Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

My life sucks.

Well, it did even before I ended up in this weird predicament, but now it really really—like, phenomenally—sucks.

There's no easy way to say this other than to just put it right out there.

I died.

In an incredibly stupid way, too, from what I can remember.

Everyone always warns you about stress, you know? Don't push yourself too hard, take care of yourself, get some rest when you need it, et cetera. But those people are the ones who have easy lives or just insanely positive outlooks on everything, or are the ones lucky enough not to be stressed out when they give the advice.

Try not being stressed out just a few short hours before the deadline of your graduation project to earn your very first bachelor's degree. All of your paperwork has already been filled out, submitted, approved by the department heads without a doubt and it's smooth sailing—but only in the event that you complete all of your work and earn passing grades before classes officially end. Anything less, and you're shit out of luck; go back to start and try again.

That was my situation during the unfairly early hours of a random, unimportant Thursday morning—Thursday, of all days—just two hours past midnight. The presentation would mean the end of my life if I didn't finish it on time and submit it, along with the grossly long essay that detailed its progress, before my capstone class began, because it consisted of half of the entire grade and there was a zero-tolerance policy for lateness.

Procrastination was probably what killed me, now that I think about it in hindsight.

But, in short, spurred on by the fear of having wasted my entire college career and facing the failure of obtaining a much sought-after diploma—one of my dreams—because scholarships were no longer an option with my track record of credits and I was too dirt-poor to pay for further education out of my own pocket, I made a mistake.

The mistake that cost me my life.

I was rushing around, not paying attention to anything but graduating university, and slipped on the goddamn printouts scattered all across my bedroom floor. Hit my head on the corner of my desk.

Blunt force trauma to the head is a quick way to go.

At least, that's how it had to have happened. My memory's pretty much a blank after the moment I slipped and the only memento I have left from the occurrence is a remarkably tender scalp.

And a second chance at life.

But...considering the circumstances, it's more of a curse than a gift.

I was a grown woman, once—sure, I was immature and bratty and probably never would be a proper, responsible adult, but now I'm a little girl by the name of Rika.

Uchiha Rika.

And Itachi is my younger, distant cousin, by something like a year or two—whatever the technicalities are, it's as good as a death sentence. Like, really, could there ever be a bigger absolute fuck-you from the universe? I wouldn't even get close to old enough to legally drink or do all those fun adult things again.

Somewhere up there, the gods are laughing.

It was hard to come to terms with, at first. But eventually I decided that, if I'm living on borrowed time anyway, I might as well make the best of it and do my damnedest to send the ones responsible for my reincarnation the metaphorical bird, too, everyday, up to the inevitable Fated Day.

Then, if my karma isn't too bad, as soon as I die (for the second time) I'll be reborn into my original world where I belong. Maybe get to see my family again, if I make it before they pass away. Apologize to all of my friends for being such a stressed-out, waspish bitch during finals week. Pet my dogs again and tell them I'm sorry I didn't play fetch with them as much as they wanted.

Until then, I'll live my new life however I want, doing whatever I want, because when death is a certainty—and soon—there's no more time to waste.

Even if it all just sucks, it doesn't mean I don't get to enjoy the ride.

Chapter Text

I'm pretty sure I was a good kid, at least once upon a time, but for Emiko and Satoshi—my second parents—I was one-hundred percent convinced I was a veritable nightmare of a six-year-old. An absolute terror.

I drove them up the wall and I had fun doing it.

Well, except for the times when Emiko reached her limits and hauled me up onto her lap to beat my ass red.

They were good people, just a little frayed at the edges from having a wild, freewheeling daughter that had little regard for social etiquette and authority. I felt for them, really. But not enough to become the quiet, composed, polite, respectful, intelligent—the list went on, and on, courtesy Mama Emiko—child they wished they had.

It was probably because I was such an enormous handful that they never tried for more kids.

But, hey, being an only child wasn't so bad. It was new. It was nice. I didn't have an annoying older brother trying to drown me in the swimming pool for fun every single damn summer anymore!

Well, I did have something of an older brother in this life, but I'll get to that later.

About Emiko and Satoshi, though—they were both Uchiha, born and raised. Naturally pretty, just like most of the people from this godforsaken clan tend to be, but also a little weird and uptight, too, mostly because of the village politics.

Being Uchiha was no walk in the park.

Satoshi often complained to Emiko about what kinds of topics and arguments arose during clan meetings, how the village viewed them (which wouldn't get any better after Kyuubi's attack, I knew), what the Hokage should or shouldn't do, and how newly-appointed head Fugaku-sama was too lenient or strict regarding this or that policy, yada yada. Daddy was very much pro-Uchiha, being a part of the council that met often, but he was also strongly opinionated.

He worked in the Police Station with a good deal of the other Uchiha adults.

Emiko, when not over-agitated and forced to transform into a fearsome demon to maintain order in the household (again, mainly my doing), was a kind, but not overly sweet, woman. She valued hard work and didn't confine herself to being only a housewife. Her occupation was the neighborhood seamstress, handling the production of new, bland, ugly high-collared clothing for the majority of the district's population and taking care of small rips and tears that needed mending.

She was lucky I wasn't a bad hand at sewing myself, and actually enjoyed it quite a bit in my former life, otherwise when she asked me to help her it would have only caused more stress.

But she quickly learned about my dislike for the gloomy, deep and dark monotony of the "Uchiha uniform" when I sneakily weaved a rainbow of colorful threads into the clothing seams and that was the end of that.

Even though I acted like a teenager in the midst of a rebellious phase most of the time, I liked Emiko and Satoshi. They were good parents. They treated me well despite it all.

I was the only child they'd ever known—their own child, in their eyes—so I figured I owed them that much, because it was a possibility they would never have any more, being that the clan's demise was barely a decade away.

The clan's fall.

Itachi was currently four years old—if my memory wasn't faulty, he would end up eradicating the clan, including me, when he was thirteen. At least, sometime after he was inducted into ANBU. Only Sasuke, currently unborn but soon to be, would remain alive.

If I'd wanted, I could try to stop it. Influence Itachi, warn Shisui somehow and keep Danzo from interfering, throw a big huge tantrum in the middle of Konoha and scream about corrupt, foul play that would lead to murder and hard feelings and all kinds of tragedy, but...

I really didn't want to. Why burden myself with something like that when it would all turn out the way it should in the end? This story already had its beginning and its end set. I knew that the main cast would handle everything and, when all was said and done, they would know exactly what to do.

Call me a fatalist, but I trusted them. It wasn't my timeline to interrupt. I was only visiting.

Besides, there were so many more things to do than wear my conscience thin with savior complexes and grandiose visions.

Konoha was an interesting place, full of interesting characters—people.

I wanted to try becoming one of them before I died, because no one would remember me anyway.

But not through becoming a shinobi, no, that life was wrought with death, and I didn't want to cut mine any shorter than it already was. It wasn't a world I wanted to set foot in.

There were other ways to leave my mark.

"One fish, two fish..."

To anyone watching the scene from afar, it probably would have seemed like a cute little girl was passing the time playing by the riverside barefoot on her own, singing and not causing harm or damage to anyone or anything. The Naka River that cut through the clan property was a popular spot for recreation, after all. No one ever thought to look twice when people were congregated there or just hanging idly by.

But if they stopped to look just a little closer, they would have seen a makeshift tree branch fishing rod clutched between my chubby, dirt-covered hands, tied at the end with some of Satoshi's ninja wire that was in turn attached to one of Emiko's sturdy, curved upholstery needles. I was pretty proud of the thing—neither of the folks had a fishing hobby so I had to improvise, and it worked pretty damn well, considering.

I'd dug up a handful of wriggling earthworms for the activity, too, for bait, because there wasn't a decent fishing shop anywhere in the whole damn town who would sell a confrontational haggler of a child any proper equipment. I had the ryou—I mean, I had Satoshi's ryou, but the old shopkeeper refused no matter what and ran me out of the shop when I started cussing.

In the end, this is what it came to. But the koi sure were biting.

Three! There were three koi in the little yellow bucket I carried with me specifically for the task—Emiko said it was for the sandbox they'd recently installed in the local park, but that just sounded so boring. Who needed kiddy sandboxes when there was a perfectly abundant river in the district? Maybe I'd wrangle up a whole group of the neighborhood kids and start a fishing club, because even if they wanted to become shinobi, fishing was a skill that benefited anyone, anywhere!

The line tugged, and with one swift jerk, I reeled in another catch.

I dropped the flailing, slimy koi into the bucket with the others and grinned before speaking out my pride in the somewhat mangled Japanese my young self had managed to learn. "Wouldja look at that, I'm pro!" The words and pronunciations still felt heavy on my tongue, because I was never that proficient with the language before despite trying my best to learn (again, procrastination), so I tended to use simplistic terms. And as for writing it? Emiko practically broke down in tears when she did her best to teach me and it just didn't take easily. But she kept on, like a champ, and I think it became her life mission to turn me articulate and literate.

But, at least I had fishing. Some skills never left even when one passed between the threshold of life and death. Even if that skill was mostly dumb luck.

"Hey, what are you doing there...? Rika?"

The voice was familiar—I'd only met the man twice before because of Satoshi's position on the clan council, but it was most definitely Fugaku. Clan Head and Police Chief—as well as Sasuke and Itachi's good ol' dad—himself, probably on a patrolling round when he'd caught sight of me and got suspicious. His tone was weary, and a little forced, as if he were afraid what he'd find out. But with my track record, he was right to be.

I slapped my brightest, toothiest, kiddiest smile onto my face as I heaved the yellow bucket into my arms and held it up towards the older Uchiha to proudly exhibit the results of my conquest, because it was pretty impressive in all actuality. "Fishin'! See! I caught this many, Fugaku-sama!"

Fugaku's stern, but slightly curious, expression soured over into something shocked and simultaneously disgusted as he spotted the fish flopping around in the bucket, helpless and gaping for air. He was so taken aback he even stepped back, jaw hanging open in surprise because, really, what kind of six-year-old Uchiha kid would think to do something like that?

Only me, Uchiha Rika, the Problem Child of the Entire Clan—self-proclaimed title.

The man sputtered for a moment, briefly mirroring the breathless fish as he strained to find a response, and if I didn't know better I'd think he choked on air, too. But as soon as the shock passed, his composed, authoritative expression was back in place. "Rika," he began, doing his best to keep his tone level and not-so-harsh because I was just an innocent little kid who oh-so-obviously didn't know better and was, all things considered, not very smart, "you can't fish here."

Oh, boy, he was really trying his hardest not to lose his cool. There was a telltale pulsing nerve near his temple and a twitch in his jaw. He sure got lucky, having good, well-behaved kids like Itachi and Sasuke.

"You mean it's not legal? Am I gonna get arrested?"

"...No, but. Put—just put them back."

I could all but hear the gritting of teeth. Maybe today was the day the clan leader would actually lose his cool and lecture me into next week just like Satoshi said he would. He came damn near close when I accidentally bleached almost all of the council's clothes (seriously, it was an accident, because Emiko kept the cleaning supplies in basically identical containers. Who did that?).

At least I was a perfect example of how not to let your kids act.

"Why?" My grin stretched further, and I was sure I was like a Cheshire Cat. Being a kid again was the best thing ever.

"Because, Rika, you can't fish here." Had to hand it to him, he really tried to have the patience of a saint. "Those koi are ornamental—for decoration only. Not sport." Even going so far as to explain to me just what was wrong here instead of outright reprimanding me despite the fact he probably hated me.

Emiko and Satoshi could learn a thing or two from him.

When I didn't move, he reached for the yellow bucket—and I quickly held it away and narrowed my eyes. "I'm gonna eat 'em."

"Koi don't taste very good, Rika—" Finally, his nerves were beginning to fray. He crossed his arms and stood tall, parent-mode on, just daring me to keep up the innocent kid act when he knew I knew better. "If you don't put them back I'll have to tell your parents about this."

"But fish filets—"

"Rika!"

Ah, that voice, my saving grace—or more like my clean-up crew. I ignored Fugaku in favor of the new arrival, my worrywart cousin and surrogate big brother because he didn't have any siblings either, Uchiha Shisui. I grinned again and waved frantically, cheerfully, doing my best to balance the heavy bucket with only one arm as the contents sloshed and came close to dripping on Clan Leader's shoes.

"Shisui! Hey, come look!"

In spite of my excitement, poor guy looked downright frazzled because I'd gone and landed myself in another mess, this time with Fugaku, of all people. He was only a year my senior but already acted so much older and responsible, quite possibly thanks to me.

I was pretty sure he'd have stress lines by the time he was a teenager.

Shisui quickly assessed the situation and looked nearly as gobsmacked as Police Chief had been when he realized what the issue was. "Rika..." he held out his hands for the bucket imploringly, putting on his best Mom Face—at least that's what it looked like, when he got all serious on me. "You can't fish here. Let's throw them back in, okay?"

I just couldn't have any fun when he looked so troubled. Made me feel a little guilty.

"'Kay. Be free!" Instead of handing the bucket over like he asked, I dumped the contents into the river and watched the four koi flounder about before getting their bearings and swimming away with the current. Then I turned back to the two stick-in-the-mud Uchiha and prepared to state a complaint—but a hand pressed against the back of my head (ow ow ow didn't I mention my scalp was super sensitive?! Some people just didn't care) and forced me into a stooping bow.

Jerk.

"She didn't mean any trouble, Fugaku-sama," came Shisui's voice as he bowed beside me, like a partner in crime, apologizing in my stead. "And she won't do it again. Right, Rika?" I felt, rather than saw, his eyes slide towards me and stare, putting on the pressure.

I shrugged. "I won't."

The hand on my head slipped away, leaving my hair feeling slightly mussed (but it was unruly anyway, often sticking out to the sides in a weird spiky, fanned way so it didn't matter), and I quickly straightened my back to stare up at Fugaku, putting on my best, most charming smile.

The man eyed us both critically for a moment, wondering just how he should react, but in the end he only breathed out a deep sigh and shook his head, probably just glad the ordeal was over. "Alright. I'll take your word for it." His gaze met mine, and while exasperated, it wasn't particularly pissed. Bet he still didn't like me, though. "You're lucky you have someone like Shisui here to look out for you, Rika."

He was damn straight. Shisui was so good at smoothing over bad situations that he could probably get me out of jail free—if I ever needed it. With the added bonus that he was practically Itachi's BFF and already had good standing with Fugaku here as well as the great majority of the clan... unlike me. The kid was going places.

Well...they weren't necessarily good places, considering how his life would end. But he was someone to be proud of, at the very least.

As soon as Fugaku left us and continued on his patrol route, I was left to deal with Shisui, who was in full-out mom mode, hands on his hips, dark eyes narrowed and everything, the whole nine yards. He looked a little like Emiko when he did that, even, because we were related from her side of the family—and because they were both pretty, even when mad, and even with his chubby, harmless kiddy face.

Emiko and Shisui's dad Kou were both Kagami's kids; we were first cousins. But everyone in the clan was related somehow or another except for the rare few that married in from outside the clan (and all outsiders married in no matter what because of some stiff, prestigious clan rule, so there were no stray bloodlines wandering out beyond the district and everyone could be kept track of easily. Control freak much?)—I was pretty sure Fugaku was our distant cousin, too because of something Satoshi once said. It was all kind of inbred in one way or another but no one really ever mentioned that.

Clan purity was a scary thing.

"Rika...did you take those without asking?" He pointed to the fishing rod, but more specifically, to the ninja wire and sewing needle, and frowned.

"Yeah?" As if he even needed to ask—Emiko and Satoshi learned the hard way that they had to keep basically every single little thing out of my reach because I'd only use them to terrorize the neighborhood or something without their supervision. Like the time I ran around the district with Emiko's undergarments on my head.

A grimace overtook his face at my blunt response and he sighed, looking as if he wanted to cradle his head in his hands and cry. "That's no good, Rika. You know Auntie Emiko and Uncle Satoshi will get upset."

"I'm not stupid, Shisui. I know. Just was bored is all." Being a six-year-old was fun, to an extent, but having to uphold the attitude of one publicly was a pain in the ass sometimes, especially when I wasn't that great at speaking the language yet. Everyone thought I was a moron, or just too naïve, or reckless, never thinking things through, seeking attention—like a Naruto or something, even though he wasn't born yet. They didn't know I was mentally probably the same age as most of the younger adults in the village and I was working on completing my newly-revised bucket list.

They didn't know what I knew.

I picked up the silly-looking fishing rod and shoved it towards his chest so he could confiscate it, like he usually did. He had to have a treasure trove of the many things he'd taken from me, somewhere. Hell, he could have returned most of it to their rightful places for all I knew. "It's no crime—is it?"

Maybe fishing for koi in the Naka River was something like destruction of property, actually.

No one really did eat them, after all—Fugaku was right.

"Dunno." Shisui set the fishing rod over his shoulder and shrugged. Well, I guess he didn't know everything, since he was only seven. "But, anyway, Auntie wanted me to find you and bring you back for dinner. Let's go." A smile spread across his face as he nodded his head towards the main street. Even if he was bothered by my bad habits, he never held it against me.

A few days after this little incident occurred, the police department went to great lengths to post boldly-lettered "NO FISHING" signs along the riverside.

I was pretty sure it wasn't a coincidence.

Chapter Text

It was a normal day in the household of Uchiha Emiko and Satoshi.

And by normal, it was meant that everyone in the immediate proximity could hear me starting up a racket and pissing off my mom first thing in the morning.

"I don't wanna go the ninja Academy! Can't make me!"

"Why? Rika, it's what every child does, and it's what your father wants," Emiko stated matter-of-factly, hands on her hips. Yeah, and I'm pretty sure dear old Dad wanted me to be born a son like Shisui, too. "I just can't understand why you won't do what we ask—are you embarrassed of your language skills? They're getting better every day!"

"No?! Hah, I talk good!" I threw out my hands in a shrug before crossing my arms defiantly, refusing to change out of my little frilly pink nightgown (had to admit, Emiko dressed me up pretty cute) and into proper outerwear for the trip to the Academy.

The entrance ceremony was scheduled for today and Satoshi and Emiko had been planning for me to enroll since three months ago when I turned six. They just couldn't understand why I was so against it. I mean, I was pretty sure Emiko was capable of homeschooling me either way—and I didn't care for becoming a shinobi at all. I couldn't understand why they couldn't understand.

"Don't wanna go is all."

At first, Emiko always tried the gentle approach, even if her expression was strained. "I promise the evaluation won't be something difficult, Rika. If there's a written test, it'll be easy! No kanji at all—you know most of your hiragana and some katakana. And you can speak well enough to get by for your age!" She held out a plum-colored dress with the Uchiha crest printed on the front and smiled kindly, as if she wasn't cornering me at the end of the hallway and trying to force my hand. "Shisui goes there, too, you know. You won't even be alone. You two can even walk to school together when you get accepted."

Yeah, and he wouldn't be there for much longer, probably. Even if he acted like a totally normal—well, over-responsible—kid around me, he was talented and intelligent. He'd graduate and become a genin just as soon as I started classes, probably, and leave me in the dust. Then, Itachi would enroll when he was five or six and I'd become known as the unskilled loser of an Uchiha who was no good at ninja stuff.

Nah, I wasn't afraid of being teased by the other students for my Japanese skills that left much to be desired—I was just totally unwilling to live in those two's shadows since I wouldn't put any effort into learning anyway.

I knew I was being a brat but the hell with it!

"Bribery." To my credit, I could at least pick up a few useful words from Satoshi's heated summaries and criticisms concerning the clan meetings. Even if I couldn't use them in a proper sentence most of the time.

"Rika..."

"Look, you can't make me, okay?"

"Oh you wanna bet?"

"I'm not goin' anywhere, Emiko! You're not my mom!"

Even if it was half true, that was the wrong thing to say—especially calling her by her first name. Emiko flipped her switch and engaged in full-out demon mom mode, and if I knew what a threatening chakra flare felt like I was certain it would be the thing that caused me to break out in a nervous sweat and try to disappear into the wall while questioning my entire life's choices because her glare was terrifying.

I was gonna die!

Again!

...But in reality, two minutes later, I found myself fully-dressed, dark hair combed neatly (aside from the way the layers habitually fanned out awkwardly to the sides), with my hand gripped in an iron hold as Emiko ruthlessly dragged me out of the district and down the street towards the Academy.

Damn.

