't content with defending forever. As Kimiko lunged forward with a thrust, Shinku slapped her blade aside with a sharp twist of his wrist, leaving her wide open. In a real battlefield, the follow-up swing he unleashed—a brutal, horizontal slash—would have beheaded her.
Reacting on instinct, Kimiko's free hand shot to her chest. Her fingers blurred through a sequence of seals. She wasn't yet confident in her one-handed seals, but her father had insisted she master them. "A kenjutsu specialist must always have one hand on their blade, which means their other hand must know how to do the work of two. " he'd said.
And now, that lesson was the only thing keeping her from defeat.
The bamboo blade closed in on her neck, and a split second before impact, she completed the final sign and shouted, "Ninja Art: Blossoming Escape!"
The moment wood met flesh, her form burst into an explosion of crimson petals. They swirled in the air, vibrant and mesmerizing, catching the light as they drifted around Shinku. For a brief moment, the petals seemed to fill the entire room, their spinning motion disorienting.
Kimiko was enveloped in darkness, her body feeling weightless and suspended in a void for the fleeting heartbeat it took to reform behind her father. The sensation was jarring, similar to the disorientation one felt when first performing a Substitution Jutsu, but she had trained herself to adapt quickly. As her feet touched the ground, she landed with quiet precision, her tanto poised in her grip. Around her, the crimson petals swirled briefly before scattering into the air and fading into nothingness, leaving only the faintest trace of their presence.
"Ha!" Shinku exclaimed, whirling around to face her, a broad grin on his face. "Not content with mastering the Academy's jutsu, are we? Did your sister teach you that?"
Kimiko gave a small, almost sheepish smile, still catching her breath. "She might've shown me once," she admitted. She'd watched Kurenai perform it during a sparring session with Shinku, and Kimiko's sharp eyes memorized the seals and the way her sister manipulated her chakra. The rest had been hours of painstaking practice—secret, stolen moments in the dead of night.
"Well done," Shinku said, his voice brimming with pride. "Adaptation and ingenuity. That's how a shinobi survives. Kurenai would be proud of you, Kimiko." He raised his blade, gripping the hilt with both hands, the blade now parallel with his face. "But I sense you still have more tricks. Come! Attack!"
Kimiko obliged, leaping high into the air with her tanto aimed directly at her father's neck. Her descent was swift, precise, but predictable—too straightforward. Shinku reacted effortlessly, thrusting his longer shinai upward to intercept her attack. The two blades clashed with a sharp crack, and for a moment, Shinku felt the familiar resistance of an opponent's weight pressing against him.
And then Kimiko vanished in a puff of smoke.
Shinku's brows furrowed. "No… that wasn't a standard clone. I felt the weight—" His eyes widened in realization just as two identical Kimikos emerged from opposite directions, charging toward him in perfect synchronization. Their movements were fluid, their expressions unwavering, curly black hair framing crimson eyes alight with determination.
The two Kimikos leaped into the air simultaneously, their blades trailing streaks of chakra as they moved with blinding speed. Both Kimiko left behind shimmering afterimages as they carved through the air, their paths forming an unmistakable arc.
They were forming an image of a crescent moon.
"Konoha Style: Dance of the Crescent Moon!" the two Kimikos declared in unison, their voices sharp and resonant as they bore down on their father from both sides.
Shinku raised his free hand, forming the Fire Release Seal in a practiced motion. A wall of fire erupted around him, roaring to life and forcing the two Kimikos to halt their attack and leap back. The intense heat radiated outward, dissipating the lingering afterimages in an instant.
As the flames died down, Shinku stepped forward, his expression calm but his voice carrying unmistakable pride. "In just three months since I began teaching you jutsu, you've not only become adept with the sword style I founded for Konoha, but you've also managed to execute one of its most advanced maneuvers. Not even Hayate was that skilled when he was a genin."
Kimiko's cheeks flushed a faint pink at the praise. She dipped her head slightly but couldn't suppress the small, bashful smile forming on her lips. She knew exactly who her father referred to—Hayate Gekkō, or Hayate-nii-san as Shinku insisted she address him. The seventeen-year-old chūnin was her father's protégé, the first to master the Konoha Style Kenjutsu directly under Shinku's tutelage.
Kimiko had spent hours watching her father and Hayate spar, soaking in every fluid movement and calculated strike. She'd often innocently asked Hayate for tips, feigning childish curiosity, but her real intent was always clear: to learn. She loved watching him demonstrate the Dance of the Crescent Moon, her crimson eyes tracing the elegant arcs of his blade. They wouldn't teach her outright—she knew that much. So, she relied on observation, pestering Hayate to repeat the maneuver until she understood it down to the last detail.
Her father chuckled, shaking his head as he watched her reaction. "You've been sneaking lessons from Hayate, haven't you?" he teased lightly, his tone warm.
Kimiko glanced up, her expression innocent but her eyes betraying a flicker of mischief. "Maybe," she admitted softly, gripping her shinai with both hands. "But only because I want to make you proud, Tou-san."
Her father approached her, a warm smile on his face as he ruffled her hair. "And learning how to do the Shadow Clone Jutsu, too. Who taught you that?"
Kimiko kept her expression even, a serene smile gracing her lips. "I learned from watching you, Nee-san, and Hayate Nii-san," she said lightly.
And Naruto, she added silently. For five hundred and more episodes.
The truth was, the Shadow Clone Jutsu wasn't terribly complicated in theory. It required only a single hand sign and the ability to expel chakra from your body, directing it to where you wanted the clones to form. The trick—and the reason it was classified as an A-rank Jutsu—was the sheer amount of chakra required to create even a single clone. For most shinobi, attempting it would either deplete their reserves or leave them vulnerable.
"Hm," said Shinku, "Well, I suppose you proved to me you know what you're doing, unlike other girls your age."
A few months ago, her father would have scolded her for being so reckless, his stern voice echoing through the training yard. But now, there was nothing but resigned pride on his face, a flicker of admiration softening his usual sharp gaze. Sparring with her day after day had given him insight into who she was—not just as his daughter but as a shinobi in the making. She would never stop pushing herself, always testing the boundaries of what she could achieve.
And he understood now: she wasn't reckless for the sake of it. She calculated her risks, always staying just within the line of what she could handle. Shinku also knew exactly how much chakra she had. Even if she misstepped, she wasn't in any real danger, not with the chakra reserves she possessed and her budding control.
"Though," Shinku began as he stepped back from her, his tone carrying the weight of both teacher and father, "your technique could still use some polishing. You rely too much on speed—speed without strength won't serve you well in a real fight. You need to train your body to endure, so you won't flinch at every bit of damage."
Kimiko nodded solemnly, her tanto held loosely at her side. She respected her father's critiques more than anyone's, but the teasing glint in his eyes made her pause.
"And," Shinku continued, his voice adopting a lighter tone, "I see your control still struggles with two shadow clones."
A faint blush crept up Kimiko's cheeks at that. Creating two shadow clones was no small feat—most shinobi couldn't even manage one until they were well into their jonin years, and some never could, their reserves simply too meager. But here she was, not even a genin yet, holding her own against the limitations that others would never surpass.
Her lips quirked into a small, wry smile. Is this what it feels like to be a prodigy? she thought, the warm, unfamiliar sensation of pride settling in her chest.
"But, a woman should never neglect her promises," said Shinku as he placed his bamboo sword on the wicker where identical ones were placed in. Shinku narrowed his eyes at Kimiko when it was clear Kimiko was clueless as to what he was saying.
"You promised Sasuke you will have dinner with him and his family today,"
Realization dawned on Kimiko's face. She'd almost forgotten about the dinner amidst the day's excitement. Shinku chuckled softly, shaking his head. "Your mother prepared your clothes. Go on, get dressed. You wouldn't want to keep the Uchihas waiting."
Kimiko bowed slightly, her composure intact. "Thank you, Tou-san," she said before hurrying off, silently grateful for her parents' perceptiveness.
"Oh, Kimiko-chan, Sasuke here tells us you're the best kunoichi in your year. Is that true?" Mikoto asked warmly, passing a bowl of rice and curry to Kimiko, who accepted it with practiced grace.
Kimiko straightened her back, careful not to fidget as she responded. Her mother's meticulous etiquette lessons echoed in her mind, reminding her to leave the perfect impression, especially when dining in someone else's home. "Sasuke-kun is being too kind," she said with a modest smile. "I've been fortunate to have parents who've instilled the importance of diligence and hard work. I'm not nearly as skilled as Sasuke-kun—he inspires me to improve every day."
Her response struck the perfect balance between humility and praise, and Mikoto's approving smile showed that it hadn't gone unnoticed. Fugaku, seated at the head of the table, gave her an appraising look before nodding slightly. "You're well-mannered and perceptive. Traits every shinobi should cultivate. No wonder Sasuke speaks so highly of you."
Sasuke beamed, leaning forward in his seat. "Kimiko-chan is amazing! She's the strongest in our class after me. She's already mastered the Clone, Substitution, and Transformation jutsu—and she can even make Shadow Clones!" His eyes sparkled with pride, his grin wide enough to rival Naruto's.
Kimiko blinked at the unexpected praise, her cheeks warming slightly. Fugaku raised an eyebrow, visibly impressed. "A Shadow Clone? At your age?" His voice carried a hint of surprise. "That's not a simple jutsu. It seems you have talent on par with Itachi's at this stage."
A momentary silence fell over the table at the mention of Itachi, the empty seat opposite Fugaku serving as an unspoken reminder of his absence. Mikoto, ever gracious, quickly steered the conversation to lighter ground.
"It seems our Sasuke is quite fond of you, Kimiko-chan," Mikoto said with a playful lilt. "I can see why—so bright, polite, and pretty. You have all the boys in your class distracted, don't you? Let's just hope Sasuke doesn't spend too much time ogling you."
Kimiko's eyes widened slightly, her lips parting in surprise, but before she could respond, Sasuke choked on his water, his face turning a deep shade of crimson. "Kaa-san!" he whined, looking both mortified and flustered.
Kimiko pressed a hand to her mouth to stifle her giggle. "Thank you for the compliment, Mikoto-san," she said softly, her voice steady despite the amusement twinkling in her crimson eyes.
The warmth and ease of the family's dynamic settled over the table like a comforting blanket. Mikoto's radiant smile, Sasuke's boyish enthusiasm, and even Fugaku's rare approval painted a picture of a family bound by love and pride.
But for Kimiko, the moment was bittersweet. It was hard to sit here, sharing a meal, knowing what was coming. Her gaze flicked to Sasuke, who grinned at her in between bites of food, and her heart ached. It was one thing to know a tragedy was coming, but it was something else entirely to be powerless to stop it.
Still, she promised herself that when it happened, she wouldn't abandon Sasuke. She would stand by him no matter how far he tried to push her away.
"Kimiko-chan, have some more curry," Mikoto said, breaking through her thoughts. "You're growing into such a lovely young lady—make sure to keep up your strength."
Kimiko smiled and accepted the offer, letting herself be pulled back into the moment. For now, she could only do what she'd always done: do her best and hope it'll pay off in the end.
Kunoichi classes began in their second year at the academy, open exclusively to the girls. Compared to their other lessons, these felt more like social gatherings than rigorous training sessions—at least on the surface. Their instructor was a matronly kunoichi with a perpetually kind smile, the type that could mask a hidden sharpness. Kimiko had no doubt the woman could wield her tea ladle as effectively as a kunai if needed.
The classes covered a range of skills deemed essential for a kunoichi's survival and mission success. They were taught a variety of traditional Land of Fire dances, along with a few from neighboring countries, meant to help them blend seamlessly into foreign environments. Lessons in playing stringed instruments followed—an area in which Kimiko discovered she was utterly hopeless, much to her quiet frustration. The same couldn't be said for Ikebana, where she quickly proved to be second only to Ino.
There were also lessons on formalities: tea ceremonies, sewing and embroidery, wearing proper attire like formal kimono, and mastering the art of makeup application. Each lesson seemed designed to cultivate an air of grace and refinement, preparing them to infiltrate the highest echelons of society if required.
At first, Kimiko had felt a flicker of indignation at the implications. Her modern sensibilities bristled at the idea of using "womanly charms" as tools for missions. But as the lessons progressed, she realized how deeply the martial aspects were woven into the curriculum. This wasn't just about learning to look elegant or poised—it was about survival and adaptability.
They were taught to identify poisonous herbs and flowers, as well as how to arrange bouquets in ways that could hide lethal toxins. They learned to conceal weapons in places no man would think to search and how to wield everyday items as improvised tools of defense. Their instructor emphasized deception and adaptability as paramount. The art of passing as a highborn lady wasn't just about appearances—it was about how to manipulate perceptions to their advantage. It wasn't lost on Kimiko that the skills mirrored those of historical geisha or courtesans, famously utilized as spies even in her original world.
These classes weren't her favorite, but even she could see their appeal. They provided her with a chance to mingle with girls her age, something she often realized she was sorely lacking.
If she were being honest, it frustrated her that most of the people she could truly call friends—Sasuke and Naruto—were boys. They were loyal companions, and she cared for them dearly, but even her mother had gently chided her for not cultivating friendships with other girls.
"There are things men cannot even hope to understand about us, Kimiko," Kaori had said one afternoon, her hands deftly embroidering a floral motif on a silk scarf. "A good lady surrounds herself with other women she can trust and rely on. It does not reflect well to be disliked by your peers."
Kimiko couldn't deny the truth of her mother's words, but it wasn't as if she'd intentionally isolated herself. Most of the other girls in her class either resented her for her closeness to Sasuke or found her intensity off-putting. Her drive to excel—to push herself further and faster—had left little room for the camaraderie that came so naturally to others. She'd tried to brush it off as a necessary sacrifice, but even Kurenai, her effortlessly popular sister, had voiced her concern.
"You can't spend all your time training, Kimiko," Kurenai had said during one of her rare visits home. "A kunoichi needs allies, and that doesn't just mean your teammates. Don't underestimate the value of friendships."
So, Kimiko resolved to make an effort. This class seemed like the perfect opportunity to bridge that gap. But changing first impressions was far harder than she'd expected, and most of her attempts at conversation fizzled awkwardly. For the most part, she remained on the fringes, quietly working on her embroidery while the others chattered in their little groups.
That was, until one day, when she overheard a few girls' voices cutting sharply through the usual hum of the classroom.
"Why are your eyes like that?" a lanky looking girl sneered, her tone dripping with condescension. "They're so weird. You're pretty weird, Hinata!"
Kimiko's hand froze mid-stitch, her crimson eyes snapping to the scene. Hinata Hyuga, her pale, pupilless eyes downcast, stood fidgeting with the hem of her sleeve as two older girls loomed over her. She mumbled something inaudible, her soft voice drowned out by their laughter.