The old lady was right. The entrance evaluation was easy. So easy, in fact, that my pride hardly allowed me to flunk something even a five year old could ace. Even if it landed me in the last place I wanted to be.

All the kids there just looked so damn happy to get the chance to become little killing machines. I didn't really get it. Why were such violent, dangerous occupations glorified? If they were lucky, they'd live long enough to have a family, but even then was it even worth it when they would probably die during a mission anyway? Maybe it was to become strong; to protect what they loved. But that wasn't something they could do if they kicked the bucket.

Well. In their defense, they probably weren't thinking about something like this in the long run. Konoha was a ninja village, after all—becoming shinobi was just sort of what everyone did.

I wasn't sure about the village's economy, but I was pretty sure the job paid well enough to live super comfortably, too.

But no one really wanted for much in the Uchiha clan either way, so there wasn't anyone to compare that assumption to.

Oh well—whatever it was, by the time graduation rolled around, me and half of my class would be dropouts anyway. Not everyone was made to be a shinobi.

Even so, Satoshi was over the moon when he heard the news that I'd become a student at the Academy. He was so overjoyed, in fact, that he immediately wanted to start me on the beloved katon jutsus the clan was known for, and the idea was just all kinds of bad. Come on, Satoshi, who in their right mind would let a kid learn to play with something so dangerous?

I swear, the man fostered some huge delusion that I was going to sprout into this Sharingan-wielding genius kunoichi one day and he believed it was his duty to prepare me for that.

The only thing I ended up doing was catching the kitchen table on fire. And that mishap wasn't even thanks to a technique.

"Come on, Rika, the hand seals aren't that hard to learn. See?" Satoshi entwined his fingers together to demonstrate, speaking the name for each seal as they were formed as we sat across the table from each other (it got replaced). "Snake, Ram, Monkey, Boar, Horse, Tiger."

He may as well have been rapping at me for all I knew. Six hand seals—six? I could barely even form the most basic one yet! And out of all of them, the Horse seal looked almost impossible for my stubby little fingers. Not only that, but he didn't even tell me what jutsu these seals were for—probably the Fireball, but who knew.

I wish I could say that I could just cop out on it all and claim I couldn't manipulate chakra at all whatsoever, but Daddy here was a sensory-nin and he was smart enough to know I'd be lying. And he'd started teaching me how to handle chakra since they'd decided to send me to school. He was smart, that Satoshi.

Too bad I was a genius at being stubborn.

"I can't do that."

"What? Of course you can. Look, watch again." He repeated the hand seals, a little slower than before.

"Are you crazy?"

"Rika..."

Unlike his wife, Satoshi was more passive with my upbringing and only got his authority involved when something I did concerned ninja training. Otherwise, when I got in trouble, he only gave me a slap on the wrist and a short lecture because Emiko's rage was something to be reckoned with and he probably figured I suffered enough punishment already. Typical good cop, bad cop routine.

Oh, and he literally was a cop.

"Just try it, okay? If you do, on my way home tomorrow, I'll bring you something nice from the bakery."

He was also the one who bribed me with cakes and candies.

"...'Kay. Deal."

Halfway through the seal set he'd assigned, I ended up getting a cramp in my pinky.

"Ugh, I told you! Impossible!" I waved my arms about to get the feeling back into them, scowling, and let them drop like dead weight on the tabletop along with my head. I wasn't even pretending—it was getting on my nerves. Why couldn't I just be like a normal civilian kid whose parents didn't want me to become some great, legendary ninja? Or at least on Shisui's level. It was no mystery that Dad was only doing his best to train me up because there was some sort of unspoken competition going on between him and Kou. Now that Shisui and I were both Academy kids, it was a game of who graduated first and whose family would produce the best pint-sized shinobi.

Who knew that even ninjas got caught up in mundane things like keeping up with the Joneses? Or keeping up with the Uchihas, rather.

In any case, Shisui and Kou were going to win, hands down.

Satoshi ignored my dramatics and hummed quietly. "I don't think it's impossible." There was a sudden smugness in his tone.

I glanced up to see he'd crossed his arms and was studying me from the corners of his dark eyes doubtfully. New approach, hm?

"I think, maybe, you're just a chicken."

Now he'd gotten my attention—and he knew it. But, calling me a chicken? Of all things? Hah! Once I found out where the clan kept the coops I'd show him just what a chicken was! I'll turn his bedroom into an animal farm!

"Am not."

"Are you sure? It's perfectly fine to be afraid of fire. I mean, for most people."

"Afraid? I'm not afraid of nothin'!" I was well aware he was stooping to such a low, immature level because he knew it would get my goat, but—damn, did it piss me off! Who liked being called a chicken, really? No one. "I can do it. Just watch."

I straightened my back and held my arms out in front of me before running through the Fireball's required seals one more time.

"The Boar seal doesn't look like that."

He interrupted me and my fingers tangled together, ruining whatever I'd been trying to form next, just before I was done! Satoshi was a cool guy, but he could be a real jerk and my temper was already past boiling point because why did he care so much about whether or not I became a shinobi? He didn't even care if I didn't want to follow that path! It was all about his stupid competition!

I had a special one-finger hand seal that summed up my feelings on the matter, just for him. "Oh yeah? Then, this is right?"

"Rika!"

Jeez, did Emiko have the worst timing.

But, on the bright side, because she'd caught me flipping Satoshi the bird, she had me pulling so many weeds from the front garden that I couldn't physically perform any more hand seals for a week.

Chapter Text

Okay—I'll admit one thing. Learning how to be a ninja was actually, like, crazy cool. The sky was pretty much the limit with techniques and other various specialties, and if you were good at moulding and balancing your chakra output appropriately you were guaranteed to be a success. With the proper guidance, of course.

Learning about Konoha's and the Ninja World's history was actually interesting, too. Everything was so much more in-depth than what was briefly given in the manga and for a passing moment—but only, like, one teeny-tiny second—I actually thought that maybe I did want to try for the rank of genin. Given my lineage and my current level of intelligence (even despite my bad handle on the local language), it would probably be cake. Maybe I actually could keep up with Shisui and Itachi instead of hanging back on the sidelines, and end up doing something that would make Satoshi and Emiko proud.

But, unfortunately, laziness and unwillingness that could give Shikamaru a run for his money won out in the end and the idea no longer sounded quite so appealing.

Nah. It just wasn't the life for me.

Plus, my classmates were all beyond annoying and they tried to actually become friends with me. I would have skipped classes if I had the option to do so, but the first time I did it and succeeded, Emiko immediately found out and made me de-weed the garden again. After yelling my ear off.

I didn't have many options left. So, to keep the kids off my back, I took to chasing them all around outside during recess while making ultra-threatening, slobbery kissy-faces. They were mortified.

"Run! It's Cootie Rika!"

When one shrieked it, they all scattered.

In my class year, there were about five civilian or clanless kids, a Hyuuga, three unidentifiable Uchiha cousins, a couple of Naras, and a Yamanaka or two, going by clan crests and appearances. No interesting canon characters at all, unfortunately. I really would have liked to traumatize some, if only just a little.

And you know what? I was really good at cornering them all and smacking kisses right on their fat little cheeks.

It earned me the reputation of creepy cootie-girl Rika and three hours of time-out in the corner during lessons, but it was totally worth it. They never bothered me again. Not for a while, at least. I mean, kids tended to wander back to things like moths to a flame.

"Rika, what did you do now?"

Naturally, word got out to Shisui and he brought up the topic while we were walking back to the clan district after school. We walked together to and from, just like Emiko said we could, and Itachi would be joining us sooner or later—and it could very well end up being Itachi and I alone walking together if Shisui graduated soon. How awkward.

Unlike Shisui, I hadn't really had the chance to interact with Itachi much yet aside from the time when the council threw Fugaku a congratulatory celebration for becoming the new leader and pretty much the whole neighborhood was invited. Didn't get much of an impression from the kid other than we were practically polar opposites, but I'd already known that much.

Wonder how he'd react to being kissed on the cheek.

"I didn't do 'nything, Shisui," I grinned, nudging at an abandoned tin can sitting in the road with my shoe as we walked.

"I really doubt that. I'm pretty sure Cootie Rika has to be you," he said pointedly. "There's not another Rika in the school." Quick to catch on, as always—didn't I mention he was smart? I kicked the can towards him and he intercepted it, momentarily distracted, but not distracted enough to just let the subject go. "Going around k-kissing your classmates isn't a good way to make friends, you know. I mean, would you like it if someone did that to you?"

He passed the can back in my direction and I stopped, stepping on it to keep it from moving, then rolled my eyes. "Ha, who needs friends? Am fine without 'em. Plus, 's not like anyone'd have the guts to do the same to me. They're all babies. You're a baby, Shisui." I pushed my foot against the can, rolling it back at him. When it rolled and clanked past him and he didn't make any move to catch it, I knew I'd said the wrong thing.

Shisui had stopped in the middle of the road just a few paces back and there was a confrontational vibe about him. His arms were crossed, his brow was furrowed and his lips were set in a frowny little pout. Oh, and he was glaring—it was the first time I'd seen him so upset, since he usually fretted and worried instead. Sometimes I forgot he actually was a little kid who could have his ego bruised.

"I'm not a baby, Rika."

"Coulda fooled me."

"Take it back."

"No waaay." I waved my hand dismissively and stuck out my tongue.

"You know, you can get pretty arrogant sometimes, Rika." Now, he set his hands on his hips. "I think you need some payback." Slowly, his stern expression brightened into a mischievous grin. "Like, a taste of your own medicine!"

"No way, you're not gonna!" I put my hands on my hips, too, and stared him down, just daring him to call his bluff. Trying to teach me a lesson, was he? Well, so could I.

"You bet I am! Watch out, Rika, here comes Cootie Shisui!" And with that, he lunged for me while making an exaggerated kissy-face.

"That—that doesn't even make sense!" I backpedaled away just in time and then prepared to turn tail and run. I remembered a little too late that this was the guy who'd later be known as Shisui of the Body Flicker—I just hoped he wasn't fast enough to catch me now. "Don't try it!"

"Oh? You scared? Just who's the baby now, huh?"

"I ain't scared of nothin'! I just don't want your gross germs!"

He made another grab for me but missed (only because I half-tripped in an attempt to escape), and then the chase was on. And damn it all if he wasn't fast, too. My stubby legs could barely work fast enough to keep me in the lead.

"I'm serious! Stop it! Gonna tell Uncle Kou on you!" I yelled back as he tailed me across one of the bridges over the Naka River. If he kept it up I'd push him into the damn thing. Oh, wait—on second thought, that was a bit too cruel.

"Just what are you gonna tell him?"

"That you're an idiot!" When there wasn't a response, I got really uneasy. And, when I glanced back, I found out he was gone. Gone! Just like that! No way, no way, there's no way he knew how to use the Body Flicker technique already, was there? At only seven?

I halted in my tracks, and the moment I did, it was a big mistake—just what he wanted and I fell right for it.

Not even a second later I was ambushed, grabbed around the sides and hoisted into the air, then spun around in a dizzy circle before being let go way too suddenly. I stumbled on my feet and toppled over onto the ground, face-first, while that moron laughed and giggled at my misfortune.

"I was only kidding, Rika. Here."

When I looked up, his hand was held out towards me to help me up—but the look on his face when his eyes met mine was anything but amused. He looked suddenly horrified, pale as a ghost and I had no idea why until I felt a sticky warmth drip down over my mouth from my nose and then splat grossly on the ground. Shisui's hand faltered before he pulled it back and began to frantically search his pockets for something—probably a tissue or handkerchief. Oh, he was sweating. Emiko wouldn't be happy that I got hurt under his watch, nope.

In a way, payback was sweet.

I grinned despite my bloody nose. "You're screwed!"

"Don't—don't say that, Rika!" Finally, he found a little square cloth of material and quickly held it up against my face before helping me up and rushing the both of us home.

For once, I wasn't the one who got yelled at.

Satoshi never did give up on teaching me all of the clan's amazing fire jutsus. But, instead of taking it on himself, he graciously allowed Uncle Kou to lend a hand since he was in the middle of teaching Shisui the techniques as well. Two birds with one stone, or something.

Whatever his intention was, it was a huge pain for me.

Uncle Kou was... well, there's no light way to say it. He was weird. Loud and exuberant for an Uchiha—which was really saying something since mostly everyone was reserved and traditional, but every family had its black sheep—and super doting towards both his son and me. But, since our families were so close (we literally lived next door to each other), Shisui and I may as well have had three parents. In a way, since Kou was his only living caretaker, Emiko could be considered his mom because the whole family was super-involved in child-rearing. In fact, the entire neighborhood took care of everybody in it and all the children were sort of raised by everyone, to an extent. Even me, but I was super unpopular and most of the adults did their best to stay away from me and keep their kids out of my range of influence. On the flipside, Shisui was a constant presence because Satoshi and Emiko thought his upright behavior would somehow influence me.

No luck there.

Kou, like Shisui and Emiko, had that sort of soft, fluffy hair that originated from Kagami, but the man wore his long and unruly and—unbrushed, I was sure, to where it made him look like a kind of maniac in a damn-near Madara-esque way. But it fit his image.

I guess I was pretty lucky to have inherited the straighter kind of Uchiha hair from Satoshi, even if it still had a mind of its own.

But, hair aside, I wondered just how Shisui turned out to be such a well-mannered kid when his dad was so wild. There was barely ever a time when Kou wasn't smiling or grinning or cracking a joke, bragging—I was pretty sure he was drunk a good deal of the time, too, because I'd seen Satoshi (who, despite their one-sided competitions, was actually like a blood brother to him) half-dragging, half-carrying him home at night a few times before—and he was even beyond excited when he had to handle teaching two little kids how to play with fire.

Overall, he was pretty much like an overgrown child.

Actually, Shisui was probably so responsible because he had to be. And Emiko was probably the way she was because of her brother, too.

...I wondered if people ever thought Kou might have been my real dad and Shisui and I got switched when we were young, or something.

"Hey, hey, kids, you watching? This is the clan's renowned Grand Fireball jutsu—you're watching, right?" Kou cast me and Shisui a quick glance to check, for the third time, that we were in fact paying him our complete attention, and, once he was positively sure he had an audience, he swiftly ran through the six hand seals Satoshi had been teaching me before breathing in deeply and then exhaling a blazing stream of flames that rolled into a large sphere, bright enough to bask the entire, dusky forest clearing in a warm, hot light.

Damn it all if it wasn't impressive—not even Satoshi could produce one that looked that awesome. It was like a tiny star!

"Whoa! Uncle Kou, you're on fire!" I couldn't properly convey my astonishment into words with my limited vocabulary, so I had to settle for an odd phrase. But he accepted the praise without questioning it.

"I know, right?" He crouched down beside me and Shisui and set his hands on top of our heads to (roughly, but fondly) ruffle our hair. "So, who wants to give it a whirl first?"

After being released from the vertigo-inducing gesture that left us both with crazy bedhead, I pressed my hands on Shisui's back and pushed him forwards. "Shisui does!"

"Aw, come on, Rika...shouldn't it be ladies first?" He glanced over his shoulder sheepishly, and for a moment I wondered if he was shy. I'd never seen him in ninja-mode before and he'd never shown me what he learned during his training—I never thought it was anything strange, before, but the fact that he was so reluctant was a little adorable.

"Not a lady. I'm six."

Didn't mean I would let him have his way, though.

"But—"

Kou quickly intervened. "Here's an idea. Why don't you both show me your hand seals? Whoever has the best ones can go first. Everybody wins!"

Turned out I'd actually become better at switching between hand seals than cousin dearest from my numerous attempts to show-up Satoshi. Kou even had to correct him on a couple. No wonder he was embarrassed. He was barely trying! Guess he was still a year or so away from being one of the most talented members of the clan.

"Rika, then! Satoshi said he's been training you. Have you tried this before? "

"Only once. Not allowed to use any flames in the house. Or near the house. Or in the neighborhood."

For a minute, Kou actually looked caught off-guard, and frowned with uncertainty. But that didn't last long and he was back to his usual hyperness, grinning maybe a bit too mischievously. "Ah...well! That's why we're out here in the forest away from trees and buildings so nothing will catch fire! So, don't hold back, alright? Give it your best shot!"

"'Kay, Uncle Kou."

The formulation of fire-natured jutsus was trippy. When the hand seals were performed correctly and chakra was moulded properly, a warm, searing sensation coiled upwards from the chest where the chakra circuits originated and rose to the mouth, where it would exit as a burning flame once it mixed with the great amount of inhaled oxygen. So, with the development of a chakra circuit, people in this world were able to create fire from within the body and spit it out at enemies, like mini-dragons.

Weird as hell, I tell you.

"Here I go!" I twisted my fingers through the six required hand seals and gulped in a huge lungful of air before exhaling it all out quickly with a whoosh.

It burned. It was hot hot hot—so, so, almost painfully hot, that I was sure it cracked the skin around my mouth and dried out my lips but it was so damn liberating. It was big and bright and the flames swirled around so intensely before they swelled into an over-sized balloon of a fireball that set the night ablaze.

I was pretty sure this was what it felt like to be a mini-dragon. I could take on the world with it! No wonder Uchihas were so arrogant and proud.

Once my lungs were emptied and the fire extinguished itself, I saw that the grass beneath the technique was slightly charred. The first time I tried, under Satoshi's supervision, I hadn't made nearly as much progress. Probably because I'd been doing my best to irritate him and get him to just give up, not giving it my all.

"Whoaaa!"

Shisui and Kou clapped and cheered after the flames died away.

"Atta girl, Rika! See, it's not so hard, you're a natural!"

"Ha, not really." I didn't want to hear that.

"Modesty, modesty," the man dismissed, shaking his head. Then he clapped his son on the shoulder. "You next, Shisui. Show us what ya got."

Shisui's Grand Fireball wasn't nearly as impressive as mine (I swear that wasn't a brag), and it was clear as day on his face that he was disappointed—but in the fading flicker of flames, I thought I could detect a hint of jealousy, too. It was gone so fast I couldn't be sure.

It made me uneasy. Would he start to consider me a rival, if this kept up? I didn't want to be a benchmark for Shisui. I didn't want things to get all competitive between us like it was with our dads. For his sake, I'd intentionally dumb myself down and keep it that way, because hanging out with him just as a friend and not a rival was fun. I didn't really have anyone else my age that I could handle, and if he left, things would get boring.

…And he wouldn't get me out of trouble anymore.

"Good job, son!" Even if he was slightly crazy, Kou was fair with his praise. He smacked his son on the back and ruffled his hair again before looking over the both of us critically. "Now, why don't you both try again? Practice never killed anyone."

Almost as soon as he said them, the man had to swallow his words.

I ended up setting the trees on fire.

Chapter Text

Sasuke's birth was a Big Deal—so deserving of each capital letter—considering he was the second child of the clan head.

When the kid kicked and Mikoto's water broke in the middle of the street during one of her daily strolls, there was utter chaos. Like, complete and utter chaos, I kid you not—it may as well have been doomsday because it sure as hell felt like there would be hell to pay if things went south.

—Well, mainly for me, Shisui and Itachi, who were the only three present when the kid stubbornly decided today would be his birthday because we were keeping her company that day. And, of course, being the only girl nearby other than Mikoto, those two nimrods immediately glanced my way.

"Don't look at me!" I'd never seen or been around a woman ready to give birth in either of my two lives and it was the worst way to experience an adrenaline rush. My heart was all the way up in my throat! Did they really think I was equipped to handle something like this?! I could barely wrap my tongue around the words I needed to speak, let alone figure out how to help a woman in labor—it was hard to even look at her, strong as she was.

Poor Mikoto was on her knees, hunched over, but handling it like a pro because she hadn't made a peep yet even though her face was twisted in pain and ow ow ow I could only imagine. That boy was coming out now and he wouldn't wait for us to try to get ahold of ourselves to figure out what to do. Impatient as always.

"We gotta go get someone now! A medic! A nurse! My mom!" I grabbed Shisui's shoulders and shook him hard, trying to conduct all of my nerves and anxiety to him so he wouldn't just stand there all stupefied with wide eyes and an unhinged jaw like a useless dummy. He was the oldest here—he should have been the one picking up the slack. Pride of the Uchiha my ass!

"I—I'll go!" Itachi called, finally coming to his senses as the weight of the situation began to press down on him and worry took over his shell-shocked expression.

"No way, she's your mom! You stay here!"