Kimiko's jaw tightened. The frustration she'd felt earlier about her own struggles faded into the background, replaced by a surge of protective anger. Similar to the one she felt when she saw the same scene with Naruto. She set her embroidery aside and rose to her feet, her movements calm and deliberate as she approached the group.
"Strange," Kimiko said, her voice cutting through the laughter like a cold blade being pulled from the silk sheath which covers it. The girls turned, startled by her sudden presence. "I was under the impression we were here to learn, not to embarrass ourselves by acting like petty bullies."
One of the girls frowned, her confidence faltering. "We weren't—"
"You weren't what?" Kimiko interrupted, her tone devoid of warmth and soft. "You weren't mocking someone for something so asinine? You weren't mocking someone for possessing the Byakugan? Hinata is not the only one who looks like that. Her father does, too. Are you mocking the Hyuga Clan, an important clan who protects our village? Who protects your family?" She made sure they would feel the venom dripping from her tone. She could never master the way her mother seemed to sound ill affected even when she's displeased. "Because that's exactly what it sounded like."
Hinata's wide, surprised eyes flicked up to meet Kimiko's, and for a brief moment, the tension in her posture seemed to ease. The older girls muttered half-hearted excuses before shuffling away, clearly unwilling to confront Kimiko further.
Turning to Hinata, Kimiko softened her expression and offered a small smile. "Are you alright, Hinata-chan?"
Hinata nodded quickly, her cheeks pink as she fumbled for words. "T-Thank you, Kimiko-chan."
Kimiko met Hinata's gaze, and she only just noticed how they were exactly the same height. "You don't need to thank me. Those girls were out of line, and you don't deserve that kind of treatment." Straightening, she added, "You have nothing to be ashamed of. Your eyes are beautiful, Hinata-chan."
For the first time, a small but genuine smile graced Hinata's lips. "You… really think so?"
Kimiko nodded, her own smile widening. "Absolutely."
From that day forward, Hinata began sitting beside Kimiko in class, and she quickly found the girl to be earnest, if painfully shy. She was a surprisingly intelligent and well-mannered young girl, and they quickly bonded because of their similar upbringing and lessons. Though Hinata's own "etiquette," lessons were taught to her by her Hyuga tutors, unlike Kimiko, who was taught by her mother.
And slowly but surely, Kimiko started to feel a shift in her place among her peers. She wasn't just the intense girl who always trained too hard—she had friends, and she never let them fight alone. It all came to a head during one of their ikebana lessons when Kimiko noticed Ino, by far the most popular girl in their year, approaching her and Hinata with an air of confidence. Trailing behind her was a pink-haired girl with a ribbon in her hair—Sakura Haruno. Another familiar and important face in Naruto's story.
"Wow, Kimiko-chan," said Ino, her bright blue eyes glinting with curiosity. "You're really good at ikebana and matching the colors."
Kimiko paused, offering Sakura a polite smile before returning her attention to Ino. "Not as good as you are, Ino-chan. Your arrangements are always praised by the instructor. I wish I could be as good as you."
Ino blinked, visibly surprised by the compliment. Kimiko noticed the way her hand instinctively brushed a petal off her lap, a gesture of self-assurance touched by modesty. Before Ino could recover, Kimiko turned her gaze to Sakura, whose hands nervously fidgeted with the bow in her hair.
"And you're the best at embroidery in our class, Sakura-chan," Kimiko continued smoothly. "Could you help me with mine? I can't seem to get the pattern right."
Sakura's head snapped up, her green eyes wide with surprise. It was clear she hadn't expected to be singled out, let alone praised. A faint blush spread across her cheeks, and for a moment, she seemed at a loss for words.
"You… you think so?" Sakura finally stammered, her voice tinged with both uncertainty and delight.
Kimiko gave her an encouraging nod, and something shifted in the air between them. In tandem, the two girls' faces brightened, and they immediately moved to sit beside her and Hinata, who shyly smiled at them. The sight made Kimiko's chest warm—Hinata deserved to feel included, too.
As the four girls settled in, Kimiko stole a glance at Hinata, who seemed relieved to have company. She couldn't help but feel a quiet sense of pride. Perhaps this was what her mother meant when she spoke of the importance of female companionship. It wasn't just about appearances; it was about forging connections that could strengthen them all. In a world written by men, it felt oddly satisfying to start building relationship between women. Or girls, in their case.
This marked a sharp turn in Kimiko's personal life. Once accustomed to solitude or the company of Naruto and Sasuke, she now found herself surrounded by peers. When she wasn't training with Sasuke or playing with Naruto, she often spent time with Hinata between classes, walking her out of the Academy at the end of the day and exchanging polite nods with the Hyūga scion sent to escort Hinata home.
Ino, however, was not content with casual interactions. She frequently went out of her way to invite Kimiko and Sakura to her family's flower shop. There, Ino would either gush about flowers (especially the poisonous ones, which she dryly noted were Kimiko's favorites to learn about) or half-heartedly study with the other two.
Inevitably, though, their sessions always circled back to a certain Uchiha.
"Sasuke's so cool, isn't he, Kimiko-chan?" Ino asked one afternoon, sprawled across the floor with a half-finished assignment abandoned beside her. Her bright eyes rested on Kimiko, who sat cross-legged with her usual grace, always the picture of composure.
"He is very talented," Kimiko replied evenly. "I'm glad to be his friend and chosen sparring partner. I learn a lot from him."
"Oh, so you're just friends?" Sakura interjected, her curious green eyes flickering to Kimiko, then to Ino, who suddenly looked far more interested in the answer.
Kimiko blinked, momentarily caught off guard. How did one explain to two infatuated seven-year-olds that their classmate was more of a training partner than a romantic interest?
"We are more than friends," Kimiko began carefully. She saw their faces fall and quickly continued, "We are comrades. We are shinobi. We push each other to be our best. He has helped me improve my skills more than anyone else, and I have nothing but respect for him and his skills."
Her polite smile gave nothing away. She didn't need to directly address their hopes about Sasuke.
"Oh, you're so serious, Kimiko-chan," Ino teased, though her shoulders relaxed, and a playful grin replaced her earlier tension. "No wonder he likes you."
Kimiko stifled a small laugh behind her hand, though her thoughts grew more somber. Should she intervene in this budding rivalry? She remembered how the original anime depicted their friendship unraveling during the Chunin Exams, driven by their shared affection for Sasuke.
It felt petty—a wasted bond over something as trivial as a boy. If she could prevent that, wouldn't it be worth the effort?
"Sasuke doesn't just like me. He respects me," Kimiko said with a calm smile, her crimson eyes meeting theirs. "He respects that I want to be a great shinobi, just like he does. And he knows that if he loses focus, I will catch up to him—or even surpass him," she added, her tone light but confident, with just a hint of playful challenge.
Ino blinked, her mouth opening slightly in surprise. "Huh," she said finally, as if she'd never considered this perspective before. Beside her, Sakura furrowed her brows, seemingly deep in thought.
Kimiko allowed herself a small smile before returning her gaze to the book in her lap. It was a biography on Tsunade, one of the legendary Sannin, whose strength and brilliance had positively shaped countless shinobi lives.
Strength wasn't just about power, Kimiko reflected. It was about the respect you earned, the goals you pursued, and the confidence you carried.
This might only be the start, but with time, perhaps even Ino and Sakura would realize that beauty was far more than skin deep. It was a lesson worth teaching, one kunoichi to another.