"Then—I'll go. I'm the fastest of us. It's the hospital, right? Right, Auntie Mikoto?" Shisui finally gathered his bearings and pulled up his responsible face, grabbing my arms to keep me from throttling him as he looked towards our pregnant relative and ohmygod oh my god that kid was really not going to wait!

"We...we want...it to be a home—" she sucked in a sharp breath through her teeth, clutching her stomach, "—a home birth!"

There was no way in hell the woman would make it back home in that condition with the help of three kids.

"A home birth!? Go Emiko, Shisui! Go sweet's shop lady! Hell, go to get Fugaku-sama the husband!" My shrieky Japanese just got worse and worse under pressure, but somehow the mangled words were conveyed through the rising panic and urgency.

"I—right! I'll be right back!"

Meanwhile, Itachi was at his mother's side, rubbing her back and doing his best to comfort her through the pain. Model son, he was. His level-headedness was contagious—because he was so calm, my own racing heart began to quit trying to hammer its way out of my ribcage.

Wouldn't that just be great, if I had a heart attack and died right here while a totally important character was born at the same time…? I could see it now, my tombstone would read something humiliating, like:

R.I.P. Uchiha Rika: Frightened to death at the age of seven by childbirth.

But, thankfully, that wasn't the case.

I crouched near Mikoto's other shoulder and awkwardly set my hand on her back, too, tracing a gentle, hopefully soothing, pattern. "A-Auntie, hey, is there anything we can do? Help you to the house?"

Help you birth your second child publicly right here in the village, maybe?

I wanted to cry.

I never thought I'd be around to witness Sasuke's birth—and I wouldn't have been in this situation if it hadn't been for Shisui and his pushy persistence that I should hang out with Itachi more and that we should get to know each other better because we were going to start attending the Academy together soon and because I needed more friends.

I didn't need any damn friends! Especially when it involved the guy who would eventually kill me! Who in their right mind would make friends with their murderer? I mean, I didn't hate Itachi—he was one of my favorites, before and his life would already be tragic enough—and I knew this was the way things had to be, but the whole thing was just so twisted and stupid.

"N-no, just—" Mikoto made a muffled, strangled gasp of pain through gritted teeth and Itachi and I exchanged panicked glances.

"Hold on, Mom!"

"Uh, breathe! Breathe, Auntie! Just breathe!"

Shisui kept his word. Not even five minutes passed when he returned with Fugaku—just as panicked as us kids—following briskly behind. But now that I think about it, we were pretty close to the police station. If we'd been thinking clearly in the first place, that would have been the obvious place to go.

And—being the great, devoted husband he was, Fugaku picked up Mikoto and carried her all the way to the hospital (because it was way too late to go for that home birth now) like a real trooper, with a gaggle of kids following close behind. Bet we'd make great gossip for the locals when this was over.

It was a miracle we made it to the place before she burst—little Sasuke (now actually given the name) was born no less than five minutes after being admitted.

He was an ugly baby.

"He's so...little. And sweet."

There was no other way for me to describe the two-month-old brat. He just looked so damn happy and smiley, showing off his little gummy gums all the time except when he was snoozing, ever since he'd been brought home from the hospital. If I didn't have the information I did, I wouldn't believe you if you told me this baby would end up becoming such an angsty, serious and severely misled, manipulated guy in the future.

It was the first time I really felt for him, deep from my heart.

I mean, up until the day I noticed, and really noticed, just how messed up the poor kid's—and he was just a kid; they all were—life had been to make him choose such over-the-top methods that warped him into some kind of near-villain, I never thought twice about him.

During my younger years, I was never a part of the pro-Sasuke fanclub, anyway, and it took quiiiite a bit of time up until I realized and understood that anyone could have ended up that way with those kinds of things working against him. He didn't receive the guidance he needed, but when he did—when he had Team Seven—he rejected it for as long as he could for the sake of his own goals.

Well. We all know how that ended up. Everything turns out fine sooner or later when Naruto is involved.

And, hey, what's life without a little struggle?

But…he wouldn't have to deal with the beginnings of his tragic lifestyle until eight years from now. For now, he could just enjoy being a happy, tiny baby with his brother watching over him.

Itachi glanced over his shoulder, where I was hovering to get a better look at the wrinkled, fat little pink-cheeked, swaddled baby in his arms, and there was a soft, loving smile on his face. Even then, I could tell he was proud of his little bro.

Thanks to Sasuke's birth, Shisui sort of got his wish that Itachi and I spend more time together and try to become friends. Mikoto was grateful that I'd been there to help when she was in labor and invited me over to play with her new kid pretty often. Emiko thought it was a wonderful idea, because—for some reason—she was under the impression that being exposed to a baby would impose some sort of responsibility on me. In fact, I think it was partially the idea of all of the local moms, who wanted me to quit being so rowdy and finally mature up a little. How naïve could they get?

I'm just surprised they didn't expect me to end up dropping Sasuke on his head whenever I was given the chance to hold him.

Boy, would that just screw everything up.

(Or would it make things better…?)

As for Itachi, he was... I didn't really know how to describe him. He didn't talk much, but he was a gentle kid. Sweet, kind, responsible, and pretty damn cool because of it—I mean, he was only so many years old and his parents already fully trusted him to look after his baby brother without supervision—especially with me around. I was a little jealous. But...there was also just something more to him, like he didn't let the stuff beneath the surface really show. Like he was only acting how the others wanted him to—a perfect, model child. Even Shisui showed his boyish, childish side every now and then, but Itachi...

Sometimes it just felt like he wasn't really himself. And it would only get worse after he became a shinobi, burdened with his heavy fate.

If everyone could be so lucky, the only burden he should be holding was the fourteen-pounder (did I mention Sasuke was a fat baby, too) currently curled up in his arms. There was another chance to change things, just dangling right in front of me.

Oh well.

I moved around to Itachi's side and plopped down on the porch before reaching for the spiky tuft of black hair that stuck up from Sasuke's scalp, mussing it gently. It was so soft! Like cotton candy.

"Hey, how old are you, Itachi?"

The boy looked briefly surprised by the spontaneous question, but replied regardless. "I'm five."

"Ah, that's a gap, huh!" In my first life, my older brother had been six years my senior. We never really could get along up until we were both adults and finally made the attempt to understand each other better.

And when he stopped trying to drown me in the swimming pool. Some sibling.

"...You're gonna be nice to him, right?" He wouldn't be that type of brother, I knew, but I had to make sure.

His eyebrows drew together, slightly perplexed. "Of course."

"Better be."

We fell silent after that, and only Sasuke's chirpy, happy, cooing noises could be heard. He loved Itachi already, too—in fact, it was almost like I wasn't there at all and those two siblings only had eyes for each other. He was gonna follow his brother around like a baby duck just as soon as he figured out how to walk.

No baby ever looked at me like that. In fact, I'd never even held one.

I must have been scowling or something because when I glanced back at the brothers, Itachi was eyeing me strangely. "Rika...do you want to hold Sasuke?"

"Yeah!" I threw my arms out with a wide grin, even though I knew I looked like an idiot.

With care, Itachi transferred the little baby bundle over to me, muttering things about just how to hold him right, to make sure to support his neck, all that stuff. Granted, it was harder than I thought it would be to hold a heavy kid when I was so little, myself.

It wasn't really anything that special, to be honest. I'd had more fun holding a dog.

Sasuke grinned a big, toothless grin my way as he groped his little chubby baby hands at me and, despite myself, I smiled, too. What a little idiot!

But then he wrapped his fingers around a chunk of my hair that was hanging over his face and pulled.

"Ow ow ow ow, let go!" I yelped, but the sound only caused the tiny brat to increase his own shrill chirps because torturing me was apparently so much fun...!

I did my best to distance myself from him while still keeping a firm, safe hold, but that only made him strengthen his grip and keep right on tugging. And Itachi, oh Itachi had the audacity to sit there and laugh while I struggled, like he planned out the entire thing just to make me suffer.

Then—neither of us expected it to happen—Sasuke let go so suddenly that my head snapped back and smacked into the wooden banister behind me, and then, and then—

Sasuke's blanket swaddle must have come loose—and I swear it was an accident!—because the kid started to slip out of my arms before I lost hold on him completely (but thank god I was sitting)and he tumbled across the floorboards, rolling to a stop against Itachi's leg, grinning the whole time. That was the sight our moms happened upon.

Thankfully, he wasn't hurt, since the fall wasn't much of a fall at all. Emiko yelled at me anyway.

But, to my credit, I didn't drop him on his head.

Chapter Text

After the Kyuubi's attack and the subsequent loss of the Fourth Hokage as well as a substantial amount of villagers, Konoha's sentiments towards the Uchiha clan as a whole shifted into the negative. A great many suspected it was our clan that orchestrated the whole shebang thanks to our dear ancestor Madara's history with the beast, and to an extent, well...they were right.

It was because of two Uchihas that such misfortune and destruction fell upon the village. Just—not us.

Relations with other clans and civilians alike had already been, y'know, rocky at best even before this event, but now there was obvious animosity. Not in the apparent, throw-rotten-fruit-at-the-outcasts way, either, but the quiet, simmering kind where people side-eyed us and muttered behind our backs like uppity jerks.

The dislike spread like wildfire.

But, at the very least, old man Third did his best to remain neutral and to continue supporting everyone in his village equally. It was probably thanks to him that the rancor didn't overflow into something disgusting and biased to where the clan was shunned. But he never really did do anything about it.

If things didn't end up getting all FUBAR later on thanks to interlopers like Danzo and Obito, maybe...maybe the clan would have gotten out of this alive.

I didn't like any of it—in fact, I hated it. But it wasn't enough to make me want to change it. Even if it hurt, it was something that I would have to deal with; just grin and bear.

Because, if there was even the smallest chance that I would be returned to my own world when I was killed in the massacre, the payoff would be well worth it. It was only a matter of a few more years. I did care for these people—loved them, in fact. But... they weren't mine.

Sometime after this, around the time I was eight, Emiko and Satoshi pulled me out of the Academy because I wasn't making any outward progress in the shinobi side of life anyway and the teachers were starting to get irritated at my behavior—it might have been because of the ostracism, too, but they never talked about it. Dad became pretty tight-lipped concerning clan meetings and general clan talk after the whole Kyuubi thing went down—and if that wasn't just a bad sign.

Emiko took it upon herself to homeschool me, teaching me the basics in each subject—enough to get by. Most of it was what I already knew but I pretended to be a moron learning new great things just to make her happy. Satoshi still attempted to persuade me with flashy clan techniques, thanks to Kou's testament about my awesome Fireball, but when I stubbornly refused to comply, he finally gave up and let me have my peace as a normal villager. They discussed my future and decided I would follow in Emiko's footsteps and become a seamstress, too. At least, they hoped that would work out—this was me they were dealing with after all.

By this time, Shisui graduated and became a full-fledged genin and our time together became less and less. It was a huge shift, but I actually spent more time around Itachi and his family, because even though I dropped Sasuke once and could have damned (or bettered) his future (like I said before, it was an accident), Mikoto liked having me around to help out every now and then.

Sometimes I wondered if my oh-so lovely, fiery personality reminded her of her late friend Uzumaki Kushina—it would have explained her tolerance for me.

And, when Sasuke was old enough to walk and go outside, I took him along with me to pick up Itachi from the Academy—but that turned out to be only a measly two short times, because the kid was a pint-sized genius who managed to clear the bar in a year and became a genin soon after.

Then, it was just me and Sasuke most of the time.

Who would have thought—I'd somehow landed myself as his babysitter.

It was almost like the world was goading me, all but begging me to dip my hands into this mess of a timeline and break the chain of fate. And I was in the perfect position to, too. Three major players were within my reach and—hell, I'd be an idiot to ignore it if it aligned with my intentions.

Unfortunately, it didn't. If my rebirth here was supposed to have an actual purpose, I was gonna run from it and keep running.

The only purpose I had, as far as I was concerned, was to die at the age of fifteen.

Everything else was just the icing on that cake.

"Oh, it's just you."

"Yeah. Me again. Disappointed?"

Did I ever mention Sasuke didn't actually like me all that much? I didn't know what his deal was—no one told him I dropped him once and, for the last time, it was an accident—but whatever the issue, it was what led to our current stand-off.

All I did was come over to the Head's house to babysit and as soon as I reached the door, the three-year-old brat threw it open with a wide, excited grin that dropped from his face like a stone the moment his eyes landed on me (and it was especially annoying because it really resembled the sour-faced expressions Fugaku made when he caught me causing trouble. Sasuke looked like his mom more than anything, but there were definitely traces of his father there).

He was probably hoping I was Itachi.

But if I had an older brother like that I'd be excited to see him, too. And upset if it wasn't him at the door after all.

The little dark-haired half-pint puffed out his cheeks and leaned his weight moodily against the open door before waving me forward into the home sooo graciously. Then, as soon as I kicked my shoes off in the entryway, he pointedly eyed the large bag I was carrying, curiosity slightly piqued. "What're we doing today, Auntie Rika?"

"Auntie? I'm barely older than your brother. Just call me Rika!"

He shrugged, putting on his best innocent face. "But you're so old."

"Excuse me!?"

"Fiiine. Rika-nee."

"I guess that's better..." Brat.

I dropped the over-stuffed canvas bag on the ground and dug through it, pulling out a small box with a grin. "We're gonna paint today. Emi—I mean, my mom got me some art stuff the other day and I thought you'd wanna try it, too." Surprisingly, fine art was more predominant in this world than I expected. I'd always thought it was just something that cropped up along with Sasori, Deidara and Sai in Shippuden, but it actually had history. Mostly among the civilians, but still.

"Painting? That's so boring, Rika-nee! Why can't we do ninja stuff like my big brother? Didn't you go to the Academy, too? Show me what they teach you there so I can learn some stuff and train with Itachi!" Damn, for a toddler he sure was loquacious. And already so entitled.

There he stood, back straight, chest puffed-out, with his hands set on his hips. There was an imperious frown on his face and the whole thing made him stink of royalty, like a little prince.

Spoiled. Spoiled spoiled spoiled. Rotten. And way too hard to please. How exhausting.

"I'm not a ninja, Sasuke. Just ask Itachi about it when he comes home later." I shook the box in his direction. "Right now just—I dunno. Paint a picture for him until then. Of you two training together or something."

His face immediately brightened up when I mentioned his beloved brother. "Okay!" Then, he snatched the box out of my hands and held it over his head as he scurried down the hallway towards the sitting room.

Not a very lengthy attention span, that one.

"H-hey, I have the paper here! Don't open that 'til I get there, kid!" Last thing I needed was for him to get paint all over Mikoto's nice, clean house.

...Actually, maybe that's exactly what I needed.

Sasuke hadn't ever been disciplined from what I knew, and wouldn't it just be awful if I looked the other way while he splattered paint all across the walls? His mom would lose her shit.

Unfortunately, that wasn't quite how it went. The kid was way too neat with this. His hands were smudged with colors and so was his face, but otherwise he kept the paints on the surface of the paper and off the furniture.

As expected, he didn't seem too happy with the end product. He sighed, deeply, unsatisfied—always one for the dramatics—and puffed out his squirrely cheeks as he held up the picture to observe it in proper lighting. He turned the paper this way and that, held it up over his head, set it down on the table, held it arms' length away from his eyes, eyebrows furrowed together in deep concentration, and this went on for a solid, entire annoying minute before he finally spoke his mind.

"It's too small, Rika-nee."

"Too small?" I held out my hand and he passed it across to me.

...What the hell was I looking at?

Last time I checked—and it wasn't really all that long ago—Itachi didn't look like an abstract, yellowish-peachy version of the squiggly guy from Munch's The Scream dressed up in some weird imaginative ninja clothes. But Sasuke's self-portrait looked pretty accurate—a blob of bratty evil incarnate, complete with the squishy cheeks.

Unlike most kids who would typically draw tiny stick figures or blobs in a concentrated area of the surface, Sasuke actually took up most of the space provided, and even then they barely fit in. No wonder he said it was too small.

"Ah. I see whatcha mean." I felt my lips quirk up into a grin. He wanted more space, did he? Well, the entire compound was surrounded by a wonderful, great expanse of large, blank walls. "Hey, I know what we can do. Let's go and make a huge mural of it outside so Itachi—" and everyone else "—can see it for sure!"

"Eh? We can do that, Rika-nee?" Sasuke's previous disappointment disappeared and he perked up again, all grins.

"Sure can! Not like there's a sign that says we can't! And it'll be so much fun."

Graffiti-ing up a public wall space was a way better idea than dirtying up poor Mikoto's house.

I let Sasuke do most of the work.

"Whoaaa, Rika-nee, you're right! This is so much better than a paper!" Unlike before, the kid was now pretty much covered head-to-toe with paints (they were just cheap, child-safe temperas), and he'd decided to forego the brushes in favor of smushing his hands and fingers along the grey concrete walls instead.

"I'm pretty sure I was right about saying you shouldn't eat so much, too," I grumbled as I struggled to maintain my hold on the kid's waist while I hefted him up to reach the higher areas of the wall. He looked so tiny and I swear all he ever ate was tomatoes and rice but he was damn heavy.

"Huh?"

"Nothing, nothing! Look; you missed a spot! Can't have Itachi's eyes looking two different sizes, now can we?"

"No way! Good catch, Rika-nee." Sasuke smacked his little paint-stained hand against the wall to shape his brother's eye so enthusiastically that the dark paint splattered both of our faces.

In the end, he'd only gone as far as to recreate a portrait of Itachi, and it wasn't much of a step up from his paper painting.

Let me just say—kindly—that he was no da Vinci. Or even close to a Sai.

"Looks good to me," I complimented him regardless and prepared to drop him on the ground, but a sudden shout stopped me mid-action.

"Hey! What do you kids think you're doing?!"

Just a short distance down the street was one of the local police officers—I never cared to remember his name even though I'd gotten yelled at by him before but he was the sorta-young, long-haired, mean-eyed one who was pretty much attached at the hip to Fugaku during patrols. I think he was the one who gave Itachi a hard time after Shisui's death, too.

Oh, and, surprise surprise, I wasn't his favorite person. As soon as he realized it was me defacing the property, he picked up the pace and booked it towards us.

"Rika! Don't move!"

"Oh crap! Run, Sasuke!" I nearly put the kid down, but with those stubby legs, there was no way he'd make it very far. Instead, I hefted him back up and tucked him away safely under one of my arms like a football before taking off and bless him, he didn't complain at all for once.

Even carrying this tubby little kid, I was pretty sure I could outrun a gangly teenager.

"Wait! You're not getting away this time!"

I stuck my tongue out. "Can't catch us! You're the slowest in the whole clan."

"You take that back! And stop already!"

"No way!"

"You little terror. I don't care what Satoshi-san and Fugaku-sama say about you—I know where you live. I know where you both live!"

"Rika-nee, turn here!" Sasuke pointed towards one of the smaller side-streets and I followed the path without thinking twice because it seemed like good advice. In retrospect, though...

We crashed headlong into someone who'd been turning the corner at the same time—with my luck, is it any surprise that it was Fugaku?

The man stared down at us with a vacant expression at first, like he couldn't register that the two multicolored, paint-speckled hellions sprawled out on the ground were his youngest son and resident troublemaker, but as soon as it dawned on him, his jaw unhinged. "What—"

What did you do now, Rika? What is wrong with your head, Rika? What have you done to Sasuke, Rika?

I was pretty sure he would've said any one of the above before his patrolman caught up to us, out of breath, looking furious as he pointed at me rudely. "Fugaku-sama! She was defacing private property!"

While the two men exchanged glances—one confused and exasperated and the other slightly smug and victorious but still upset—I reached over to help Sasuke sit up and did my best to clean the paint off of his face without smearing it too badly. Oh, nope—now he had a brown mustache. Oops.

"Rika-nee, what does 'defacing' mean?" He didn't seem to mind, though, and stared up at me with his wide, curious dark eyes.

"It means they didn't like your painting of Itachi." I made another swipe at the smeared pigment on his face but only made it look like half of a beard. Before I could spit on my sleeve and scrub the paint off, he whipped his head around towards Fugaku.

"What! Dad! No way! You're not gonna make me get rid of it, are you? Me and Rika-nee worked really hard!" Sasuke was up on his feet in an instant, curling his little hands into fists and looking crestfallen.