The day started like any other, though there was an undercurrent of something unspoken, a tension hanging in the air. Kimiko noticed it immediately, though she tried to brush it off. Her father insisting on accompanying her to school was unusual, but she reasoned it might just be his overprotectiveness. After all, it wasn't unheard of for parents to hover, even if she thought she'd outgrown it.
Still, the streets were quieter than usual—not empty, but subdued. A faint pall of dread seemed to settle over the village. Kimiko caught the wary glances exchanged between adults as they escorted their children to the Academy. She dismissed the uneasy feeling, though it lingered at the edges of her mind.
When she reached the classroom, the weight in the air seemed heavier. Iruka-sensei, who was usually so full of energy, looked pale, as if he'd seen a ghost. But the final, undeniable sign that something was wrong came when she looked to the seat beside her.
Sasuke's seat. Empty.
He's never late...
Kimiko spent the day trying to focus on her lessons, but the absence gnawed at her. By the time the Academy let out, she couldn't bear it anymore.
"Tou-san, I want to see Sasuke. He wasn't at school, and he never misses school," Kimiko said, her voice trembling slightly as she entered their home. She found her father sitting in the garden, a serious expression on his face.
Shinku sighed deeply and beckoned her closer. He pulled her onto his lap, something he hadn't done in years, which only made her apprehension grow. "Kimiko…" His tone was heavy, filled with unspoken sorrow. "Something very bad happened to Sasuke and his family."
She didn't need to hear the rest. Her breath caught, her chest tightening painfully as realization dawned.
The Uchiha Clan Massacre.
A knot formed in her stomach, her mind reeling. She had known it was coming, but knowing and experiencing were two different things. The weight of guilt crashed down on her—guilt for knowing and doing nothing. She had trained, studied, and pushed herself to the top of her class, but in the end, she was still just a child playing at being strong.
Kakashi was a genin at her age. Itachi... Itachi had been a prodigy. And yet here she was, powerless to protect the people she cared about. She clenched her fists, her nails digging into her palms. She felt like a fraud.
Her father's voice broke through her spiraling thoughts. "I won't let you go to the Uchiha compound," Shinku said firmly. "It's dangerous. If Itachi comes back for Sasuke, you could be caught in the crossfire."
Kimiko nodded stiffly, though her heart ached. She understood his logic, but it didn't lessen the helplessness that consumed her.
Weeks passed before Sasuke returned to school, but the boy who walked into the classroom was not the same Sasuke she knew. He had always been introverted, but when you got to know him he was just as eager to interact as other kids. But the Sasuke who came back was quiet and cold, and even to Kimiko, his closest friend in the Academy, his responses curt and distant. He refused to meet her gaze, his once easy camaraderie replaced with a wall of ice.
What hurt most was his abrupt withdrawal. Gone were the days when they would spar after school, pushing each other to improve. Now, he went home immediately, his focus shifting to something darker, more obsessive. Kimiko tried to respect his distance, sensing that he needed space, but it stung nonetheless.
In his absence, Kimiko leaned on her new friends. She practiced taijutsu with Hinata and Naruto, marveling at Hinata's quiet determination and Naruto's boundless energy. During one sparring session, Kimiko teased Hinata about her obvious crush on Naruto, only to have the Hyuga girl turn crimson and beg her not to tell.
She spent her ninjutsu practice time with Ino and Sakura instead of Sasuke, though their skills paled in comparison. They mostly watched in awe as Kimiko performed jutsu with effortless precision, occasionally asking her to demonstrate techniques.
Kimiko's growing circle of friends extended beyond Hinata, Ino, and Sakura. Naruto, ever eager to include her in his adventures, introduced her to Choji Akimichi and Shikamaru Nara. The pair, like Naruto, often stuck together during breaks and after school.
Shikamaru, as expected, was an unmotivated child who seemed to view life itself as a chore. He often sighed deeply, calling everything he didn't enjoy "a drag." While his laziness occasionally amused Kimiko, it also frustrated her when his apathy extended to group activities. Choji, on the other hand, was surprisingly sensitive and kind. His genuine warmth and polite manners endeared him to Kimiko far more than Shikamaru's nonchalance.
One afternoon, Naruto convinced them all to play Ninja in the field behind the Academy. As Kimiko effortlessly outpaced Shikamaru during a mock spar, the boy scowled and muttered, "It's weird playing with a girl... especially one who can kick my butt."
Kimiko tilted her head, her crimson eyes narrowing slightly. "Maybe you should try harder, Shikamaru-kun," she replied, her tone light but pointed. She didn't miss the way his cheeks flushed slightly, though he only grumbled something about it being "too troublesome."
Choji, however, was quick to offer her encouragement. "You're really good, Kimiko-chan! I don't think anyone in class could beat you except Sasuke." His sincerity brought a small smile to her face, and she found herself appreciating his presence more with every interaction.
Meanwhile, Hinata introduced her to her own small circle of companions. Kiba Inuzuka was brash and boisterous, his boundless energy matched only by his loyalty. His sharp tongue occasionally earned him a warning glance from Kimiko, but his heart was always in the right place. Shino Aburame, by contrast, was quiet and enigmatic. Kimiko initially found his reserved demeanor puzzling, but as she got to know him, she came to admire his calm intelligence and subtle sense of humor.
The four of them didn't spend as much time together as a cohesive group, as Kiba and Shino seemed naturally closer to each other. Their shared interests and similar temperaments often drew them into their own world, leaving Hinata somewhat on the sidelines. This left Kimiko as Hinata's closest companion during their interactions.
At first, Hinata seemed shy and hesitant with Kimiko, her words barely above a whisper even after the time they spent together in their Kunoichi classes. But as the days went by, Kimiko noticed subtle changes. The Hyuga heiress started to open up, her gentle smiles becoming more frequent and her voice steadier. It was clear she appreciated having someone who treated her with patience and kindness, a kindred soul who didn't see her as just a quiet, nervous girl but as someone with potential.
Kimiko, for her part, found herself enjoying Hinata's company more than she expected. She'd even go as far and say that she enjoyed her company the most out of every other friend she had. There was a quiet strength in the girl, hidden beneath layers of self-doubt, that Kimiko found both inspiring and familiar. It reminded her of her own struggles to assert herself in a new and challenging world.
One afternoon after class, as they walked toward the Academy gates where Hinata's caretaker awaited, Hinata hesitated, her steps slowing. She glanced nervously at Kimiko, her pale, pupilless eyes flickering with uncertainty.
"Kimiko-chan," she began softly, her voice barely audible over the murmur of other students, "thank you... for spending time with me. I don't feel... alone when I'm with you."
Kimiko's chest tightened at the quiet vulnerability in Hinata's words. She stopped walking, turning fully to her friend with a warm smile. "We're friends, Hinata-chan," she said, her tone gentle but resolute. "That's what friends are for."
Hinata's cheeks turned a soft pink, her shy gaze dropping briefly before she looked back up at Kimiko with a tentative but heartfelt smile.
Inspired, Kimiko reached into her pocket and pulled out a piece of lavender origami paper. "Wait a moment," she said softly. Holding the paper in her palm, she exerted a precise flow of chakra, her movements smooth and practiced. Before Hinata's widening eyes, the paper folded itself repeatedly, each crease sharp and deliberate, as if an invisible hand guided it. In moments, a delicate, intricate flower rested in Kimiko's palm.
"It's a chakra control trick my nee-san taught me," Kimiko explained, holding the paper flower out to Hinata. "I'm giving it to you as a sign of our eternal friendship."