Then, Fugaku picked him up even though he was covered in paint and held him about arms-length away, studying him (and his paint-mustache) carefully. The other guy, in the meantime, snatched the back of my clan shirt to keep me from running and when I struck my foot out at his shins he decided to plant his hand firmly on my head to keep me in place arm's length away instead. But he was nice enough to not squeeze too hard because, all things considered, the police guys tried not to be too rough—especially after the time I called this guy out on police brutality when I wouldn't go with him willingly to my parent's house and he had to drag me down the street by my arms when he'd caught me graciously delivering all of the village's stray animals into the Nakano shrine.

Fugaku ignored this background scuffle and focused on his son only. "Sasuke...you painted it for Itachi?"

"I did, I did!"

"Why on the outer walls, of all things?"

Sasuke grinned brightly, kicking his feet happily. "Rika-nee said it was 'creative liberty!'"

The patrolman I tried to kick made a disgruntled, disgusted kind of noise when I choked down a poorly-concealed laugh. "It's defacement, is what it is—"

"Inabi." Oh. Right. That was his name. Props to Fugaku, though—with just a simple mention of his name the guy clammed up and looked cowed. I really liked our good old clan leader when he wasn't the one I was in trouble with.

The tiniest Uchiha finally began to understand that, maybe, painting on the walls hadn't been the best idea to follow along with after all. "Am I...am I in trouble?"

Fugaku's strict glance briefly flickered towards me, but then he closed his eyes and shook his head before staring at his youngest sternly. "No. Not this time, you aren't, Sasuke. But drawing on the outside walls is something you absolutely must never do again. It's against the law. Understood?" Sheesh, he spoke to the kid so strictly, like he was a first-time criminal. There was definitely a difference between how he handled me and how he handled his own kids—but I guess I didn't blame him.

Sasuke's eyes drooped low to the ground, excitement extinguished. "...Yes, Dad. Are you gonna tell Mom?"

"Yes, I plan to. You have to take responsibility for your actions. Now, go help your cousin clean everything up."

He set the boy down and Sasuke stood there pouting for a moment before turning and trudging towards me, gripping onto the hem of my shirt once he was close enough. "'Kay."

"Let Rika go, too, Inabi."

"What? But she—"

"I know. She'll have her punishment." Fugaku stated, crossing his arms, and by the severe expression on his face, Inabi was left with little choice but to obey. He dropped his hand away from my head and shrugged, eyeing me nastily before walking away—I'm pretty sure I was his mortal enemy. Then, Fugaku turned his stare to me. "Rika. You'll help Sasuke clean the walls and then, once you're done with that, you'll give him a bath to wash the paint away."

Oh.

Oh no, that was way too cruel, even for Uchiha standards. I felt my jaw drop as the dawning horror overtook my expression, because—

—because Sasuke hated baths. He was a nightmare to get clean.

I knew it. Mikoto knew it. Shisui knew it. Hell, even Emiko and Satoshi knew it. He only behaved for Itachi, wouldn't you guess. And that Fugaku, he was smirking. He knew it was the best punishment he could give me that would actually make the think twice and he was proud that he'd finally discovered something that would do to even slightly keep me in line.

"B-bathe Sasuke?" I repeated, just to be sure he'd made the right decision.

"That's right." He was immovable.

"I...right. C-come on Sasuke, let's go."

I did my best to prolong wiping the Itachi-mural off of the wall for as long as possible, but in the end it didn't help much. I still spent half the night chasing a naked Sasuke through the streets—and seeing more of him than I ever wanted to see.

And the next day, the police department ended up posting another notice that explicitly stated writing, drawing, or otherwise marking in any way, on the district's walls was a misdemeanor.

Chapter Text

When taking care of Sasuke didn't seem to improve my unruly nature, Emiko thought that maybe something like marriage would.

That's right. Marriage.

Well, not technically marriage—not right off the bat—but an arranged marriage contract with some other Uchiha guy my age that would hold up legally until I turned sixteen (which I never would), the minimum age to get hitched in this messed up clan.

I was only ten. My parents must have really been getting desperate.

"Rika, sit still," Emiko snapped, making a valiant attempt at taming my hair and making me look at least halfway presentable for the upcoming hell. It was no big deal just brushing it and letting me go for most days, but for an engagement prospect meeting—an omiyage or onmyōji thing; I couldn't recall the exact word Satoshi called it—it was "paramount" (and I quote Emiko here) that I look my absolute best and prettiest; my humblest and most graceful (a total sham) in order to secure a proper husband for the future.

She'd already wrestled me into an elegant, formal kimono she whipped up just for the event that was totally wasted on my stick-thin form—but I did have to admit, it made me look sort of pretty. I mean, I was an Uchiha—ugliness just didn't run in our veins and good genes were a dime a dozen, so I wasn't that bad-looking from the start.

Still, the deep-eggplant color of the garment Emiko had custom picked contrasted nicely with my slightly-suntanned skin (only slightly, barely even there, because even though the clan mostly had skin like porcelain, it was so hard to get it darker; plus, we should burn like albinos in the heat but genetics just said screw that. Stay pale). The delicate, silvery threads that made up the embroidery of two dragonflies chasing each other in a gentle swooping pattern added a touch of femininity I hadn't possessed in quite a few years.

It was really nice to show off and be, well…girly every now and then.

The only drawback was—"Ow! That hurts!"—Mama Emiko had to go to great lengths to fix up my hair, sticking in several pins and twisting the strands tightly to make it uphold the style she wanted—some sort of poofy bun updo with my heavy, thick bangs smoothed back, leaving my face clear and visible—and my scalped ached something fierce by the time she was done battling it and putting me through the damn wringer.

I barely recognized myself.

"Whoa," I spun a wild circle in front of the full-length mirror she'd set me by, then set my hands on my lilac obi, standing tall. "I look good!"

"You do," Emiko agreed faintly, dabbing her forehead with a lacy handkerchief. I didn't expect it would be so much trouble that it would make her work up a sweat. Made me feel a little guilty. "You're a lovely girl."

"Aha! Thanks." I grinned despite myself, feeling my cheeks warm at the tender, pretty much out of place, words. "You mean it?"

A rare smile crossed the woman's face, showing off the single dimple in her right cheek. "Yes, of course. Even when you're covered in mud or chicken feathers or paint. But I much prefer when you're all cleaned up like this." She straightened my collar before setting her hands on my shoulders and looking me dead in the eyes. "Now, you'll behave yourself, won't you?"

"Sure!"

Emiko's smile broadened a tiny bit, and there was a little edge to it. "Good. Because if you don't, you'll never find anyone and you'll end up marrying Shisui."

"Wha—what?" I choked. Wait to drop that bomb—had she been plotting something with Kou this entire time? I wouldn't doubt it. "He's my cousin, Mom! You're kidding, right?" Scary thing was, I was pretty sure she was serious. Clan purity, clan purity!

"Ohoho, I don't know, am I?" she hummed, looking away without a care in the world.

"That's evil! You're evil!"

Her head snapped back towards me as her terrifying Mom-mode flared up. "Excuse me, young lady?"

"I—I said I'd be good, okay!? Just don't drop me into that pit of incest—this isn't some kind of harem fetish anime!"

I didn't actually say that last part. No matter how badly I wanted to.

But, for the record, I'd totally (hypothetically) marry Shisui in a heartbeat if:

a) he wasn't so young, which he always would be since I had something over a twenty-year head start, and:

b) he wasn't blood-related.

I mean, how many people like me could actually say they'd married a semi-important canon Uchiha?

It'd be a pretty sweet deal.

The only problem with this brilliant scheme was that no one wanted to marry me. My reputation was just that bad.

I was sure I'd attended at least five meetings in one week alone, with generic, young and dimwitted, snot-nosed boys like Jin and Kei and Saburo and Aki and Hikaru—all brats.

Any other time, I probably would have been a little offended. But, on the other hand, maybe I shouldn't have bullied all the kids and chased them around trying to kiss them just to get them to leave me alone when we were younger. Turned out that had a heavy hand in their aversion to me.

No one wanted to date Cootie Rika.

But, most importantly, their parents didn't want my bad influence let loose in their households.

Uchiha Rika was a name that generally struck terror through the hearts of any self-respecting parent in the whole compound, likened to a plague. For me, it was more like a blessing.

Not a minute after the fifth meeting came to its long-awaited end, I ditched Emiko and Satoshi to go out and have some fun, celebrating my status as a forever-single little lady. I really would have killed for some alcohol, but, well—emphasis on little.

My parents didn't even keep any sake in the house. Somehow. If I were them and had a rowdy kid like me, I know a full liquor cabinet is the first thing I'd splurge my rainy day fund on.

The only option remaining was to visit one of the local cafés and get hyped up on sugar and tea with what little allowance I had in my pocket.

I didn't expect to run into a familiar face when I walked into the small shop.

After putting in my order, I dropped down onto the bench beside the solitary boy and smacked my hand against his back. "Itachi! Long time no see." His muscles immediately tensed up and if he was a cat I'm pretty sure his fur would be standing on end. Maybe he'd even jump away in shock if he didn't have such great control of his reflexes. Don't think the kid had ever been spazzy in his entire life.

I wasn't sure what startled Itachi more—the fact that I'd spoken to him out of nowhere and interrupted his peace, or the fact that I was dressed up so fancy. Hell, he might not have even recognized me. That would explain the deer-in-headlights look about him. Maybe he thought I was one of his many admirers—the kid was a heartbreaker and he didn't even know it because he was so damn polite. Girls swarmed on the sidelines, never quite approaching but longing from afar while he remained oblivious. But, surprisingly, he wasn't as popular as Shisui.

Damn Uchihas.

If only to ease the boy's nerves, I pulled one of the pins from my hair and let my bangs fall over my eyes in spiky chunks, grinning wide all the while.

"Rika," he breathed out, visibly relaxing. Then he took a second to observe my get-up and his eyebrow quirked up slightly—just barely. "You look nice. What's the occasion?"

His words were innocent, sincere. He was only eight, but already he'd become more mature than most of the other clan kids—me included. My eyes briefly flicked towards his forehead protector before I gave a shrug. "Just came from a meeting thing. Umm…" I still couldn't remember the proper term and squinted as I thought, waving a vague hand. "Y'know, for marriage."

"Omiai?" he asked, mystified.

Right. That's what it was called.

"You're getting married?" There was a hint of alarm in his cool voice. Even for his standards, ten years old was way too young for that kind of thing, clearly. Glad he had a good head on his shoulders. And he didn't say it mockingly, either, like "you're getting married?" like Shisui no doubt would. Like ninety-nine percent of the entire compound would. So polite!

"No, no! I got rejected. Not like I wanna get hitched, anyway. Mom and Dad are just at a loss for what to do with me." I leaned my chin on my palm and frowned. "So, how's genin training going? Get a lot of cool missions and stuff?"

Itachi smiled faintly as he glanced down at his cup of green tea. "It's fine. I can't really discuss it much. Sorry, Rika."

"Nah, it's fine. I totally understand." The shopkeeper brought over a tea set and extra cup, as well as a serving of dango. "What about your teammates? Are they cool? Smart? Annoying?"

A pensive look fell across his face as he glanced out across the café. "I…like them."

I nodded, waiting for a more detailed reply, but he didn't continue past that. Maybe it was a touchy subject or he just didn't have anything else to say. He was young, after all—I wondered if his teammates were the same age or older. The thought that they might shun him or something because of his young talent occurred to me, but before I got mad I remembered his words. He did say he liked them and he didn't usually lie. Plus, if they gave him trouble he could definitely beat them up—not that he did things like that, though. Really, he was an incredibly peaceful and kind kid at his current age…

Either way, if I wanted to keep this conversation going I needed to change the subject.

"Well, what about fighting styles, then? I heard from Sasuke you're pretty good with kunai. He said..."

Our conversation drifted. It was idle talk.

But, I'd learned over the years that Itachi could actually get pretty talkative when I took the effort to get past his taciturn shell and wheedle some responses out of him—it helped when his brother came up in topic, too. He never did blather on, but he could carry his side of our little chats without trouble (but really all he did was listen half the time).

Speaking with him was always calming. Even if he still hid part of himself away.

It didn't really bother me anymore.

When the teapot dwindled down to its dregs and Itachi asked the shopkeeper for a refill, I rose to my feet and placed a handful of ryō down on the tabletop. "Well, I'm out. It was nice talkin' with ya, Itachi."

"Likewise, Rika." He offered me a smile and small wave as I made my way to the exit, but before I could set foot outside, he spoke again. "Oh—Shisui was looking for you."

"For me? Know where he is?"

"I don't."

"Ah, it's fine. I'll find him." I returned the wave and ducked out of the shop with one final grin.

It had been a good while since I'd last spoken with Itachi, but even longer since I'd had any contact with Shisui. His missions tended to be long, lately; I was also pretty sure he was slated to participate in the next chūnin exam. He was a busy kid. In fact, I was surprised he remembered me at all—after both he and Itachi became genin, I expected them to start hanging out more, training together and strengthening their friendship to the point where I just sort of faded away into the background like cousins tended to do. Seeing Itachi without Shisui at his side while they both had some down time was a strange sight, come to think of it.

Shisui was lingering near the outer limits of the Uchiha district, leaning against the gates and glancing idly up at the dusky evening sky with a dazed and sort of dopey look plastered to his face, totally tuned out of reality. For the way he was so distracted and with how differently I looked compared to usual, I could have passed him right on by and he wouldn't have batted even one of his well-defined eyelashes.

"Hey! Shisui!"

His gaze immediately darted in my direction and a grin stretched across his face. "Ri—" the grin fell, and he did a double-take. "…Rika?"

"The one and only." I set my hands on my hips and beamed. "Heard you were lookin' for me. Gonna apologize for ditching me all this time or somethin'?"

"No, I just..." his eyebrows furrowed and his face went a little pouty before a big, cheesy smile took over. "Hey, you look really pretty, Rika. What's up?"

Ah, turning the topic with compliments. Smooth. Real smooth.

I waved a hand casually and examined my short, bitten nails. "Mom and Dad had me attend some, uh—" what had Itachi called it, again? "—omiai things."

"Omi—omiai? Rika...what did you do that would make them resort to marrying you off?" Shisui quickly approached and set his hands on my shoulders, sighing. He made no effort to conceal his exasperation—he'd been too busy being a ninja to trail after me and pick up my messes lately, but the concern was still there.

I rolled my eyes thoughtfully towards the sky and began ticking off my numerous offenses on my fingers. "Well, there was the time I fished the koi in the river; the time I dropped Sasuke—but don't let him know about that; remember when I gathered up all the stray dogs and cats and set them loose at the shrine?; I nearly started a forest fire; I let Sasuke paint a mural of Itachi on the outer wall—wait, you never knew about that; um...I almost burnt down my own house; I accidentally cut some of Itachi's hair off—ah, you don't know about that either, do you? ; Then, once, I let all of the chickens loose... Oh, and there was that one time where I dyed everyone's—yours too, remember?—khaki pants fuchsia—"

He stopped me before I could really get on a roll. "Okay, okay. I get it; it's more like what haven't you done. Shouldn't have asked." His eyebrows drew together. "But...marriage? Who are you engaged to?"

I laughed and smacked him on the arm. "Are you kidding? No one wants to marry me. They think I'm knocked in the head. I got rejected five times!"

"Five...?" He mock-flinched, rubbing at his arm. "Well—"

"Don't worry about it. I'm only ten. There's plenty of time to think about that kind of thing later."

"You know, if you become a shinobi, you wouldn't have to worry about that stuff."

"Hey, I tried. I'm not cut out for that kinda training. Knocked in the head, remember?" I tapped my knuckles against my temple for emphasis.

Shisui eyed me strangely before shaking his head slightly. "Whatever, Rika. Anyway, there's something I want to show you. Come on!" Before I could protest, or even agree, he grabbed my wrist and pulled me along after him.

He led us into the forest where Kou taught us the Grand Fireball a few years ago and I had to hike up the kimono Emiko gave me a bit to keep its hem from getting torn on the underbrush. I'd grown to like the damn thing and I didn't want it getting messed up because it would be a bitch to fix. Plus, Emiko dyed the silk herself, just for me. If I let anything happen to it, she would probably cry.

Finally, after all the trees started to look the same and I lost my sense of direction which wasn't that great to begin with, he came to a stop near one of the small training grounds located within those woods. I'd never been there, myself, and for a moment I had to wonder if this was what he wanted to show me so badly that it couldn't wait until morning when it was lighter outside.

"What, did you bring me here to spar or something?" I joked, cracking an uncertain smile.

"Of course not. Look." He reached for his kunai holster and pulled out two before handing one over to me.

I held the weighty, combat-worn steel blade in both hands and pursed my lips before squinting up at the boy. "This...isn't sparring?"

"It's not, Rika. I promise." He turned his back on me and walked a few paces away before throwing a glance over his shoulder. "You can throw a kunai, right?"

"Yeeeah. Sato—Dad taught me." I gripped the knife in my right hand and tested its weight before flipping it over properly and grasping the wrapped hilt. Pretty nimble if I didn't say so myself.

"Great, thought so. Okay, throw it at me."

"Shisui, this is seriously starting to sound a lot like you want a fight. And it's getting dark; I can barely see. Can you even see?"

He sighed and turned to face forwards again, shoes shuffling in the grass. "Rika, just do it. Please."

Well, that was the magic word.

"Alright, alright. I'll throw it." I aimed the kunai towards Shisui's head—just a few centimeters off target, though, because who knew what could happen. I didn't want to end up hitting him and injuring him or having it ricochet off of his forehead protector and somehow boomerang back to my face by some brainless fluke. Then, like Satoshi taught me, with a quick flick of the wrist and a precise location for its trajectory, I let it fly.

My throw was off—really off—because of the awkward kimono sleeves I didn't bother rolling up. It sailed towards the space between his eyes and even though I knew he was more capable than I was and definitely could avoid getting hit, and god forbid dying, for a second I completely forgot how to breathe.

But—and I only picked this up shortly after the weapon left my fingertips—a flash of crimson appeared through the growing darkness and then the kunai I threw was instantly deflected by his own in a spark of steel, knocked aside and spinning uselessly through the air before landing in the dirt.

Oh.

Oh.

I stomped forwards and grabbed Shisui by the collar of his shirt, throttling him slightly. "Is that the Sharingan? You brought me out here to show me your Sharingan?! This was all totally unnecessary, Shisui! You ham!"

Stupid—stupid and reckless. Maybe I'd started to rub off on him with my bad influence because, really, what was he thinking…?

He grinned down at me, eyes still blazing red, and held his hands up in surrender, his dominant one still clutching a kunai. "Okay, you got me. I just wanted to show off a little—I haven't had the chance to show you yet." He paused. "…Pretty amazing, right?"

It was pretty amazing. Totally cool. I wasn't going to lie to him. Even if the implications were that he'd suffered through some sort of emotional, borderline traumatic events to awaken it and mature it—he was already through the final stage and three tomoe were present in each eye. Not pleasant, but something to be proud of within this messed up clan either way.

...Seriously, how batshit insane was it to lionize something that resulted from living through tragedy and suffering and all kinds of painful circumstances? Oh, congratulations! Someone you cared about might have died or been otherwise horribly wounded but here's your prize; you're a real winner!

Damn Uchihas.

Either way, it really was cool. I leaned in closer to get a better look at the swirling pattern despite myself. Dōjutsu were things I never understood, really—chakra in the eyes? Irises changing shape and color? Spinning? Things just didn't work that way where I came from, except, y'know, maybe with contacts. But these things were like magic. Ninja magic. And they really, really looked real. Little filaments and flecks of scarlet pigment, the deep darkness of the tomoe pattern... It wasn't a solid color like I always assumed it would be and there was a depth to it that I could nearly lose myself in. It was really...pretty.

Shisui's eyes widened and he leaned back a little. "Uh, Rika, you're kinda close."

"Don't be a baby, I'm just trying to get a better look. I've never seen the Sharingan up so close before. What can you see?"

He set his hands against my shoulders to keep me from leaning too far in because I had no respect for personal space when it came to curiosity and if I could I'd get close enough to see every little detail—I'd even go so far as to touch it if that wasn't so grossly unsanitary. Just how did all these nasties rip out others' eyes and stick them right in their own socket without following proper cleaning procedures? Much less proper medical procedures. Disgusting.

"Well, there's chakra flow, for one. It's all colored—"

"No way! What color's mine?"

"It's…kind of pink-ish purple," he provided, managing a small grin as I bounced on the heels of my feet and gave a smug nod of approval.

The prospect of having my own, personal chakra color was damn interesting even if I would never see it myself.

"It was weird to see at first, but now I'm used to it. Everything's a lot clearer, I can read movements easier, copy things..." he trailed off as soon as a frown crossed my face.

"Damn, now I want one, too." It was only a half-lie—I did want one, but I could do without the prerequisites.

I retreated a few steps back and sighed, turning around and looking up at the brightening stars. The sun had long since dipped past the horizon, leaving the area near-completely dark. A Sharingan sure would come in handy… but it was better to give up that pipe dream before it even began.

Shisui's muffled footsteps dragged across the grass as he retrieved his other kunai and then set them both back into the holster on his thigh. Then, he approached me and crossed his arms, watching me with an uncharacteristically serious expression. "Like I said, you could still become a shinobi. Then, chances are pretty good you'd get it, too."

"Why do you keep sayin' that? I already said I can't." I fidgeted with the ends of my kimono sleeves, straightening out the material that had gotten folded over, and watched him from the corner of my eyes with a frown. He was annoyingly persistent.

"I dunno, Rika, I don't really believe that." His stupid Sharingan remained active and it burned in the darkness, bright red. "I've been thinking about it for a while. Remember when we were practicing the Fireball jutsu with my dad?"

"Ah, yeah! I burnt my mouth kinda bad, trying that. Then I almost totally razed this forest down!" I grinned and forced a laugh.

"You did that on purpose, right?"

My grin dropped.

"Wh—what? Don't be stupid! Why would I try to commit arson intentionally? I mean, I know I like to make trouble, but I have limits with the law." Annoyingly persistent and perceptive. I knew he was smart, but could he really have noticed that...? At such a young age? I was just playing around, sure, but I didn't expect anyone to pay close attention to it…

I should have just kept on stubbornly refusing to learn the clan jutsus instead of letting myself show off a little just for fun; just to prove I could do it. My ego got the better of me and it had a way of coming back to bite me in the ass.

"I couldn't answer that. But you're also not bad at throwing kunai. Your aim is pretty good, Rika. And I don't think you're as stupid as you let on, sometimes." Shisui fell quiet, studying me with uncharacteristic doubt. "You seem like you have talent in all the right places for it."

Who knew I'd ever have to participate in a conversation like this? It was kind of painful. Maybe his Sharingan helped him to see right through me.

"Ah, really? I mean, I guess that's just your opinion." My lips spread into an uneasy smile almost automatically. "I'm glad you think so, though."

"...You're never serious, are you, Rika?" There was a sudden chill in his voice. A flare of irritation.

"Wha—why are you mad?"

"It's just a huge waste of potential, is all. If you—"

"What, you have a problem with me wanting to be a regular ol' civilian, Shisui?" Oh, now I was mad. And when I got mad, I got mad. Something like boiling liquid swirled and bubbled within, rising up, up, up, and knocked persistently against the lid I kept on my emotions before everything finally burst out and my temper got the better of me. I set my hands on my hips and drew myself up to my full height—not impressive or intimidating at all, but whatever. "It's not really any of your business what I do or don't do!"

"I—"

I reached out and prodded him in the chest with my index finger, scowling. "In fact, I think you know I'd suck, and you just want someone else to compare yourself to because Itachi's turning out to be so good he's already getting outta your league. I'm not gonna be some stepping stone for you, okay? I don't wanna be your crappy rival." Ah, I was really ranting, but when he brought up the subject, I couldn't help it.

Part of me really did want to try being a shinobi after seeing how fun it could be since it was a rare chance—no matter how strong I would get or how weak I might end up. But that lingering, certain fear that I would be living in Itachi and Shisui's shadows continued to hold me back. That, and I wanted to keep my friendships with them intact without an inferiority complex getting in the way. I knew I'd only end up getting jealous and come to really detest them if they always left me behind. They would probably see how worthless I was, if it came to that, and they'd stop associating with me altogether. I would lose friends; I didn't want that—not when they were so busy with their careers already.

Shisui cared about our friendship, too, clearly, but his outlook on the matter was just...impossible for me.

When I focused on him again, he was struck speechless, left floundering and wondering how to respond to the verbal onslaught.

Then, he looked mad. Livid. For a moment, I was afraid he'd react badly to my words and smack me for taking things a step too far, but he was Shisui. He wouldn't hurt a fly—enemy ninja, yeah, but nothing innocent.

He only said kind of dumb, thoughtless things sometimes and maybe I overreacted and said too much, too. But the damage was already done and the situation couldn't help but escalate because he was just a kid and we were both upset and not in the state of mind to think things through.

"Ri... Rika you moron! That's not what this is about at all! I showed you the Sharingan 'cause I wanted you to see what being an Uchiha meant, to maybe change your mind, but you—ugh!" He threw his arms out and sighed, shaking his head.

"Don't call me a moron, Shisui! You're the one who made up this stupid half-baked plan to try and impress me or whatever. And your Sharingan is still active—stop wasting your chakra, idiot!"

"I'm not an idiot! You're so dumb! If you studied our kekkei genkai properlyyou'd know it barely takes any chakra to keep it active. Jeez."

"Stop calling me names! I'm—I'm out of here. I'm going home!" I turned on my heel and stomped away, careful to keep my kimono hem from dragging on the ground.

"You... Rika, the neighborhood is the other way." Pretty sure I heard him smack a hand to his face and sigh, fed up with how stupid I was being—but so was he, so I didn't bother looking back.

"I don't care! I'm going, so don't try to stop me."

"Fine. Night, Rika!"

"Fine—" When I did turn around to have the last word, he was nowhere in sight. "Did you just Body Flicker away and ditch me?!" There was no response; I may as well have been talking to the trees.

I was alone.

In the middle of a dark forest.

That jerk left me there all by myself!

Somehow, I navigated through the forest and found my way home, just a little worse for the wear than usual.

"Rika! There you are. You just took off so soon earlier." Emiko rushed outside to meet me as soon as she spotted me walking down the road and plucked a few stray twigs out of my loose hair (it had long since fallen out of its cute bun), checking me over carefully like fusspot moms tended to do and I was hardly in the mood for it. "What happened?"

"Nothin'." I crossed my arms and, despite trying not to be upset, I couldn't keep my cheeks from puffing out in displeasure. I mean, sure, Shisui and I had petty arguments in the past over silly, stupid stuff, but he never up and left me smack dab in the middle of the goddamn woods before. Didn't he know my internal compass was total shit? I was pretty sure I walked in circles for about an hour before I spotted lights in the distance that led me back to civilization.

He could have left me a map!

"Is it about the marriage thing? Look, you know your father and I are only looking out for you. I'm sure we'll find someone who—"

"I don't care about that!" I threw my arms up before crossing them again, tightly, scowling. "Don't care."

Emiko breathed a quiet sigh and finished straightening up my hair and kimono before grasping my hand and tugging me along after her. "Let's just get you inside for now, then. I'm sure you must be hungry."

"No? I'm not—" before I could finish my sentence, my stomach growled loudly. Way to sell me out. "…Hungry."

She smirked knowingly but didn't acknowledge the sound. "I made your favorite. Meatballs."

"Good."

"You're not very excited," she sat me down on the porch so I could kick off my dirty sandals and then opened the door before shuffling me into the house. "Something did happen, didn't it? I saw Shisui a little while ago and invited him to dinner, but he refused—can you believe it? He refused! When does he ever do that? But now...I think I know why he did. You two had a fight, didn't you?"

"Who cares? I don't. And I don't want him here anyway."

"...You two definitely got into some kind of argument." Emiko pursed her lips as she led me into the kitchen and sought out a damp cloth to wipe down my dirt-smudged face—I did trip and fall a couple of times on my way home. Because it was dark. Not because I was a klutz.

"Doesn't matter."

"It does matter. You should make up with him as quickly as possible."

"Why?"

"Because he's your friend. He's family."

"He's justa jerk with a Sharingan, far as I'm concerned."

"He showed you his Sharingan?" Satoshi, who entered the kitchen as soon as he heard us, piped in, sounding impressed. "Kou mentioned he'd awoken it over a year ago. I'm surprised it took him so long to show you. You two used to share everything right away. But, he has been busy..."

By the way he spoke, all approvingly, even he was proud of Shisui for awakening his Sharingan. Always failed to mention the little trauma-clause involved in obtaining it, though. Maybe it was a taboo or something. Maybe they just didn't want to acknowledge it most of the time because it would scare away potential talent. Or it just hurt to think about. Either way, the pride he spoke with stung, like a dig at my own normalcy.

"Whatever." I scoffed, nudging my tabi-covered toe against the floorboards while Emiko continued to scrub the dirt off of my face.

Satoshi sighed. "Is that jealousy I hear, Rika...? You know, it's not too late—"

I turned on Satoshi and curled my hands into fists, frowning. "I'm not jealous! Why does everyone think that?"

"Rika, watch your tone," Emiko warned.

"Well how many times do I have to say it? I'm already ten; I'm way behind. If I did wanna be a shinobi I should be a genin by now." I tried to push Emiko's hand away from my face, but she gave me a warning glance that froze me in my tracks.

Satoshi hummed in consideration, stroking his chin. "I could train you. Kou always offers to help, too—you'd catch up in no time. And, say, if you were to become a shinobi, we could put this whole marriage plan aside..." he trailed off nonchalantly, with a shrug.

"Are you tryin' to bribe me, Dad?"

"N-no!" he sputtered, waving a hand dismissively and smiling nervously. "Of course not, Rika. But, there would be so many options for you, if you did."

Emiko finally ceased her fretting and put away the dirt-smudged dishrag. "I think it may be worth saying now that most of our neighbors don't want you taking over my job because of your... unique color senses, actually."

Just what kind of ordeal was this—most of the time, you'd think people would jump at the chance to become little ninjas and have to work hard at convincing everyone that they were worthy. Not the other way around. Everyone was practically chasing me into the lifestyle!

Damn Uchihas.

"I...Okay! Fine! I'll give it a shot again—but just a single month—and if I don't like it don't ever bring the subject up again. Alright?"

Satoshi's face lit up in the brightest grin I'd ever seen and he pumped his fist into the air in victory in a very Kou-esque manner. "Alright!" At Emiko's bemused look, he cleared his throat and set his hands back onto the kitchen table meekly, blushing. "Then, we'll start first thing tomorrow. You won't regret it, Rika!"

Oh, no, I was sure I would regret it.

How did I get myself into these things...?

Chapter Text

"So...you are gonna be a ninja, Rika-nee?" Sasuke asked skeptically from his perch on my shoulders, where I held onto his legs to keep him from toppling right off. Kid was hyperactive and fidgety—if I didn't watch him every single moment he'd probably fall into the river. The only problem with his current piggy-back ride was that he had a habitual tendency to tug on my hair—just like he did when he was a baby.

Kid had problems.

"I swear, if you pull my hair one more time, Sasuke…"

He let go of the strands he was messing with and folded his arms across the top of my head obediently. Still tapped his fingers against my hair, though.

"I dunno," I continued, answering his question. "I just said I'm training. Seems like I can't get away from it no matter what I do." Last he heard, I firmly denied ever taking part in the lifestyle. No wonder he was doubtful, being told one thing and then flip-flopping to another. Hope I didn't mess his head up.

"Are you gonna awaken your Sharingan? Itachi's already gotten reeeally good with his," the kid bragged, and I could practically hear the smirk in his voice. How endearing. And annoying.

"Who knows." Itachi had probably already mastered his, just like Shisui. Unlike them, I probably never would even if I did somehow manage to acquire mine.

But—the way Sasuke talked about it was so naïve. I wonder just what they told him about the dōjutsu. Surely not something like, 'hey, little guy, you'll get your very own Sharingan when you witness the murder of your entire clan! And then later on, when your teammate nearly dies, you'll get another tomoe!' Right on. Sounds like the life.

"Then, what are you learning now, Rika-nee? Itachi promised me he would help train me when I'm old enough to attend the Academy, but that's so far away..." he trailed off, but his intent was apparent.

"I'm not gonna teach you anything, so don't even ask."

"Eh, stingy."

"I don't know that much. I can do a couple katon jutsus. I'm not too bad with kunai, when the targets aren't moving. I suck with shuriken. And genjutsu? Haha, what's that?" Pretty sure I wasn't even at child Obito's level at this point and that wasn't exactly something to be proud of, aside from the Fireballs I could do really well when I put actual effort into it.

"What kinda hand seals do you know?"

"All of 'em. Well, sort of. I still have trouble with the bird and dragon seals, though. I forget what they look like 'cause they're kinda complicated." Couldn't just tell him I was too damn lazy to commit them to memory properly.

Satoshi was fair with his training (Kou was another story), but I was a difficult student. I wasn't even sure if I could become an official shinobi with a home-school ninja crash course—maybe he would send me up to the Academy when a genin exam took place after arranging something with the teachers? If kids like Itachi and Kakashi could graduate within one or two years—disregarding the fact that they were geniuses—the curriculum must have been pretty flexible. Not to mention, big-name clans tended to train their own in addition to sending them to Academy classes. There had to be some kind of workaround.

...But then I would have to be a part of a team. Ugh.

"Hey! It's Shisui!" Sasuke suddenly shouted out, and I saw his little arm reach out as he pointed down the street towards someone who, from behind, actually did look like Shisui. No idea how he recognized him so fast, though.

Wait—he wasn't alone. Any other time I probably would have overlooked it since he was a popular guy, but there was a cute girl standing pretty close to him—just one and not like, ten—and the two were chatting. They looked pretty happy.

"Hey—"

"Shh! Hold on, Sasuke!" I reached up and did my best to cover his mouth before he got Shisui's attention, which was really difficult when I was trying to balance him on my shoulders at the same time—and I swear I didn't almost drop him again. We took cover behind a food cart when Shisui and his girlfriend (as in, female friend, because who knew if they were dating?) turned in our direction. They were too far away to have heard, but knowing Shisui, he'd pick us out in the crowd immediately even if we never called out.

"Huh? What's wrong, Rika-nee? You don't want to say hi to Shisui?"

"N—" I paused. Well, I was still pretty pissed at him from our stormy confrontation last week. I didn't really want to see him, but for the sake of the interesting situation unfolding before us, I'd put aside my annoyance. "No, it's not that, Sasuke. It's, uh—hey, how about I do teach you something I learned about after all?"

"Really, Rika-nee? Yeah! Teach me!" Sasuke wriggled and I lifted him off of my shoulders and set him on the ground beside me before he could fall on his own. "What are we gonna do?" He grinned, all baby teeth.

"Okay, this isn't something I should be telling you, but... I'm on a super-secret mission right now. Shisui is my target and I have to follow him—but he can't know it. It's the most important that he doesn't notice. So, if you're gonna help me out here, you have to promise me you can keep quiet and stay out of sight, too, Sasuke."

"I can, I can!" he yelled, but quickly lowered his voice. "I mean, I can. I promise." The expression on his face was so serious I almost laughed.

"Great. If everything goes well, I'll buy you something good from Auntie Uruchi and Uncle Teyaki's shop, okay?"

"'Kay!" He grinned, but winced at the volume of his voice. "'Kay."

For all intents and purposes, it looked like Shisui was on an authentic date.

The girl he was with was a good-looking non-Uchiha (they were easy to pick out in a crowd, plus everyone in the clan knew everyone else) kid with chestnut-colored, bobbed hair and dark eyes, dressed up in a cute, pale blue yukata that was about as short as a mini-skirt—I wasn't sure what those were called but they were pretty popular among the girls these days—and, because the material didn't entirely cover her legs, I could see a kunai holster on her left thigh. When I looked closer, I could see her forehead protector tied around her neck. She was a shinobi, too. A fashionable one, to boot.

And she was looking at him with eyes. The doe-y, head-over-heels kind.

Or maybe her gaze was just naturally sultry, since they were perpetually half-lidded. She looked at everyone like that.

Shisui, on the other hand, the dolt, seemed totally oblivious. She was probably the one who asked him out, if it was like that.

"Who's she?" Sasuke murmured from beside me and I dropped my hand on his head to keep him from leaning too far out from behind the building we were spying from.

"No idea. Girlfriend, maybe."

"Shisui has a girlfriend?" he hissed, glancing up at me in surprise. "But girls are—I mean, no offense, Rika-nee, but—girls."

"Nice observation." This was really the kid who would grow up to be an ultra S-ranked threat to the ninja world at one point. I ground my palm against his spiky hair in a half-hearted noogie. "Don't be like that. It's just something that happens. I'm sure you'll have a girlfriend, too, one day." Eventually. Oh, yes, eventually. And then a wife. Would have been inclined to say or boyfriend, too, but…well.

"Ah, they're coming this way," Sasuke pointed out, and when I looked, Shisui and the cute girl were really close—like, barely a meter away, but they were distracted. I snatched the kid up in my arms and dove behind a nearby storage crate, smacking my head against the edge in the process.

"Ow ow ow, shit—" Sasuke's eyes widened in alarm. "Shiitake mushrooms! That's what's in this box!" I quickly pointed to the label slapped onto the side of the crate which, incidentally, was exactly as I said.

Who was the one who said I would make a good shinobi, again? I could barely pass as a proper spy. At least I could think pretty fast on my feet to keep from teaching a kid some nice new swear words, though. Sasuke soaked up new words and phrases like a sponge.

Fortunately, this little incident didn't arouse any suspicion—except from the shopkeeper who ran us off with a broom when he found us hiding behind the produce crates.

"What are they doing, now...?" I muttered, holding Sasuke up so he could see over the edge of the display of bonsai we'd taken refuge behind, while Shisui and his date browsed one of the shops nearby. From what I could see, it was jewelry and trinkets.

Were they that serious already? He hadn't even mentioned any girlfriend before!

...And they were only eleven!

"Lookin' at boring stuff. When is this gonna get exciting, Rika-nee?"

"Learn to have some patience, kid." It was plenty exciting for me. Like some kind of real-life drama show on TV—Emiko and Satoshi didn't approve of things like that, so we didn't even have a radio in the house. One time, long, long ago, I'd been a TV junkie. This was all I had, now.

"Ah!" I grinned when Shisui held up a hairpin or some type of hair ornament—if he was any kind of romantic, he'd try to match it up to her hair—but then set it back down in its display case with a frown, looking puzzled.

What an idiot.

Then, his little girl-friend rushed over to him modeling a shiny hairpin herself, doing a happy little twirl and fluffing her hair a bit, and even though he smiled in response, he was still confused. Then, he reached out and removed the pin from her bangs before examining it, testing the clasp to make sure it wasn't fragile, checking the weight as it sat in the middle of his palm—

Sasuke was right. This was so boring.

But then again, it wasn't meant to entertain.

I straightened up, no longer needing to hide, and held my hand out to Sasuke after Shisui and his little girl-friend said their goodbyes before parting ways oh-so anticlimactically. "That's it for this mission. Come on, Sasuke. Let's go get you something to eat before I take you home."

"What, already? That was... whatever." He gave up pretty quickly. Probably noticed it wasn't so exciting after all. "How did I do, Rika-nee?" He grabbed onto my hand and swung our arms back and forth as we headed in the opposite direction Shisui went.

"You did pretty good, Sasuke."

"Yeah! I can't wait to tell Itachi about my first mission ever!"

"No!" I squawked out a really undignified noise and floundered my hands before grabbing him by the shoulders. "No, you have to keep this top-secret; just between us. Take it as a lesson in confidentiality as a shinobi-to-be." Jeez. If he told Itachi, no doubt Shisui would find out, and then things would get awkward fast.

"...Okay." He stuck out his lower lip and frowned at the ground, looking crestfallen.

Maybe it was a little cruel, making up a mission and then making it so the kid couldn't brag about it to his beloved bro later on.

Oh well. I'd make it up to him.

I ruffled his little duck-butt styled hair again and grinned. "Come on, I told you we'd go to Auntie and Uncle's bakery, right?"

"Yeah!"

We ended up going back to the market district when I remembered Mikoto sent us out for groceries before we'd gotten sidetracked.

I said my goodbyes to Sasuke and Mikoto after delivering both her child and her groceries to their house, politely rejecting the offer to stay for dinner because Satoshi mentioned wanting to continue our training in the evening earlier that day. He wanted me to become proficient with all of the hand seals before moving on to other things, like taijutsu—which was going to make me cry, I was sure. Mainly because Kou would be the one to help out with that and he didn't discriminate against kids or girls.