Hinata's eyes filled with wonder as she accepted the flower with trembling hands. For a moment, she stared at it as if it were the most precious thing she had ever received. Then, without hesitation, she stepped forward and wrapped her arms around Kimiko in a tight hug, entirely unbothered by the curious glances of other students.
Kimiko froze for a heartbeat, then smiled, gently returning the embrace. This, she thought, is why friendships matter.
When Hinata pulled back, her face was glowing with gratitude. "Thank you, Kimiko-chan," she whispered, her voice trembling with sincerity.
Kimiko chuckled softly, brushing a stray strand of Hinata's hair out of her face. "Anytime, Hinata-chan. You're never alone."
Carving out a place for herself felt like a triumph. The fear of being a forgotten, nameless person in her second chance at life had all but vanished. Naruto's exuberant praise, Ino and Sakura's admiration, Kiba's lingering glances, and even the warmth of Hinata's friendship were tangible reminders that she mattered.
She belonged.
But no matter how deeply she immersed herself in training or friendships, the shadow of Sasuke's grief lingered at the edges of her thoughts. It was a quiet, persistent ache, a reminder of the fragile boy who once shared his aspirations with her but now seemed so far away. She couldn't forget the hollow look in his eyes or the way his once-innocent smile had disappeared, replaced by a mask of determination and solitude.
I couldn't save them, she randomly thought during one of her sleepless nights, guilt and frustration swirling within her. But I can make sure Sasuke doesn't face this alone.
Her resolve hardened. No matter how much he pushed her away, she would remain by his side. He didn't have to face the darkness alone—not while she was still standing.
It seemed her growing friendship with Hinata hadn't gone unnoticed. One day, as Kimiko walked Hinata out of the Academy like she often did, the Hyuga scion who fetched her—Ko Hyuga, as she had learned—paused before leaving. With a formal bow, he handed Kimiko a neatly folded letter before taking Hinata's hand and escorting her away.
Curious, Kimiko opened the letter on her way home. The elegant script within caught her attention immediately.
To Ms. Yuhi Kimiko,
The Hyuga Clan cordially extends an invitation to you and your family to join us in celebrating the Hyuga Clan Heir, Hinata Hyuga's birthday celebration, this coming twenty-seventh of December, held at the Hyuga Clan Compound.
We thank you for your generosity and graciousness.
Hiashi Hyuga
Head of the Hyuga Clan Main Branch
Kimiko furrowed her brows as she read, noting the absence of an RSVP. When she showed the letter to her mother that evening, her suspicion was confirmed.
"There's no RSVP because it's expected that we attend," Kaori explained, her voice thoughtful. "The Hyuga don't often invite people outside their clan to join celebrations as personal as this."
Shinku nodded, his arms crossed as he leaned back in his chair. "It's true. Despite how familiar I am with Hiashi's father, Old Man Hiromi—having served alongside him during the Second Great Shinobi War—I was never invited to the Main Branch Compound."
He turned his gaze to Kimiko, who sat as demurely as possible. "Hiashi and his late brother, Hizashi, even gave you a gift when you were born. I doubt you remember that."
I remember it vividly, actually, Kimiko thought dryly but kept her expression polite. "Of course, Father. I would be honored to attend Hinata's birthday celebration."
Shinku's expression brightened, and Kaori smiled warmly. "Good. The Hyuga don't extend such invitations lightly. It's not just a birthday party, Kimiko—it's an acknowledgment of your friendship with Hinata, and perhaps more."
Kimiko inclined her head, a polite smile on her lips, but inside her thoughts whirred.
Konoha, as different as it was from the real world, had something painfully familiar: equality, while idealized, wasn't truly a reality. Not everyone here was treated the same, no matter how much the village wanted to believe otherwise.
Officially, all shinobi were equal under the system, distinguished only by their rank, not by their clan or background. But, as with most ideals, reality painted a different picture.
Konoha's shinobi could broadly be categorized into two groups: Clanless Ninja and Clan Ninja.
Clanless Ninja, often referred to as "First-Generation Shinobi," were exactly that: shinobi with no ties to an established ninja clan. These individuals were usually the first in their families to take up the mantle of a shinobi. They formed the backbone of Konoha's forces—brave and skilled, but lacking the inherent advantages that came with clan affiliation.
Clan Ninjas, on the other hand, hailed from Ninja Clans, which weren't necessarily "clans" in the traditional sense of a single extended family. Instead, they were more like coalitions of families united by shared ancestry or purpose. For many clans, their identity stemmed from a common ancestor who had developed foundational jutsu. These techniques became the basis for their secret clan arts, honed and passed down through generations. The Yamanaka, Akimichi, and Nara clans were classic examples of this structure, each one specializing in a unique jutsu upon which most of their other clan jutsus stemmed from.
Other clans, however, had been forged through unification rather than by a single, shared founder. These were founded by charismatic and often military leaders who managed to consolidate several warring factions and clans, as well as their wealth and secret knowledge, under a single name and banner. Clans like the Shimura and Sarutobi fell into this category, earning their prestige through shared history and loyalty rather than a single trademark jutsu.
Yet the most prestigious ninja clans of all were were the ones descended from ancestors with rare, inheritable traits—Kekkei Genkai. These genetic quirks enabled abilities no outsider could replicate. The Uchiha, with their Sharingan, and the Hyuga, with their Byakugan, were prime examples. Their unique powers elevated them, setting them apart from other shinobi, and afforded them influence and status within the village that bordered on nobility. (At least before the Uchiha's massacre. Now only the Hyuga can claim such status.)
It was easy to see why these clans commanded so much respect. Their histories were steeped in both power and influence, and their contributions to Konoha were undeniable. But this prestige also bred secrecy. Clans guarded their techniques fiercely, and outsiders were rarely, if ever, privy to their inner workings. Clan Ninja also often performed tasks not only for Konoha but also for their Clan Heads. Aside from that, Clan Ninja often had to contribute to their clan's coffers, and in exchange get certain benefits like access to their clan's vaults and archives of jutsu.
For all its ideals, Konoha was no stranger to hierarchy. Clan Ninja had access to generations of specialized training and secret jutsu, while Clanless Ninja were left to make do with their own ingenuity, raw talent, and what techniques were kept in the public access section of Konoha's Jutsu was why someone like Minato Namikaze was so revered. A clanless ninja who rose to the pinnacle of Konoha, becoming Hokage through sheer genius and relentless hard work. Minato's story wasn't just one of personal triumph—it was a symbol of what could be achieved even without the backing of an established clan. He was the first Hokage of truly humble origins, a beacon for every First-Generation Shinobi in the village.
Kimiko, technically, was a Clan Ninja, but the Yuhi Clan was still in its infancy. Her father, Shinku, was a First-Generation Shinobi who had carved out a place for their family in Konoha. Through skill and dedication, he had risen to become a highly regarded jonin, responsible for overseeing the education of all Konoha's genin and chuunin—a position widely regarded to be a prestigious post for those retired from active field duty.
Her sister Kurenai, meanwhile, was making waves of her own. A formidable kunoichi, she was already earning whispers that she would soon ascend to the rank of jonin. Kimiko didn't doubt it for a moment. She knew her sister's future, after all. But what truly amazed her was how Kurenai had achieved everything by forging her own path. When Konoha Style Kenjutsu, the style their father had pioneered, didn't suit her, Kurenai hadn't been deterred. Instead, she had crafted an entirely new set of jutsu for her own use, one that made great use of her prodigal skill on genjutsu, relying solely on her creativity and intellect.