He was kinda rough.

No wonder Shisui was so talented.

While walking towards my own home, I dug through the bag filled with sweet buns I'd picked up at the bakery. Auntie and Uncle—no notable relation, but everyone seemed to call them that regardless—were damn skilled at making all sorts of awesome pastries. They had pretty much everything under the sun and then some.

Emiko would hate me, but... I didn't think a little dessert before dinner would hurt. I unwrapped my favored custard-filled bun and grinned, preparing to bite a huge chunk out of it, but someone smacked my shoulder out of nowhere, startling the crap outta me, and the bun toppled out of my hands, cuing a mournful imaginary choir as it descended in slow-motion and landed in the dirt at my feet, tragically.

"No!" I whirled on the asshole who interrupted that beautiful moment between the sweet bun and me and shook a fist at them. "You—why—Shisui! Why did you do that? You scared me and look what happened! Jerk!"

Of all the people to run into. But—no, he did that on purpose!

"Rika..." Shisui glanced down at the paper bag I held safely in my other arm, which was filled with no less than three more of the same pastries, but he didn't say a word about it. Wisely enough. "Hey, why are you getting all out of sorts? I knew you and Sasuke were following me, you know. You were both plain as day." He set a hand on his hip and eyed me wearily. "What was that about?"

I shrugged and looked through the bag filled with sweets, counting what remained, puffing out my cheeks. Ah. One of Shisui's favorite pastries was among them, too. That only ticked me off more. Still, I managed a terse, unhappy response. "Sasuke's idea."

"Somehow, I doubt that."

"Doubt it all you want. He's a nosy brat." Okay, it wasn't the best defense, but like hell I was admitting to anything. I turned on my heel and started walking away, but he quickly fell into step beside me.

"Rika...are you still upset?"

"Me? Me, upset? You're the one who lost it!" I dug my feet into the ground and glared, hugging the bag of pastries to my chest to keep from smacking him in the face with it, because I'd already lost one and if they were all somehow crushed my heart would be crushed, too. And I liked these sweet buns a lot more than I liked him at the moment.

Shisui stopped too, grimacing as he held up his hands in surrender. "Right, right. About that... I said some things I shouldn't have. I guess I was a little out of line." He shrugged a little, letting his eyes trail away before returning them to me.

"Just a little?"

"Rika, I'm trying to apologize here. I'm sorry, okay? Will you forgive me?"

His usual grin was in place, but there was a tilt to his eyebrows—a nervous one. Otherwise, he seemed incredibly sincere and guilty over the whole thing (and he was right to be! It was the first time we'd spoken in a while and it ended up as a fight!). Back stooped slightly, hands in pockets, difficulty meeting my eyes—he didn't expect me to accept the apology.

It kind of hurt.

Well, he wasn't the only one at fault, here... I did say some pretty awful things to him, myself. Things like that just happened, sometimes, so there was no need to hold a grudge or hard feelings or anything. I knew that—or at least, I should have known that from the start.

I really was a kid sometimes.

I shifted the bag beneath one of my arms and sighed, setting my free hand on my hip. "You don't need to apologize, Shisui. We were both just bein' dumb. I mean, you seemed kinda stressed out and then I lost my cool. I don't think we really meant what we said, so... we're good."

"You mean it?"

"Yeah, you dope. I mean it."

"You're the best, Rika!" A second later, he grabbed me in a half-headlock, half-hug and ruffled my hair a little harshly, complaining—as usual—about how it just wouldn't sit flat against my head. Then, he gathered a clump of my bangs and snapped something around them before stepping back and beaming, proud of whatever he did. "I got you this as an apology anyway. Consider it an early birthday present!"

"Wha?" I touched the thing—a hairpin—and glanced around for a mirror or something to check it out with. Of course there weren't any around outside, but there was a bucket filled with water nearby.

It was difficult to see on the distorted surface, but there was a small, dragonfly-shaped barrette, wrought thinly in something silvery, messily holding back a section of my long bangs, pushed back near my right ear. The thing was pretty. Dainty, but not fragile. Who would've thought he'd actually have good taste—wait. I whirled on him and frowned, socking him in the gut. "This is what you bought today? Something for me? I thought you were on a date!"

One of Shisui's eyebrows quirked up as a smile tugged at his lips—he took the hit like a champ and didn't even flinch. "I figured you would—you're too nosy for your own good, Rika. But, no, that was just my teammate Kaede; I asked her to help me out."

"Oh, you do have teammates," I muttered, remembering that he actually had been a genin for a while now.

"Just the one," he replied, just a bit sadly.

So he'd lost a teammate—maybe that was one of the things that set off his Sharingan. A lot of things had happened with him and I really...didn't even know the half of it.

"But, you know, Rika, I really am sorry. I didn't mean to be so pushy. It's just..." he paused to adjust his forehead protector and sighed. "When I was younger, I kind of always had this idea that you, me, and Itachi would all become shinobi together and be a part of the same team someday, working together and all that. I knew it was just some dumb hope. Guess it was a little immature."

Damn. He was way more mature than me, no matter what he said. Apologizing and smothering pride are the hardest things to do, and he did it so easily. I was practically a brat compared to someone like him, and would still be even if I were my actual age.

I shoved the bag of sweet buns at his chest. "Here. It's my apology."

He took hold of it before they could all tumble out and looked up abruptly. "Rika—"

"I'm serious. I'm a total moron and you're way nicer than I'll ever be. Thanks, Shisui." I really was an idiot. There was no way he'd thought of me as some rival or stepping stone to lord his successes over. He was a kid who had his own dreams, too, even if they didn't hold up against something like clan loyalty and village loyalty. He was just a kid who wanted to have some fun with his friends while he still could.

"Like you said, we're good, right?" he began again, smiling slightly. "But, Rika...are you gonna let go of the bag or not?"

I shook my head, smiling brightly and digging my fingers into the paper bag tighter. "Sure."

"That's so confusing. Here, I'll give you one to make up for the one that dropped, deal?"

"Alright. Deal." I let go of the paper bag and held out my hand expectantly, and he relinquished the long-awaited custard bun without complaint.

And with that, our bad feelings and misunderstandings were resolved. All with the power of sweet buns.

Chapter Text

To be perfectly honest, training with Satoshi was boring. And the promised month wasn't even halfway over! Even taijutsu sparring with Kou was uneventful—but mainly because I got my ass handed to me each and every time and there wasn't much variation to look forward to there.

Bastard knocked one of my teeth out once.

I mean, I was learning, granted, but all of the effort it took to climb up that slippery slope to ninjahood was beyond worth it. Beyond in the negative direction, as in, totally not.

I grew to have a great deal more respect for both Itachi and Shisui after enduring all of the muscle soreness, bone aches and bruises, at least. My tolerance for pain was severely lacking—compared to them, I was a total weenie. A total sad failure of a kunoichi-to-be.

Well, the life wasn't for everyone. But that didn't mean I was ready to give it up just yet. Sure, I was weak, but call me stubborn.

Whenever I had down time, though, I made sure to make the most of it. I wouldn't let my reputation fall into disrepair even if I ended up becoming a ninja. No one would forget the trouble I caused.

It really helped to have Sasuke as a cover. Because he was a kid, there were things he could do that he would get away with, which would seem totally bizarre and suspicious if I did them on my own—that was one of the upsides to being his babysitter. And he never suspected me of anything; he usually went right along with my plans because he'd finally come to appreciate my presence and stopped comparing me to Itachi.

Today, that thing I couldn't do by myself was beetle hunting, and Sasuke brought the nets and storage containers.

"Alright then, I'll be watching from here. Don't go too far!" Mikoto smiled at us as she settled down beneath a shady tree and pulled out a book to read. She'd accompanied us to the park this time because it was such a nice day and all of her daily duties had been completed, leaving her with spare time. There was a picnic basket at her side, too, filled with our lunch—we'd all helped make it some way or another so of course it had tons of tomato-based dishes thanks to the little brat.

"We won't!" I waved at her with my free hand before returning it to the pole of the net. I wondered if Sasuke had ever actually been bug hunting before, since he had all the gear but no advice or bragging to offer up. "Are you ready, Sasuke? We're lookin' for the really big, horned ones. Stag beetles. Rhinoceros beetles and, uh... those kinds." I wasn't completely sure what they were all called, and I'd only ever seen them in two-dimensional form in games and anime, but...that's kind of where I was at the moment. They should exist.

"Like Hercules beetles, Rika-nee?"

"Yep!" Trust little Sasuke to confirm my worries.

He pumped his little arms into the air and grinned. "Yeah! I'll find all the best ones! Then I'll give the bestest best one to Itachi."

"Sure, sure. Just keep in mind we're collecting them for a specific purpose." If I didn't stop him now, he'd try to bury Itachi in all of the beetles he caught.

"What was it again?"

I scanned the tree trunks and treetops, shrugging. "Well, I'll tell you when we catch enough of them. A dozen or so should do. At least half a dozen. Consider it the end prize."

"Alright! Hey, there's one!" Hyperactive as ever, he was the first to take off.

The kid was a pro.

Only about half an hour after we started our hunt, he'd already captured three decently-sized stag beetles, while I didn't have any luck at all.

Did genius Uchihas suck at anything?

Well, maybe socializing and showing their emotions. And painting. Yeah, let's leave it at that.

"How do you do that, Sasuke? You're like some bug whisperer or something," I groaned, plopping down onto the grass and dropping my face into my hands. It was frustrating—but it was also tiring. My stamina level was shitty as ever even though I constantly ran around making trouble, but then again it could have been due to the lingering exhaustion from training lessons. Either way, it was a hot as hell summer day—and in the Land of Fire, hot as hell was meant to be taken extremely literally.

I was pretty sure I could fry an egg on the rooftops and—actually, that was a pretty good idea, now that I knew where the chicken coops and eggs were located. I made a mental note to try that out sometime before the season ended, before glancing up at Sasuke to make sure he hadn't run off on his own. We weren't too far from Mikoto, but with the tree coverage around us, she was no longer in our sights. I didn't want to spend most of my day chasing after the kid.

But the first thing that came into my line of vision was a giant, hairy, leg-wiggling spider. Like—a giant spider, the size of my damn hand, just squirming around mid-air as it hung from a tiny thread of web Sasuke was dangling it from.

Right. In. Front. Of. My. Face.

"Sasuke get that thing away from me!" I choked out while scrambling away from the arachnid like my life depended on it, and it could have because I didn't know if it was venomous or not! Why was he even touching something like that?!

A small grin worked its way onto the kid's face as he straightened up from his crouch and stepped towards me, still holding out that god damn spider. "Rika-nee, you're scared of spiders?" Step. Step.

I jumped to my feet and held my hands out, shaking my head and holding my ground but ready to flee at the drop of a hat. "No, no way. Just—just put it back. We're not hunting spiders, y'know, we're looking for beetles and—"

He charged at me, grinning widely. "But look, Rika-nee, this spider is so cool!"

"Nonono, go away!" I shrieked, nearly tripping over my net as I all but jumped away and he laughed. He laughed the whole time he chased me through the forest.

Kid found new ways to torture me every day.

I hoped Mikoto would be my saving grace when I reached her, but Sasuke continued holding onto that stupid spider even when he was within her sights and went straight to her as soon as he spotted her.

"Mom, Mom, look!" He held up the spider for his mom to see and she didn't even so much as grimace.

"Oh, isn't that nice, Sasuke? Did you catch that by yourself?"

"Yeah!"

"Once you put it back, we can have lunch, okay?"

"Can I give it to Itachi?"

"No, Sasuke, you should leave it in its natural environment. Stag beetles are enough for now."

"Aw. Okay, I'll put it back." With that, the little duck-haired kid scurried towards a tree and released the spider.

That was some solid, fearless parenting right there.

In the end, we only managed to catch the three stag beetles—one of which Sasuke kept for his brother, so two were all we really had to work with.

"What's this for?" Sasuke wondered as we set small rocks and pebbles in a circular pattern in the dirt.

"It's a fighting ring. We're gonna train the beetles to fight."

That's right. My grand master plan was to start up a beetle fighting competition and invite all of the local children to participate and watch—all after paying a proper fee, of course. Bets were optional.

"Like ninjas?"

"...Yeah. Like ninjas." Well, he wasn't wrong. Actually, I could probably work in something like "Beetle Taijutsu Takedown" to the attraction. Kid could be pretty helpful sometimes, even if he wasn't trying to be. Was that what they called natural talent...? Whatever it was, as long as it worked out in my favor it was fine. I pointed at the storage container where our two star fighters resided and grinned. "Release the beetles, Sasuke!"

"Right!" He carefully placed the two stag beetles into our makeshift ring and...they didn't do anything. Literally, nothing, except wriggle their little feelers around. "What now, Rika-nee?"

"Um," I rubbed my chin, eyeing the beetles blankly. I didn't actually think it all the way through—I had no idea how to make them fight each other. I reached out and prodded one forwards until it was face-to-face with the other. "Go, fight! Use Tackle!"

They still didn't move.

Well, they were no pokemon, but it was worth a shot.

"I think they need somethin' to fight over," Sasuke muttered, leaning his chin on his folded arms as he sprawled out on his stomach in front of the fighting ring, kicking his feet back and forth in the air. "Right? Fights just don't start out of nowhere."

"Yeah, you're right." I picked a piece of rice off of my leftover lunch and dropped it into the ring near the beetles. Probably not a normal part of their balanced diet at all, but maybe it would do something. "Maybe they need some twigs and leaves. I'll be right back, watch them for me."

It didn't take long to gather a few leaves, since we were still near the outskirts of the forest.

But when I returned, the beetles were nowhere in sight.

And Sasuke was sleeping.

"Sasuke!"

It turned out beetles fought over prospective mates—we'd gotten the information from Itachi, of all people (because Sasuke mentioned beetles to him in passing and he was a veritable wealth of info on almost anything, who also, contrary to popular belief, actually managed to have some semblance of a proper childhood before everything went to hell in a hand basket with the clan, even if it was only for a short time), but once we figured out how to instigate a battle, we were on the fast track.

Our two champion fighters were a stag beetle named Tetsuo and a rhinoceros beetle named Kenta.

Of course, the fighting matches were more or less fixed. After we'd trained them up and tested their talents—Kenta was the strongest of the pair, able to throw Tetsuo over onto his back after a valiant struggle, but sometimes Tetsuo came out as the underdog victor. He was smaller, but he had a hell of a lot of fight to him.

And I mean a helluva lot. He pinched my fingers more times than I could count, and my nose too—but that was Sasuke's fault.

Finally, the premier day of our big show came around. It wasn't a specially picked or premeditated date or anything—just the day when the local park was the busiest and the most kids were around, nosy enough to come and see what me and Sasuke were up to.

"Hey, hey, who's ready to see somethin' really cool, huh? Step right up and pay a minor fee to witness the amazing, once-in-a-lifetime battle between our two exotic star fighters trained in the best of world-class beetle taijutsu!" I hollered through a wrapped-up cone of paper that acted as a megaphone while Sasuke paraded a messily-drawn, brightly-colored banner that displayed the title of our event. Behind us was a tree stump cut down to a nub that was just high enough to act as a fighting ring and on either side Sasuke had set up the containers that held both Tetsuo and Kenta, respectively.

"A beetle fight? What do we gotta pay?" A little rambunctious girl from within the small crowd, with twin buns set high on either side of her head, asked as she crossed her arms. She was kind of scratched-up from whatever she'd been playing before coming around to our attraction, and the look on her face was torn between amused and skeptical. Challenging. I was pretty sure she was a mini-Tenten.

"Two ryō! But candy is also accepted. And if you don't have anything on ya, I'll write you up a voucher that states you have to take care of one of my or my assistant's daily chores. And I don't forget a face!"

They were little kids, so I was only charging them pocket change—I figured they had at least that much. But the spectator fee wasn't the important charge—the betting rounds were where I was aiming to make some quick cash. But we would only start those if the first round went off without a hitch.

The small group of toddlers and youngsters all checked through their pockets before coming up with a variety of knickknacks and other unidentifiable stuff in the form of payment, which Sasuke collected in the small tin we'd found especially for the event. For the ones who were broke, he handed off the voucher tickets I'd written up—just small slips of paper with the Japanese equivalent of an I.O.U.

I wasn't really going to force them to take care of our chores.

Then, they all stood around the little fighting arena while Sasuke and I prepared to set our fighters free.

First, Tetsuo.

"In this corner, ladies and gentlemen, we have our Konohagakure-born-and-raised, upper-body strength specialist,Tetsuo! Small but full of spit, he'll fight until the very end and try to turn the odds in his favor if they aren't already." While I spoke, Sasuke set our stag beetle onto the tree stump and grinned. "He's traveled the world participating in competitions and came out of the Land of Wind's final throwdown as the ultimate victor!" The kids all gasped and clapped in awe, completely eating it up.

Next, Kenta.

I carefully brought the rhinoceros beetle from his carrying case and set him down opposite the stag beetle. "And in this corner, we have a Kumogakure native who's also rated world-class, having two grand victories in both the Land of Lightning and the Land of Fire, heavy-hitter and all-around specialist, Kenta! He never gives up a fight and will secure a relentless victory no matter the price!" Lies, all lies. Yet, as before, the crowd of children (which wasn't much of a crowd at all, only a dozen or so) "ooh"ed and "ah"ed and shimmied forwards to get a better look at the two fighters.

Sasuke, in the meantime, pulled out the leaf-whistle Itachi had helped him make that would mimic the sound of a female beetle and instigate the two challengers to fight. And, once they were directly in front of each other, it began.

Tetsuo and Kenta locked horns, pushing their weight forward in an attempt to overpower each other.

"Would you look at them go!"

"Ah, Kenta is so cool!"

"Tetsuo is gonna win it for sure!"

"No way a bug from outside Konoha is gonna win!"

Kenta picked up Tetsuo and tried to toss him, but like a champ, he hung on and regained his footing, pushing back twice as hard with his little feet and, for the next few seconds, they were in a deadlock.

Meanwhile I took the entry fee tin from Sasuke and dug through it, noting that we'd only gathered something like ten small coins. And a couple of wrapped candies. A little pocket lint and someone's wooden shuriken toy. Not too bad for a first day. They would probably go and spread the word about the event after it was over and bring in another curious crowd sooner or later. Hopefully with some older kids who had some money—then the betting would begin.

When I looked back towards the fight, Tetsuo had Kenta backed up near the edge of the arena, almost knocking him right off, but Kenta held on with his horns, aiming to take him down with him if he fell.

I grabbed up my paper megaphone again and grinned. "Whoa! Is this match already near its end? Who will win this one?"

"Tetsuo!"

"Kenta!"

"Go, go, Tetsuo!"

Kenta stumbled, nearly losing his footing, but then slowly began to push back against Tetsuo and forcing him to return to the center of the stump. And, true to their names, they rose up on their hind legs like two bucks engaged in an antler fight.

Then, just before one could knock the other over, one of the younger kids bustled forwards and grabbed up both bugs in his tiny hands, pulling them away from their immediate match and marching away without a word.

"Wha—wait, what? Kenta! Tetsuooo!" I reached for the kid, but by then he'd already thrown the bugs into the air, where they spread their wings and quickly made their ways into the treetops.

"You can't fight bugs," the kid stated as he turned towards me, pushing his dark little glasses up on the bridge of his nose. "Why? Because it's inhumane." That said, he turned around and walked away, hands in his pockets, job done, like some tiny, mini-sized superhero.

Who the heck...?

"Ah, it's Shino..."

"Bug fighting is almost illegal in front of an Aburame."

Oh. Oh. Of course. It would have to be Aburame Shino.

The kids in the crowd muttered amongst themselves before losing interest in the interrupted event and going their separate ways, back to the sandboxes and swings.

At least they didn't ask for refunds.

Chapter Text

 Naturally, shinobi training with Satoshi didn't take. But, really, did you expect it to...?

I was a natural slacker, even if I had a semi-motivated spirit; my laziness won out in the end and kunoichi life started to lose its luster. Satoshi never brought it up again, and I was left to my peace for the next two years.

It was a bit worrying.

Satoshi and Emiko weren't looking too sprightly, lately—clan tensions continued to rise and, soon, I was sure Itachi would become a chūnin and be ordered to enter ANBU by Fugaku, since the next exam was coming up and he was around that age.

Then, it was only a matter of time... it was a countdown.

If I could do it without seeming crazy (and I did have my limits), I'd string up a huge banner counting down the few short years that I had left in this lifetime. As it was, I just had a calendar.

There wasn't much to do but wait until that Fated Day came around.

In all actuality, I was...well, pretty much a bum. A NEET. Being a slacker kid at age twelve, even as a civilian, was considered something kind of negative. Even normal children were apprenticed in some type of trade or art by now. But me? There wasn't anything I wanted to do. So, Emiko had me take care of minor chores for the local housewives and busy kunoichi within the compound. Shopping, some babysitting, house cleaning, even a little cooking (with constant supervision—people still had trouble trusting me not to ruin everything).

At least she never brought up the marriage issue again.

Even so, during one of my grocery runs for one of the pregnant clan mothers, I ran into quite the interesting opportunity.

"Hey! You!"

I almost didn't stop, but when I glanced over my shoulder, I found a generic-looking, dark-haired guy dressed in hospital scrubs approaching me and shaking a flyer stamped with a large (and ugly) Leaf symbol, looking completely desperate. His pathetic expression totally read like he'd chase me down if I ignored him so I didn't have much choice but to stop and see what the deal was.

But…just to make sure, I glanced over my shoulders to check that no one else would respond before pointing vaguely at myself. "Me?"

"Yeah, you!"

He crossed his arms and looked me up and down, maybe checking for ninja gear or a forehead protector or something—kind of started to weird me out because he was looking at me pretty intently for an adult staring down a preteen and if he tried anything funny I did know how to defend myself. I'd learned at least that much from Satoshi and Kou. But, to be fair, he only looked about five or six years my senior, still a teenager himself. Still definitely a kid to me.

"You don't look like you have anything to do. How would you like to become an assistant at our village hospital?

I looked like I didn't have anything to do? Rude. I was taking care of chores! But...I guess I did look a little bored with it all. It'd been a while since I was able to stir up any fun, what with Emiko keeping me so busy with all this running around. And I didn't even get paid for it! I crossed my arms, mimicking the man, and tilted my head. "An assistant? Like, to a doctor? A nurse? What's the catch?"

Scrubs guy shook his head. "No, no catch. It's just—we need some help lately. Someone to help work the front desk, someone to aid the nurses with clean-up and check-ups, dealing with minor things. It's not difficult and you'll get paid for your services!"

"Paid?" I grinned. "How much are we talkin'?"

He scratched at his hair as he straightened up, looking towards the sky. "Not much, but it's not a little, either. Five-hundred ryō an hour is reasonable, right? …I mean, it's better than asking for voluntary commitment. No one ever comes around when we mention volunteer work."

It was far from a ninja paycheck, but it wasn't nothing. I stroked my chin and sized the guy up before holding my hand out for the flyer. He gave it over without a word, looking hopeful.

KONOHA HOSPITAL— HELP WANTED

Seeking motivated individual to fill the spot of Novice Nurse's Assistant. Part-time or Full-time. Various responsibilities included. Training provided.

All applicants considered, Academy graduation not required. No previous experience necessary.

Your contribution is appreciated and greatly needed!

Boy, was it ugly. Hastily drawn up on garish, Leaf-stamped paper with the Head Doctor's signature scrawled at the bottom. If anything, they needed some lessons in design. No way I'd want to work for them with crappy non-eye-catching stuff like that!

They also, clearly, really needed help.

I glanced up at the scrubs dude again and shrugged. "Sure, why not. What do I gotta do?" It was a step up from babysitting kids who shit their diapers all day and being the clan's gopher, anyway.

Poor guy looked like he was about to cry—his shoulders drooped and he rubbed at his eyes before reaching into the backpack he carried and pulling out a stack of documents and shooting me a winning grin. "Here! Just take this home, read it over with your parent or guardian and fill out all the necessary information. It'd be best if you bring it by the hospital later today, but tomorrow is fine, too. Just drop it off at the front desk and someone'll look it over right away!"

I took the packet and nodded, a little hesitant. "O…kay." Really, I felt a little bad about getting his hopes up—what if Emiko and Satoshi said no? I mean, even if I would've kind of liked the occupation, I was their kid and they had a say over what I did because I was underage and lived under their roof. But, hey, maybe they would be happy for me.

Scrubs guy tilted his head a little as he kept watching me. "By the way, what's your name?"

"Uchiha Rika." I said the surname automatically, but, like when introducing myself to most of the villagers outside the clan, felt the tentative pull of nerves and heart-hardening that was brought about by the general, disdainful reaction to the clan name.

He didn't so much as bat an eyelash, and only smiled again. "Ah, nice to meet you, Rika! I'm Junichi. Hope to see you at the hospital soon!"

With that, he took off down the street, waving—nearly crashing into a group of pedestrians on the way.

I wondered if I'd be replacing him, because he seemed like a real klutz.

"I just don't know, Rika...I mean, the hospital, of all places?" Emiko fretted as she flipped through the application packet and eyed me with worry. No doubt she suspected I would only end up striking up mayhem and disorder, maybe end up killing some poor, injured sap or something with my rambunctious nature. "What do you think of this, Satoshi?"

Satoshi was busy reading the newspaper, hardly paying attention at all. Ever since I gave up shinobi training, we sort of...drifted. It could have been due to the clan changes, too, though. He already had stress lines and wrinkles and he couldn't have even been in his forties just yet. "Hm? I don't see a problem with that. She needs something to do, Emiko."

Ouch, even he knew I was lazy.

Emiko pursed her lips, containing a sigh as Satoshi didn't provide the objection she clearly wanted. "But, of all places... I mean, she's been doing so well taking care of local requests." Where I can keep an eye on her. Probably exactly what she was thinking.

"We can't keep her within the compound forever." He flipped another page, keeping his tone cool.

"Hey—you're making me sound like some sort of shut-in. I do go out past the walls every now and then." I poked at the newspaper Satoshi hid behind, but he didn't show a reaction even as the material crinkled and folded in on itself, obstructing whatever he was pretending to read. Didn't stop him from pretending to read the fallen page upside-down.

"But—it's the hospital! Do you know how dangerous a place like that could be?" She set down the papers and reached for the pen, tapping it irately on the table, and continued to stare at her husband, who blatantly ignored the both of us.

"It's prob'ly just paperwork and whatnot. Clerical duties. The most I could do is spill ink everywhere and—" I caught my tongue at sharp look she sent me. "I didn't mean it like that! Jeez, Ma."

Slowly, her expression fell into a frown of resignation. She still wasn't pleased in the least with this new turn of events. "Is this really something you'd like to do, Rika?"

"What, you think the responsibility would be too much for me?" And here she'd been the one who always tried to help me get my shit together with being responsible. It was a golden opportunity and she was wavering with indecision!

"No, no, I just..." she tapped the pen against the tabletop and hummed. "I've been thinking about asking Satoshi if he'd find a place for you at the police department..."

"What? Fugaku would have a heart attack if I was there!" Hell, I'd caused so much trouble for the police squad over the years that they got antsy every time I walked near the place. I wouldn't be surprised if they had a "No Rikas Allowed" sign posted up in the building!

But, along with that, police work just sounded so stuffy.

"Rika, don't speak that way about our clan leader." Satoshi interrupted sharply, without glancing up, but didn't bother to challenge the idea his wonderful wife presented.

"Sorry, sorry, but—you'd rather have me mixed in with the police than at a hospital? Aren't you afraid I'd let all of the criminals go or something? I'm like Public Enemy Number One to them."

Emiko fell silent for a few moments, eyeing Satoshi pointedly—who just as pointedly ignored her and kept right on reading. "You're right, you're right. It was a silly idea. The hospital is fine, Rika." With a sigh, she skimmed through the application forms and signed wherever a guardian's signature and whatnot was necessary. It was the same procedure from the old world. Tedious and personal.

The next morning, I headed straight for the hospital.

Working at the hospital was hell.

But, admittedly, it wasn't the worst that could be.

Poor nurses and doctors were so busy that they were in dire need of assistants to help balance the workload—hell, I needed an assistant to help me out, but instead of that, we all sort of helped each other get everything taken care of. It was an efficient (but hectic) system.

And, because I was doing a little bit of everything short of jobs that required actual accreditation and license, I learned a lot of helpful things, too. I became a pro at managing and organizing the filing system. I figured out the proper way to disinfect and bandage a cut and minor injuries, how to set splints—and even how to apply a tourniquet.

Grossly enough, I also learned the best way to clean out bedpans.

But, on the plus side, I got to wear a cute little pink pastel nurse's outfit that was a welcomed contrast to the usual Uchiha uniform of gloom-and-doom darkness.

The actual, non-civilian healers could get pretty uppity from time to time—that was the only drawback to working in the hospital. They were all part of some better-people's club that thought they were hot shit because they could mould chakra really well and threw around their weight because of it. Don't get me wrong, they were excellent at their jobs, and a necessary part of the system, but they could be assholes.

Hell, if I'd really wanted, I could have become a medic-nin, too! That'd show them.

There was a second drawback to their presence, too, though. Because there were shinobi present among the workforce, quite a few of them were aware of what my clan heritage implied. Apparently, Uchihas didn't wander too far out of their lane and only a very, very rare few ever drifted into the medical profession. I stuck out like a sore thumb—an amputated sore thumb.

(Did I mention there were a lot of unattached body parts involved in this job? Because I'd seen more dismembered fingers and arms, even legs and feet, than I'd ever ever wanted to see up close.

Shinobi could be really reckless.)

Oh, and there was one other drawback to working in the hospital that wasn't technically related to the job itself.

Apparently, thanks to my beloved Uchiha genes, I wasn't all that bad looking. In fact, I was pretty popular among the younger crowd of patients, even though I didn't really understand what kind of appeal they managed to find buried under my troublemaker appearance.

Messy, unbrushed spiky hair that fanned out weirdly to the sides, long, thick bangs that hung in front of my face and barely gave room for my eyes, a stick-thin, prepubescent figure that made me look all of nine instead of twelve, and a really short stature. Hell, Itachi was already taller than me and he was two years younger! It was a huge blow to my ego. Shisui never let me forget I was so short, either. Well—I mean, at least my skin was pretty clear. But who really paid attention to something like that?

And, to top it all off, I wasn't all that nice. Polite, sure, but I could get pretty dry and snarky within those bounds. The attitude left much to be desired, so whatever these youths liked about me was buried pretty far under—and it was pretty commendable that they found it at all.

Maybe the Uchiha name just attracted fans no matter how good-looking you were. It was something like a coming-of-age phase—survive the hordes of admirers and, as your prize, you'll become good-looking for the rest of your life and have to deal with the same problem forever! P.S. There really is no prize.

The coming-of-age part was accepting the fact that you'll have to deal with it until death. I mean, hell, Madara was still pretty damn fine even when he was all aged and decrepit—there had to be a few elder ladies out there who were into that and would loyally make up his fanbase following. He'd definitely be popular in an old folk's home if he'd retired to one of those places instead of plotting and brooding in some dark, musty ol' cave in the middle of nowhere for his final years…

But, old antagonists aside, during the first two months I worked in the place, about six different infirm, newly-appointed genin or otherwise normal civilian boys—and one girl—professed their love to me on separate occasions. It was flattering, really, but—can I say ick? I was so much older than these kids that it was criminally uncomfortable.

The gesture was sweet, though.

"You're a natural heartbreaker," Junichi commented uneasily after I turned down the seventh lovestruck preteen confession, which he'd been around to witness. There really wasn't any privacy in the whole hospital, so news traveled fast. "They really seem to like you, though. Can't understand why."

I emptied out the trash bin from a recently-vacated room into the larger bin as easily as I dumped those kids' feelings and shrugged. "Natural charm."

Junichi gave an honest laugh. He was the easiest coworker to get along with, a little high-strung and skittish, but he was a nurse who cared deeply for his patients. Plus, he didn't discriminate against me for clan affiliation. Apparently, civilian-born citizens didn't really care much for that sort of affair. Really put the whole thing in perspective for me.

Because shinobi were the main focus of the village, and because it was a ninja village, it would seem they made up the majority of the population. But there were just as many normal people mixed into the crowd—it was an even ratio of about fifty-fifty. Several civilians resided in a hidden village like this under the assumption that it would be safer and more peaceful than living anywhere else within the country.

Well, when Orochimaru, Madara, and the Akatsuki weren't around to break everything, that was pretty much the truth. There were barely ever any serious threats around here that the typical citizen would have to worry about.

"Why do you turn them all down, though? When I was your age, I would've jumped at a chance for a date! Heck, even now I would." He gave a wistful sigh, checking a clipboard over for his next stop. Probably didn't realize what he'd just said, either. The kid was the type who didn't think before he spoke and lacked one of those helpful internal verbal filters.

But it made him a pretty easy target for fun.

"You're not popular, are you, Junichi?"

"That's—that's not what I meant. I-I can get a date! Just—I'm just always busy...that's it. That's all." He was flustered, now. But it was kind of pathetic too—I felt a little bad for him. "I haven't had one in about two years or so but I can get one, okay?"

"Okay, okay. I believe you. Maybe I'll put a good word in for you with the good-looking people who come in for treatment. There's this one really cute girl around your age down in the east wing who—"

"No."

"Then, there's this really cute guy with a broken leg just a few doors back from us right now, he's in his early twenties, but—"

"I meant no thank you! I don't need help from a kid, Rika. You should worry about your own love life and have some fun. You don't have a boyfriend…do you?" He pointedly eyed the dragonfly hairpin and I reached up to it on reflex.

"What—this? You think I have some admirer who gave it to me?" I nearly cracked a grin.

"Well, you blab on about your family so much that I figured you'd have mentioned if they gave it to you as a gift. Plus, you're always wearing it." He nodded, sagely, then smiled an obnoxiously shit-eating smile. "Sooo, is it true?"

"No way in hell! I got this from my cousin as a birthday present!" I stuck my tongue out.

Junichi's grin visibly fell in disappointment. "Ah, cousin, huh...? Here I thought you had some secret love affair going on." His eyebrow quirked up. "Well, I mean, just because it's your cousin doesn't mean that's no longer an option! I mean, inter-family marriages have sort of dwindled over the years, not to mention since you're part of an old clan, but still! It would be kind of forbidden, and exciting and—"

"Stop right there. That guy's like my older brother and he's important to me. Don't make it all weird, okay?" I cracked my knuckles almost absentmindedly and Junichi edged away a step. He was well aware I'd received some shinobi training and knew how to throw a proper, painful punch. But the first time I hit him was totally an accident. Like—my hand slipped and he just happened to be standing in the way.

"Right, right. Sorry, Rika. But you should loosen up a little. People—and not me, mind you—say you need to be a little more friendly and smile at the patients more or you'll scare them away."

"If that were true then I wouldn't get a love confession every other week."

"Point taken."

The patients I looked in on from time to time didn't only include random, smitten young shinobi and civilians. There were some familiar faces, too.

Or, in some cases, the lack of a face.

"Holy hell," I squeaked out as soon as I stepped into the room containing none other than Kakashi. The Kakashi. Hatake Kakashi! Future Sixth Hokage himself! Younger and definitely still in his ANBU days, but his was a face that probably anyone could recognize, myself aside. Mainly because it was always covered and a popular topic of discussion; instantly recognizable. He was a damn idol for crying out loud!

He didn't hear me—or if he did, he made no acknowledgment of the interruption and continued to snooze peacefully on.

I nearly dropped the basket of fresh sheets I was carrying because my hands were so damn sweaty all of a sudden. It was no mystery why, really—obviously it was Kakashi's fault. He was just...there! All sleepy and quiet and what if I could see his face? What if? Kishimoto always made sure to jab everyone in the gut by constantly teasing about it but never actually revealing the man's face, right up until the very end. This was a chance of a very short lifetime and I was gonna take it if I ever took anything in this second life. I mean, I deserved something like a souvenir even if it was just the sight of someone's face, right?

But—on the other hand, it was really…invasive. Maybe the man just liked his privacy and who was I to make some game about his personal life?

Against my better judgment, I found myself shuffling closer and closer to the edge of the Kakashi's bed—but not too close, because I'd be pretty freaked out if some random kid was hovering over me while I slept (my nephew did it to me once and it wasn't fun)—stopping just near the curtain that separated the two beds in the room.

I was such a creep.

But he was so pretty! He was super cool when he had his usual appearance, hair all spiked up and windblown to one side, scarred, Sharingan eye covered with his skewed forehead protector, but when he was sleeping, his hair was less unruly and it looked soft and touchable and his eyelashes were kind of long when I looked a little closer—

I was such a creep!

That can of worms was something I didn't want to touch. I forced myself to turn around and continue on with my task, which was changing the bedsheets of the unoccupied bed. Quietly. After that stalker-ish episode, I didn't think I could look the man in the eye if he woke up.

But I couldn't help glancing back at him every few seconds. Just to see if, maybe, the sheet had fallen off of his lower face and revealed it to the world (a.k.a. me).

—Nope. No luck. It was one of those things that would forever remain a mystery. To me, anyway.

Before leaving the room, I checked to make sure the water pitcher on Kakashi's bedside table was full, like I did with all of the other patients, and when I tried to sneak in one final glance, he was staring right at me with a tired, half-lidded lazy gaze—

Wait.

He was looking at me!

That was it. That was the day I died.

Show's over—everyone can go home now because there won't be an encore.

The end.

…But, really. Ninety-nine percent sure I experienced a minor heart attack that moment as I slammed the water pitcher back onto the table, nearly spilling it everywhere, and backed up towards the door (and ran into it before throwing it open), waving my hands back and forth like a moron. "I-I-I—uh—I'm just—there's water! Y-yeah, you're fine! Fine, as in, uh, good, not uh, good-looking or—well, you are good-looking, but that's not what I meant, I—bye!"

This was going down in history as the single most embarrassing moment of my two lives.

At least I wouldn't have to live with the humiliation for long.

When I stopped to think about it—especially after that intensely awkward, embarrassing encounter with Kakashi where I made a colossal moron of myself—it was probably some kind of blessing that I'd been reborn into this time instead of another, where I would likely have to deal with popular, gorgeous characters I wasn't related to on a daily basis.

If I'd been reborn in the pre-founding era as an Uchiha instead, for example, and I'd been around Madara for any period of time, I would have made such an ass of myself that he probably would have killed me just to spare everyone else from the secondhand embarrassment because, sure, he wanted to trap the entire world in some whack genjutsu that involved the moon or whatever, but he wasn't enough of an asshole to make everyone suffer that. Same goes for the Senju brothers, only, they probably wouldn't kill me and I'd have to live with being a humiliating, awkward person forever.

Don't even get me started on the Akatsuki.

So, in a way, I'd dodged a bullet.

Just from that one conversation with Kakashi—it couldn't really be called that, though—I already couldn't wait to die.

"You look miserable."

A hand settled down on top of my head and I straightened up from the medicine cart I was leaning against and glooming near, just praying I would never run into Hatake Kakashi ever again in what remained of my short life.

It was a familiar gesture, and with that voice, there was no doubt it was Shisui.

I glanced up at him and sniffled pitifully. "Shisui, I made an idiot out of myself."

He didn't look surprised at all. Not phased one bit. "Rika, that's nothing new." Said it with a completely straight face, even.

I shoved my hand against his shoulder. "Don't be a jerk! I'm serious! I'm mortified, here!" He winced a little and I remembered where exactly I was—a hospital. A place where most healthy people didn't usually find themselves. "Wait—Shisui? What are you doing here?"

"Dislocated my arm during training. I Just came to get it checked out and make sure everything went alright when Itachi helped me relocate it." Of course. Those two trained together whenever they could and it was no surprise that they got a little rough sometimes. "It's still a little sore, but it's alright."

"Ah, crap, I'm sorry...!" My hands hovered near his shoulder as I fretted over the injury, wondering if I made it worse because wouldn't that just be great for my career, and because it was Shisui and if I ever seriously hurt him somehow I couldn't live with the guilt, but Shisui only shrugged to make a point and worked his arm a little to show that it was in working order after a check-up and dose of medical chakra.

"Don't worry about it. But tell me a little more about what happened?" A playful grin rose to his face.

"Nothing, nothing. I just—don't ever let me near any hot men, okay?"

His grin fell slightly and its intent shifted into embarrassment. The same expression he used when I wreaked havoc throughout the district. "Oh no... Rika. Don't tell me you tried to kiss him?"