Kimiko considered herself fortunate. She resonated with the kenjutsu style Shinku developed, and it had become a foundation for her growth. She didn't have to face the daunting challenge of starting from scratch the way Kurenai had. But even with that advantage, Kimiko knew that couldn't rely on the strong clan infrastructure someone like Hinata or even Sasuke. There would still be some parts of Shinobi life she had to navigate on her own, like finding her chakra affinity.
For today though, she could just prepare for her close friend's birthday party.
The Hyuga Compound was immense, larger even than the Uchiha Compound, with an imposing elegance that spoke to its centuries-old legacy. Every detail of the estate exuded the Hyuga clan's characteristic precision, from the meticulously trimmed hedges to the polished stone pathways that guided guests toward the main house. Even the air seemed to hum with discipline and decorum, a stark contrast to the warm and casual atmosphere of most civilian gatherings.
The festivities were already in full swing when Kimiko and her family arrived. Dozens, if not hundreds, of shinobi swarmed the compound, their polished attire glinting faintly under the soft glow of paper lanterns strung along the courtyards. The sound of polite conversation and measured laughter carried through the air, blending with the faint strains of traditional music being played somewhere within the estate.
Kimiko's eyes widened as she took in the scene. Though grand, the gathering carried an unmistakable air of military precision, every detail orchestrated like a well-planned campaign. She quickly realized the celebration wasn't merely a birthday party for Hinata—it was a display of the Hyuga clan's enduring strength. In the shadow of the Uchiha massacre, this event was as much a political statement as it was a personal celebration. The Hyuga were flexing their power, reminding the village—and perhaps those beyond it—that Konoha's strength had not diminished.
Ko Hyuga, ever poised and formal, greeted them at the gates. His pale eyes swept over the group, pausing briefly on Kimiko's father.
"Shinku-sama," Ko said, bowing deeply. "The Hyuga clan is honored by your presence. Hiashi-sama personally requested your family attend."
Kimiko's brow arched slightly at the statement, her mind catching the subtle weight of Ko's words. She noted her mother's and sister's faint reactions—Kaori's almost imperceptible nod of approval, and Kurenai's barely-contained curiosity. It was rare for a host of such stature to personally send for guests, a gesture that marked both great respect and expectation.
Shinku, ever composed, responded with equal grace. "We are honored by Hiashi-sama's invitation. Please, lead the way."
Ko bowed again and turned to guide them through the compound. As they followed, Kimiko's gaze roamed over the gathering. Her red kimono—matching her sister's—swished lightly with each step. A single red flower ornament tucked into her loose black hair added a delicate touch to her otherwise formal appearance.
The Hyuga Main House loomed ahead, its architecture austere yet regal. Within its grand hall, important shinobi from various clans mingled, their distinct insignias a vivid tapestry of Konoha's diverse clans. At the center of it all sat Hiashi Hyuga, his expression as unreadable as the pristine white robes he wore.
Seated just below him was Hinata, her small frame stiff with practiced decorum. She looked ethereal in her light lavender kimono, but her lowered gaze hinted at nervousness. Beside Hiashi, a woman bearing a striking resemblance to Hinata cradled a baby in her arms, the infant's features favoring Hiashi's stern countenance more than hers. Kimiko's sharp eyes darted between them, noting the family resemblance and deducing the woman's identity as Hinata's mother.
As they entered the hall, Kimiko felt the weight of several gazes settle on them, curiosity and polite interest mingling in equal measure. Her father's steady presence grounded her, his calm confidence a reminder to carry herself with poise.
The four of them approached Hiashi and his family, their footsteps light against the polished stone floor. When they reached him, it was Shinku who spoke first.
"Hiashi-sama, my family is honored by your invitation," Shinku said, bowing low. His family followed suit, bending deeply at the waist. Kimiko could feel the weight of Hiashi's pale, inscrutable gaze settle on them, heavy and unyielding.
After a pause that felt like an eternity, Hiashi's calm voice broke the silence. "You do not need to bow so low, Shinku-sama. You fought and bled alongside the Hyuga; you are a friend to us. It gladdens my heart to see such friendship extend to the next generation."
Kimiko's posture remained impeccable as she kept her head bowed, though she knew he was referring to her and Hinata.
"Yes, my daughter speaks glowingly of her friendship with the Hyuga heiress," Shinku replied smoothly.
Hiashi gave a small nod. "Indeed, and my daughter has spoken with high regard for your daughter's conduct and skill. You are fortunate to be blessed with such accomplished and beautiful daughters, Shinku-sama."
Kimiko resisted the urge to glance at her father, feeling Hiashi's gaze shift to her. "Young lady," he said, his tone steady but faintly warm, "the Hyuga are grateful for your kindness and camaraderie toward its heir."
Kimiko raised her head just slightly, meeting his gaze with a composed smile she had practiced countless times. "Hiashi-sama, I am honored to share such friendship with the Hyuga Clan's Heiress. I only regret not knowing her sooner." She allowed her smile to soften as she glanced at Hinata. "Hinata-san is an esteemed friend, and the bond we share is something I will always treasure."
Her words were measured, and they landed with precision. She saw a faint but genuine smile bloom on Hinata's face, mirrored by a softer expression on her mother's. Hiashi gave a satisfied nod, his approval unmistakable.
"Well spoken," Hiashi said. "It seems my daughter has chosen her companions wisely. Which reminds me, Shinku, have you heard about the latest Chunin Exams held in Iwagakure…"
As the conversation between Hiashi and her father shifted to broader topics, Kimiko found herself tuning out. Her father, ever the tactician, gave her a slight nod—a subtle suggestion to mingle and make herself known among the crowd. Kimiko excused herself quietly and drifted into the bustling celebration, her crimson eyes scanning the room for familiar faces. The room was a sea of pale eyes and finely tailored robes, voices blending together in polite murmurs and laughter. But as much as she searched, she couldn't spot anyone from her Academy class.
Am I the only one who was invited?
The thought settled uneasily in her chest. Though this celebration was ostensibly for Hinata's birthday, it quickly became apparent that the focus wasn't on the Hyuga heiress's happiness. Hinata was busy entertaining dignitaries and guests, her small frame moving from group to group under Hiashi's watchful gaze. This wasn't a birthday party—Her birthday just proved to be a convenient excuse.
Her crimson eyes softened with sympathy. Poor Hinata. To have your birthday turned into a political affair… How miserable must she feel?
The realization dulled her earlier excitement, and she wandered toward one of the quieter corners of the compound. Away from the noise and opulence, she found herself standing alone, the cool night air brushing against her cheeks from an open window. Her hand absentmindedly smoothed the fabric of her red kimono, the silk catching the light of the lanterns.
"Not enjoying the party?" came a quiet, even voice from behind her.
Kimiko turned, her crimson eyes meeting the pale, sharp gaze of a boy about her age, maybe a year or so older. His long, dark hair was tied neatly, framing a face that was undeniably handsome but carried a weight far too heavy for someone so young. She recognized him instantly: Neji Hyuga. Hinata's cousin and a prodigy, even at his age. Someone who would have been the head of the Hyuga Clan if he wasn't born of the younger twin. Someone who lost a father and developed such a bleak out look in life, who believed in the futility of going against what he thought was fate, before Naruto, in his usual way, talked some sense into him.
Someone who'll die in the future. She dryly thought. She made it a habit to remind herself whether someone she meets was someone who'd die in the future.
"I wouldn't say that," Kimiko replied, offering a polite smile. "But it seems this celebration isn't quite what I expected."
Neji's lips twitched into something between a smirk and a grimace. "That's because it isn't. You're perceptive." He leaned slightly against the wall, his posture relaxed but his gaze watchful. "This isn't for Hinata-sama. It's for the clan. Rather, it's for the main branch."
Kimiko hesitated, unsure how to respond to the quiet bitterness in his tone. "Even so," she said gently, "Hinata-san seems to be handling it with grace."
Neji huffed a faint laugh, though there was no humor in it. "Grace," he repeated. "That's what's expected of her. It is her duty."
And there it was, the burning spite that Neji held for Hinata and the Main Branch. As resigned to his fate as he was, the boy still detested the Hyuga heiress, who he was expected to give his life for. The person who, to him, was the reason as to why his father died.
If only I can tell you what really happened…
Kimiko tilted her head, studying him. He looked at her directly, as if daring her to pry further, but there was a flicker of something else in his gaze—a subtle softening, a faint curiosity. She was used to people looking at her, but Neji's gaze lingered in a way that was different. It wasn't just curiosity or admiration; it was as though he were trying to figure her out, to place her in the rigid framework of his world.
"Forgive me if I'm speaking out of turn," she said softly, "but expectations can be heavy, even for someone as strong as you seem to be."
Neji's pale eyes widened briefly before narrowing again, but he didn't answer right away. Instead, he straightened, stepping closer to her. She caught a faint whiff of sandalwood and something distinctly clean, almost sharp, like freshly fallen snow.
"And what would you know about strength?" he asked, his voice quieter now, almost contemplative.
Kimiko's smile didn't falter, her gaze holding his. "Enough to know it's not just about skill or power. Sometimes, it's about enduring things that feel unbearable."
Neji narrowed his gaze. "Strength is strength. It's the capability to make the world your own. If it doesn't help you do your duty, then it isn't strength." Neji flatly said.
Kimiko held her ground, "A bit prosaic," she stated, "Do you suggest that the ability to endure and persevere isn't important in a shinobi?"
"It is, but not as much as skill and talent." said Neji. "A person can be the most driven and enduring person in the world, but if fate decrees that they be mediocre, they can never be anything but."
"So you think you are blessed by fate, then, to be as talented as you are?" Kimiko replied, teasingly. News about the Hyuga prodigy above their year wasn't scarce in the Academy.
"I am what I am, and you are who you are." said Neji stiffly. "What talents I have is something I will use, regardless if someone thinks I'm blessed or not,"
"Hm, then maybe we can see which of us fate smiled upon longer," said Kimiko, "We can have a match should we make time, Taijutsu? If you'll allow me to use my father's Konoha Style Kenjutsu, then you can use your Jyuuken, to make it fairer and even for you." said Kimiko, averting her gaze from Neji
Neji's expression flickered, the faintest hint of surprise crossing his features. As if he would never expect someone to actually challenge him in a spar, at least, someone who sounded genuinely confident in their chances of victory. For a moment, he said nothing, his gaze dropping briefly to the delicate flower ornament in her hair before returning to her eyes.
"You're different," he murmured, almost to himself.
"Is that a compliment, Hyuga-san?" she teased lightly, a playful lilt to her voice.
Neji blinked, his cheeks faintly coloring as he realized what he'd said. "Don't read too much into it," he muttered, turning his face slightly away, though not before she caught the way his lips twitched upward in the barest hint of a smile.
Kimiko laughed softly, a sound like the chiming of wind bells. "Of course not."
The moment stretched into a comfortable silence, the two of them standing together in the quiet corner as the distant hum of the celebration continued around them. Kimiko's thoughts briefly flickered to Hinata and how this boy before her, despite his jaded demeanor, likely carried more weight than he let anyone see.
"I hope we can talk again sometime," Kimiko said finally, dipping her head politely. "I'd like to know more about someone Hinata-san speaks of so highly. And my offer for a spar is genuine,"
Neji raised a brow, but there was a subtle warmth in his gaze now, a crack in the icy exterior he wore so carefully. "Perhaps," he said, before inclining his head in return. "Enjoy the rest of the evening, Yuhi-san."
As he turned and disappeared into the crowd, Kimiko found herself smiling through out the rest of the celebration.
The years went by in a blur, marked by progress and change. Though Neji never took her up on her offer to spar, Kimiko never let that slow her down. She threw herself into training, pushing past the Academy's increasingly simplistic lessons. Tree walking and water walking became routine, and she seamlessly integrated them into her daily chakra control exercises alongside her origami practice.
But no matter how much effort she poured into her training, it was painfully clear—she had outgrown the Academy. Among her peers, only Sasuke kept pace, though even he had become more muted over the years, his aloofness now tinged with a cold distance that cut deeper than before, as if she was something he couldn't spend too much attention or time on.
Kimiko often wondered if the of them might have graduated early, but the Third Hokage's recent policy to prevent children from entering the battlefield too soon kept them tethered to the classroom.
Still, Kimiko wasn't one to waste time, and what truly set her apart was her rediscovery of a powerful tool: the strategic use of Shadow Clones.
The realization came during a painfully boring afternoon at the Academy. On a whim, she summoned a clone to chase Naruto and Choji during a game, and as they laughed and tumbled through the fields, a long-forgotten idea clicked into place.
Shadow Clone Training.
She remembered how the trick had been taught to Naruto years later in the canon. The ability to double—or triple—productivity by using clones to perform simultaneous tasks was, frankly, broken. The memories and experiences returned to the user upon dispelling the clones, effectively allowing someone to learn twice as fast.
There were risks, of course. Fatigue from the clones carried over, meaning too much could leave her physically or mentally drained. But the potential gains were too great to ignore.
Her first experiment was simple: she sent a single clone to the library while she attended class. The clone spent the entire day poring over books on plants and poisons, topics she'd been meaning to study more thoroughly. When she dismissed the clone that evening, the rush of new knowledge was exhilarating—though it left her feeling a bit more tired than expected.
From then on, she started using the technique sparingly but effectively. A clone might spend hours practicing kenjutsu in the empty garden at home while the real Kimiko attended the Academy. On other days, it might train in shuriken throwing, repeating precise movements until the muscle memory carried over to her real body.
She kept her efforts discreet. If anyone asked why her progress seemed so rapid, she would simply smile and credit her diligence. It was thrilling, almost intoxicating, to feel herself growing faster and stronger, as if she had twice the hours in a day.
Not everything went smoothly, though, especially when it came to discovering her elemental affinity.
"Hm," Kurenai murmured, holding a slip of wet chakra paper between her fingers. Kimiko stood before her sister, her crimson eyes fixed on the results. The memory of this exercise flashed through her mind—it was something Kakashi had done for Naruto in the original timeline to determine his chakra affinity. After pestering Kurenai for weeks, she finally found time to help her figure out hers. Now, newly promoted to jonin, Kurenai had indulged her little sister's curiosity.
"Water-natured," Kurenai concluded, her tone neutral but with a hint of surprise. A slight frown marred her features. "It's not… unheard of for someone to have a chakra nature different from their family's," she added, trying to soften the blow.
Kimiko sighed, rolling the paper between her fingers. Of course, she knew that was true, but it didn't make it any less disappointing. She suspected her chakra affinity had been influenced—perhaps disrupted—when her consciousness was thrust into this body. Both Kurenai and their father had fire-natured chakra, like most Konoha citizens. This difference meant that what little elemental jutsu their fledgling clan possessed wouldn't initially work for her.
"It doesn't matter," Kimiko declared, straightening her back. "I'll just grab a C-Ranked water jutsu from Konoha's Jutsu Archives once I save up enough mission money." Her resolve was firm, though she knew it wasn't going to be easy. Konoha's Centralized Jutsu Archives weren't free. The village purchased jutsu from clans willing to part with their techniques, though no clan ever sold its most secret or powerful jutsu. Some clans—like the Hyuga or the now-extinct Uchiha—never sold any of their jutsu at all.
Because of this, access to the archives was restricted. Genin could only peruse scrolls containing E, D, and a select few C-Rank jutsu, while chuunin gained access to more advanced techniques, including some rare B-Rank jutsu. To get what she wanted, Kimiko would need both money and a promotion. But that didn't deter her.
"Very resourceful," Kurenai remarked with a smirk, clearly pleased. "But don't forget—you're not exactly lacking in your repertoire. You've already mastered all the Basic Academy Jutsu, and both Tou-san and Hayate-kun keep bragging about your Konoha Style Kenjutsu." Her eyes sparkled with pride. "Not to mention shadow clones. And of course…" she trailed off teasingly, "the techniques I taught you."
Kimiko nodded, a small smile playing on her lips. From her sister, she'd learned the Ninja Art: Blossoming Escape, an upgraded version of the substitution jutsu. It wasn't just an escape technique; the explosion of petals served as both a distraction and a flourish, perfectly aligning with Kurenai's style.
Beyond that, Kurenai had taught her two D-Rank genjutsu. The first, Flower Petal Fragrance, filled the target's senses with an overpowering, cloying floral scent, inducing nausea and disorientation. The second, Falling Petals Illusion, created a swirling storm of petals that completely obstructed the target's vision, buying the user precious moments to attack or escape.
"They're useful," Kimiko admitted. "But I'll probably never be as good as you at genjutsu."
Kurenai smiled softly. "It's true, genjutsu isn't just about control—it's about strategy and creativity. You need to bait your opponent, trap them in layers of deception before springing your attack." She paused, assessing her younger sister with a critical but affectionate gaze. "But you're more like Tou-san in that way. You prefer direct, decisive action. It's not a flaw—it's just a different kind of strength."
Kimiko nodded again, absorbing the lesson. Her sister was right—genjutsu required a mind like Kurenai's: subtle, patient, and meticulous. Kimiko's approach to battle, while precise, was much more straightforward. She favored swift, decisive strikes over the layered intricacies of psychological warfare.
Still, the knowledge she'd gained was invaluable. Even if genjutsu would never be her specialty, it was another tool in her growing arsenal. Kurenai hummed though.
"You're pretty well-equipped, and this isn't even mentioning how massive your chakra reserves are or how good you are at using them," Kurenai remarked dryly, her tone teasing but tinged with genuine admiration. "I think, in your year, only Naruto has more chakra than you."
Kimiko nodded, her expression thoughtful. It wasn't a secret how much her chakra pathways maturing early had benefited her. Aside from possibly being the reason for her exceptional chakra control, her naturally large reserves gave her the initial boost of optimism and confidence she had so desperately needed as a young Academy student.
"Oh, and don't forget about your recent discovery," Kurenai added, a sly smirk tugging at her lips.
Kimiko couldn't help but return the smile. Her latest discovery had been nothing short of fascinating. At first, it was subtle—fleeting impressions that she had brushed off as coincidence. She would feel someone's presence moments before they appeared, sense Iruka-sensei approaching the classroom before hearing his footsteps, or instinctively know that Naruto was up to something long before he sprang into action.
But over time, as she trained and sharpened her focus, the sensation grew stronger, more deliberate. It was as though a hidden radar within her had been switched on, allowing her to pinpoint chakra signatures with increasing clarity. She found she could identify people without seeing them, simply by the unique "feel" of their chakra.
For example, her mother's chakra was faint but distinguishable—a modest ripple shaped by years of proximity to shinobi, enough to stand out against the background of non-shinobi. Her father's chakra, by contrast, was vast and unyielding, like a towering willow that had withstood the ravages of wildfire—scarred, yet resilient, and deeply rooted.
Kurenai's chakra, though smaller in reserve, was unlike any other she had encountered. It felt like a fragrant summer breeze, gentle and warm, carrying faint whispers and giggles that demanded attention. There was something enchanting about it, something that made Kimiko instinctively alert whenever her sister was near.
When Kimiko first described the sensations to Kurenai, her sister's reaction had been a mix of surprise and pride. "That means you're a sensor type, like me." Kurenai had explained, her voice calm but pleased. "Someone who can sense chakra and distinguish its unique qualities. It's a rare skill, I'm glad I'm not the only one in this family, you should leave some talent for the rest of us, though."
"So yes," said Kurenai, breaking her thoughts with a teasing smile. "You're more than qualified to graduate and become a genin. And if you decide the Regular Forces aren't for you, the Medic Corps will always welcome someone with your talent. At least as a genin, you're unlikely to face mortal danger."
Kimiko nodded absently. It was true—most genin, especially during peacetime, rarely encountered life-or-death situations. But her mind kept circling back to the exception: Naruto's class. Their lives had been anything but ordinary. Missions that stretched them beyond their limits, battles that would have broken most shinobi twice their age...
Her thoughts churned. Most shinobi quietly advanced to chunin and took desk jobs in Logistics or Education. But could she be satisfied with that? No. She couldn't see herself walking that path.
"Well, anyway," Kurenai said, ruffling her hair affectionately before disappearing in a blur of motion. "It's a moot point. Tomorrow's your final exam—get some sleep."
Kimiko stood still for a moment, letting Kurenai's words sink in. Was she ready? She had spent years training, studying, and preparing for this moment. But being ready to graduate and being ready to be a ninja were entirely different things.
Would she be able to handle the reality of missions? The thought of facing human enemies—of being expected to kill—gnawed at her. She had trained for it, mentally prepared herself, but could she truly be ready until the moment came?
No. There was no point dwelling on it. She pushed the doubts aside and went to bed.
The next day passed in a blur. The written exam was straightforward; she finished first, double-checking her answers out of habit. The practical exam came next, and her execution was just as flawless. When Iruka handed her the Konoha forehead protector, she stared at it for a moment, her crimson eyes wide with disbelief.
"Congratulations," Iruka said warmly, ruffling her hair as he tied the protector around her head. "You're tied with Sasuke-kun for top of the class."
Kimiko barely heard him. Her gaze was fixed on the forehead protector—the symbol of her achievement, of her identity as a shinobi of Konoha.
This is it, she thought. I've done it.
But then Iruka's words jolted her back. "Naruto-kun's exam?"
Iruka's expression faltered. "He went before you. He didn't pass. I'm sorry—I know you two are close."
Kimiko's heart clenched. Of course. She knew what would happen next—Mizuki would use Naruto's failure to manipulate him into stealing the Forbidden Scroll which contained the Multi Shadow Clone Jutsu, Naruto's signature jutsu alongside the Rasengan. As much as it pained her, she couldn't interfere. That moment was crucial for Naruto's growth. Naruto and Iruka' cemented their bond.
"I'm going to find him," she lied, smiling tightly at Iruka before darting out of the room. Instead of searching for Naruto, she headed to the rooftops, her chakra boosting her leaps.
The wind whipped through her thick black hair as she soared over the village, her crimson eyes scanning the horizon. Her heart thudded with exhilaration—she had done it. She was free. Free to begin the next chapter of her journey, to forge her own path, and to fulfill the promises she had made to herself.
She landed on a rooftop, gazing out at the sprawling village below. The weight of her forehead protector was a reminder of the responsibility she now carried.
This is just the beginning.