"Don't—don't be stupid; that was only something I did when we were kids! And I didn't even kiss anyone then, I just pretended to so they would leave me the hell alone." I crossed my arms and shrugged, pouting. Of all things, he had to bring up the Cootie Rika thing again?

"Then I'm sure you're just overreacting about it." He waved a hand dismissively and ruffled my hair again, pointedly avoiding the dragonfly hairpin so it wouldn't get knocked out of place but messing up my nurse's hat instead. "Your shift ends soon, doesn't it? I'll wait and walk home with you since it's getting pretty late."

I reached up to straighten the hat. "Sure! You're so reliable it's kinda embarrassing, you know?"

"Not as embarrassing as you, though."

"Jerk!"

My shift really was ending soon. Within fifteen minutes, my daily duties were complete and I was free to leave.

I spotted Shisui chatting with another shinobi in the waiting area and raised my arm to wave and catch his attention, but someone clearing their throat behind me caught my attention and I stopped to see what the deal was. It wasn't uncommon that I got stopped on my way out to take care of a couple more jobs because there was no telling when the nurses and doctors would get swamped, but that didn't sound like any of my coworkers or employers.

Behind me was a short boy around Shisui's age, nervously clutching a flower between his hands—probably one he'd gotten from one of his get-well-soon deliveries. He looked sick, but I think it was due to nerves more than anything. Once he was sure he had my attention, he looked up and held the flower—a daisy—out in my direction. "H-here! For you, Miss Rika!"

"What's the occasion?" I asked, taking the flower and twirling it, raising an eyebrow just to be a jerk. Totally knew he was trying to confess. I didn't really recognize the guy, or remember his name, but I was sure I'd stopped by his room at least once if he knew my name. Wow, I really was a jerk.

"I just—you're really pretty! And nice, and caring, always doing your job the best you can and... I really admire that! I like you Miss Rika—a lot! I love you!" he all but yelled, sure to cause a scene. Good thing I was about to get the hell outta there. The kid looked so shaken by his sudden, bold confession that his knees were trembling—or maybe he really was just sick and weak. He probably should have had his I.V. stand with him.

I smiled sweetly and took him by the shoulders before steering him down the hallway. "Oh, really? Thank you. Now, you should really get back to bed and rest, alright?"

His shoulders slumped and he hung his head, defeated. "Y-yes, Miss Rika..."

With that, he trudged down the hall, looking just as miserable as I'd felt earlier. Really, what did these kids expect? The hospital was a place to get well; it wasn't a place to find romance. This wasn't a TV drama!

Once the boy was out of sight, I turned back around and headed for the lobby, sighing. Now, I had a flower I had no idea what to do with. At least it was pretty.

Shisui openly grimaced as I approached. Obviously, he'd witnessed the whole thing, but then again probably half the hospital did, given how loud that kid was. "Rika...that was scary."

"What? Why?"

"I mean, it was a little harsh, don't you think?"

I shrugged. "No way. Besides, I'm mostly into older guys."

"Like the one you embarrassed yourself in front of?"

"Shut up!"

Chapter Text

One of the biggest drawbacks to living my life out a second time was the one most unfortunate thing that came with being a female—puberty. At least, I never saw it as something pleasant. Hell, who does like it? The monthly visitor was a huge pain—completely literal there—and then there was all of the developing involved in the matter. The hips, I could handle, but the breasts...? Just something else to weigh me down. Judging by Emiko's size, and my love for sugary and sweet, unhealthy things, I wouldn't be lucky enough to be small in that area.

If I had everything the way I wanted it, puberty could have been pushed off until I was fifteen or so, but nope. Mother Nature had other ideas.

And Emiko was more than happy to take me shopping for new unmentionables and feminine products—even if I completely rejected the idea and claimed I could do it all on my own. Hell, actually, I never even shopped for this kind of stuff with my original mother! She just bought it all for me and brought it home once she knew my sizes! Until I was old enough to do it all myself, anyway. I just knew Emiko was going to be naggy and doting and make the whole situation even more awkward than it already was.

At least it was only the initial phase of it all that was so embarrassing. After a while, it would become something routine; hardly something to bat an eyelash at, much less blush at. If Emiko butted out of that aspect of my life and let me be, at least.

I was pretty sure she'd already bragged to her circle of housewives and mothers that her "little Rika has begun to blossom" and wasn't that just disgusting? Here I thought I did a pretty good job of humiliating myself before she had to go and get involved in my adolescent life.

She should be happy I didn't dig around in her underwear drawer and run around with her bra on my head anymore—but the idea was tempting, for payback.

"Rika, dear, a brassiere does not go on the outside of your clothes. Please put it on properly."

Giving her a hard time was worth it, though. "I dunno, it looks kinda cool don't you think?" I spun around in front of the clothing shop's mirror and tugged at the straps of the cute, light-peach colored training bra strapped firmly across my deep-plum colored Uchiha shirt like a bizarre superhero costume. "Full support!"

She just barely resisted the urge to slap her hand to her forehead—I could tell by the violent eye twitch. "It's improper and you know it. Please try it on correctly so we can find out if it fits!"

"Aw, Mom, but—"

"If you don't behave, I'll make you wear it home like that."

"Can't I just wear sports bras? Underwire sucks!" I groaned, reaching around to unhook the damn thing—and letting Emiko help when I couldn't do it myself because I had T-rex arms or something. "Back clasps suck, too. I want something manageable."

She leaned back and sighed wearily before holding up about fifty other various, lacy, brightly-colored, polka-dotted bras on those tiny useless hangers that displayed them. "But—look, Rika, these are so cute!" she fawned, and I swear there were hearts in her eyes. And a bit of jealousy—bras her size didn't come with cute patterns and were only ugly shades of blah and bland. In a way, she was living vicariously through me, I guess.

"No one's gonna see them but me, though!"

"Oh—just go try them on!" She shoved the pile of undergarments into my arms and pushed me back into the small changing room without allowing room for further argument.

"Doesn't fit," I mumbled blandly, throwing one of the bras over the top of the flimsy curtain-doorway for Emiko to catch, followed by a handful of others. "Neither does this one! Or this one! Or this one, or—"

"Rika, are you even trying these on?! Don't make me come in there, young lady!"

"This one doesn't fit either—wait, wait, okay, okay, I'll try them on for real, get out!"

Ten minutes later, we left the store with three new cute, childish bras and a little less dignity than before—at least in my case.

And then came our mandatory visit to the feminine hygiene section of the grocery store.

I didn't even think people in this world needed those types of things, but I guess it would be pretty silly to think otherwise, since they were human, too. It just wasn't a topic many authors braved because it tended to be pretty awkward, rocky territory—especially for males. But then again, most normal bodily function topics were ignored or glossed over because it was sort of gross and off-putting regardless.

Either way, I would've preferred if I never had to find out the truth firsthand.

At the very least, this world provided proper, modern sanitary options. Nothing as convenient as tampons or birth control pills—maybe that was an option for some, though, I wasn't sure and Emiko didn't bring it up yet—but it was an improvement from the set-up women had during the mid-twentieth century and such that my first mom and grandma told me about. Ah...what an era.

Good riddance to that.

But, somehow, moms always had a way of making this type of thing uncomfortable and embarrassing.

"Do you think you need regular or maxi, Rika?"

"Mom! I don't know?! Wanna keep your voice down?" I waved my hands frantically and held my index finger to my lips, glancing around wildly to check and double-check no one else was nearby.

Shamless. She was shameless!

"Oh, why? It's a natural thing! I don't understand why you're overreacting so much." Emiko huffed, holding out the colorful boxes of pads and examining their contents, weighing the pros and cons of each type and brand. "These are cheaper, but... I don't know."

"I'm sorry I don't want the whole world to know I started my period!" I turned on my heel and marched down to the end of the isle before smacking my hand against my forehead, half-considering just running myself into a hard brick wall and knocking myself out instead to spare myself the Mom-induced trauma.

"Then you may want to keep your voice down a little," she grumbled from behind me, and I heard her set the boxes back onto the shelf moodily and rummage around, browsing the other products. I was too busy massaging my burning eyes to see what she picked up next.

(Hell, maybe trauma in the vein of humiliation qualified to awaken my Sharingan.)

"I—" Ugh. She had me there. Don't get me wrong—I wasn't really a prude about it or anything, but there were just some things that should be kept private in a person's life. My journey through puberty (for the second time) was my business and no one else's. Except my mom's. And maybe my doctor's.

Definitely not Satoshi's.

Definitely definitely not Shisui's or Itachi's or any other Uchiha's.

No one else's.

"Alright. Just get whatever pads sound best, okay?" I breathed out a sigh after counting to three and opened my eyes—only to see a face that I would rather, under normal circumstances, and especially after this moment, never see again. "Oh, come on!"

My face went up in flames.

It was Kakashi—again. He'd had the grand luck to be passing by the isle the moment I spoke and—poor guy—looked like a deer caught in the headlights. An extremely awkward deer. Who kind of looked like he'd rather get run over by the car with said headlights than be where he was now.

I did too, actually.

The preteen and beginning of teenage life wasn't always so laughable or damn awkward, though. In fact, that one little outing with Emiko was about the brunt of it.

Things were moving along and happening quickly, now, like a landslide of unfortunate events.

Kou died three weeks into the beginning of summer, leaving Shisui an orphan. It was from natural causes—possibly spurred on by his heavy drinking habits and sheer recklessness. Whatever it was, the root of it was kept confidential and he was cremated and mourned normally, as any other within the clan would be.

Shisui was pretty broken up over it. Emiko and Satoshi mentioned he'd been the one to find his dad dead, after returning home from a mission, but at least he'd gone peacefully. Could have been sleeping, from what I heard.

That event could have quite possibly been the occurrence that pushed his Sharingan into the Mangekyō state. I didn't know, and I couldn't ask about it. Not only out of common decency, but because I probably shouldn't have known that about the dōjutsu since I hadn't explicitly studied it. That topic wasn't something normal civilians would know too much about.

Clan tensions were as tight as ever—some days were better than others, but most of the time the atmosphere was so thick with animosity and paranoia that I could barely stand staying in the district. It really helped, having a job outside of the compound's walls.

There was no telling what was going on with politics and whatnot—since I was a civilian, I wasn't privy to those matters.

But everyone felt the stress.

Even they knew something was coming, even if they didn't know what.

I found myself missing the good ol' days when me and Shisui, and sometimes Itachi, could just act like normal kids and have fun worrying about normal, kid things and not ninja-world politics and fighting. But, most of all, I missed the days where I could dismiss all of this as fiction and go on living an average person's life...only occasionally worrying about politics and corrupt government and war...

It really wasn't all that different here in Konoha, if I didn't count the supernatural chakra powers and all that.

Well, maybe one day the village could find peace. That is, if the problems they'd been seeking to change had actually been changed and weren't just put off and postponed, shrunk, to come back bigger and stronger at a later time. That was the biggest farce of peace that ever could be.

Either way, I wouldn't be around to see it—not personally. Neither would Shisui. Or Itachi. Or any of the Uchihas besides Sasuke, who, in the truest sense, became the last-surviving member of his clan once everything was said and done.

I did wish those two were able to have more time together that didn't involve rallying up a coup or suspecting the elders, spying on the clan and trying to prevent mutiny... and I did wish Itachi and Sasuke were able to have more time together, too, to live and grow up properly as brothers. But it just wasn't in the cards; wasn't prescribed in paper and ink.

C'est la vie.

On the days where I wasn't working at the hospital, I still went to babysit or hang out with Sasuke and visit with Mikoto. Mainly because, even though she was the wife of the Clan Head, she didn't let clan matters interfere with her parenting or household (at least, when Fugaku wasn't around) and sometimes...sometimes, things felt normal there. Like everything might have just been an illusion and there was still some time remaining.

Three years—a little under—wasn't long.

It wasn't long at all.

"Rika, you look a bit distracted," Mikoto commented gently as she approached where me and Sasuke were drawing pictures atop the living room table. He was never let anywhere near paints again, thanks to our little debacle with the 'Itachi' mural, but crayons and colored pencils were fair game. No markers, though—that ended badly, too. For the walls of Mikoto's house.

"Me? Distracted? Nah, nah, I'm just concentrating super hard on this picture, Auntie!"

She smiled a smile that wasn't really a true smile but one of those skeptical ones that said "I don't believe you but if you say so I won't pry" and picked up one of the colored pencils that fell to the ground before setting it onto the tabletop between me and Sasuke, who was also extra-focused on his drawing, to the point where his little tongue was sticking out between his teeth and he didn't pay us any mind. I think it was a tomato or something. Maybe it was supposed to be a Sharingan. Or a very round Itachi.

"Working at the hospital must be...exhausting. And a little shocking, too. I can only imagine the things you see there on a daily basis."

Ah, she thought it was my job that was getting me out of sorts. A fair guess, since I shouldn't know anything about the clan's current state of affairs. Sure, there were stories, but clan-related gossip was highly frowned upon within the walls of the neighborhood. And also outside.

"Rika-nee pulled out a splinter I got the other day! She knows how to do it without making it hurt," Sasuke piped in from across the table, beaming. A second later, he buried his nose against the tomato-whatever-drawing and went silent again.

"Yeah, I guess so. It's not the kind of stuff you'd run into normally, at least. I'm just glad I get some down time every now and then."

"How would you like to take this lunch basket to Itachi and Shisui? They went out to train earlier today and should be worn out by now. Take Sasuke with you." Mikoto set a wicker basket onto the edge of the table as she spoke and a small, sincere smile rose to her face. It was her way of helping me take my mind off of whatever was troubling me—fresh air was good for that. And so was hanging out with friends and family.

"Yeah! Take me with you, Rika-nee, I wanna see Itachi train!" Itachi was the only thing that would make that kid abandon his messy sketch of a tomato—actually, it might have been a Sharingan (Itachi's, obviously) after all, now that I got a better look at it—and get so gung-ho about lunchtime.

"Alright. Let's go."

It was incredibly rare that all three of us had a day off at the same time and just so happened to be pushed into a situation where we would all hang out together—it felt like some type of calm-before-the-storm situation where the real turning point would soon be upon us.

Probably, the impending moment was when Itachi would enter ANBU. He'd already become an authenticated chūnin like Shisui, so it was only a matter of time.

But...when I saw those two fighting, giving it their all and just having fun, I didn't want those times to end.

Both boys had their Sharingans blazing, they were armed with kunai—Shisui was even wielding that tantō blade he carried on his back—and I was pretty sure by their mannerisms that they were employing genjutsu as well. Something else I never really could comprehend—only the victims of the attack really could, though, because it didn't appear that anything was happening from an outsider's point of view. It was a pretty powerful thing.

And they barely looked like they'd even broken a sweat, for supposedly training all morning. They never ceased to amaze me.

The match came to a jarring halt—but it wasn't like they were going at each other all-out anyway—when Sasuke waved his arms in the air and called out to his brother. "Itachi! Hey! It's lunch time! Me and Rika-nee brought food!" I tried to stop him from interrupting them, but the kid had a mind of his own. When he wanted something done, he did it. And that never changed.

"Sasuke? Rika?" Itachi's expression didn't shift much from its calm mask, but there was just a tiny bit of pleasant surprise in his tone when he spoke and glanced over.

Once the kid got the two boys' attention, he bounded right on over, grinning a bright, toothy grin and making a beeline for his brother.

I rolled my eyes and held up the picnic basket as I followed after him. "Aunt Mikoto packed it. She said you two would be beat by now, but it looks like you were just getting started. Are you even hungry?"

"I am!" After he and Sasuke exchanged a quick greeting before the younger boy became engrossed in an animated conversation with Itachi (nothing could interrupt those two; they were in their own little brotherly world now), Shisui sheathed his blade and jogged on over to me, taking the basket from my hands to investigate. It was nice to see he'd bounced back from Uncle Kou's death, but there was still something serious about him that just stuck no matter how upbeat he tried to be.

Ah, Right. It was the stress lines around his eyes. I knew they'd catch up to him sooner or later.

He was only thirteen—going on fourteen—but the youth had already fled from his features.

"Hey! Don't be so greedy, Shisui." I reached out to pinch the back of his hand when he tried to start eating the food Mikoto provided without everyone else and he recoiled, looking offended.

"But I said I was hungry." He rubbed his hand mockingly because like hell something like that hurt him even a bit, and put on a pouting face as I snatched away the picnic basket and closed the lid securely. "Don't be stingy, Rika." He faked a pout and I promptly ignored it.

"Itachi? Sasuke? Where do you guys wanna eat?" The training area they'd chosen was the spot by the cliff side that led down to the Naka river—a steep fall, but…also the location of Shisui's death. I didn't really think I could stomach it if they wanted to eat in that same area.

"Here is fine, isn't it?" Itachi responded, completely innocent.

Of course.

"A-ah, yeah, I mean—I dunno, it's sort of dangerous, isn't it? With the long drop and all." All three of them turned to look at me strangely. "What? What if Sasuke rolls right over the edge? He—he's been looking a little round lately!"

"He won't," Itachi replied evenly, ever the overprotective, loving older brother. But, probably against his better judgment, he did look down at the kid clinging to his leg to see if he was getting as round as I claimed.

He wasn't.

Shisui raised an eyebrow and crossed his arms, studying me carefully. "Rika... you're not afraid of heights, are you?"

"Me? Psh, no. Are you kidding?"

"Rika-nee is afraid of spiders," Sasuke contributed oh-so-helpfully, nodding sagely, like that information was the most important thing he'd ever filed away into his little sneaky brain. Really, of all the things to remember...

"Oh, really?" Shisui grinned smugly, totally amused by this revelation.

"Yeah, yeah!"

Damn Uchihas.

"You know, out of the three of you, I think I like Itachi the best right now." I sent them both the stink eye.

"Aw, Rika, don't be like that..." Shisui grinned apologetically and threw his arm around my shoulders, but really he was probably trying to get closer to the picnic basket and he knew I'd caught onto his intentions because he removed his arm the moment I glared and held it out of his sticky-finger reach.

"We can go somewhere else, then." Itachi cut in before the argument could escalate, ever the peacekeeper. "Anywhere is fine with me."

Sasuke nodded enthusiastically from his place beside his brother. "I go where Itachi goes!"

Shisui just shrugged. "Alright. Can I have something to snack on while we walk?"

"No way."

"Rika, that's so cold..."

"We won't go far. There's a clearing up ahead that's perfect for an afternoon picnic. It isn't like you'll starve, so don't be a baby."

That shut him up during the short walk to our destination.

I set down the picnic basket under the shade of the trees and started unpacking the food while Sasuke wrangled Itachi into teaching him how to properly hold and throw a kunai a little ways away, in the sunlight. Shisui lazily lounged against the trunk of a tree and watched the brotherly-bonding moment.

It would probably end with Sasuke nicking his finger on the blade and me patching up the scratch.

"They get along pretty well, don't they?" Shisui wondered, setting his hands behind his head and smiling faintly. Funny, now that I was actually putting out the food, he wasn't even paying it an ounce of attention. Sometimes he was just annoying to be annoying.

After a moment, he abandoned his spot against the tree and plopped down across from me, eyeing the four bentō boxes that were specially tailored to our specific tastes. Mikoto was magic with the kitchen and her cooking was way better than Emiko's—no offense to her but most of the time Satoshi had to save the meal.

Again, he didn't bother reaching for the food. "If I had a sibling, I think I'd want my relationship with them to be like theirs. Dependable and cute! But all I really have is you, Rika, and you're so self-reliant and stubborn that it's impossible to think of you as a cute little sister."

I managed a smirk. "To be honest, you're a perfect example of an annoying older brother, Shisui." He never tried to drown me in a pool or anything, though.

"Hey, remember when I used to spin you around so much that you'd puke when I put you back down?"

"Don't remind me! Emiko spanked me so hard because I ruined the tatami mats and it wasn't even my fault. I changed my mind—you'd be an awful big brother, Shisui."

"Harsh." He'd opened his mouth to say more, but I quickly pushed one of the lunch boxes in his direction and took off the lid. "Oh, time to eat!"

"Hey, Itachi, Sasuke? It's lunch time. Come on and eat now."

"'Kay! Come on, Itachi!" Sasuke tugged on his brother's arm as he hurried towards us, and the boy allowed a small, fond smile onto his face as he followed after his younger sibling without complaint.

They were a right pair of model siblings, there.

Sasuke demonstrated how Itachi taught him the proper way to hold a kunai before he sat down to eat, and I politely complimented him on the feat. His grip was still a little clumsy and I was worried he'd cut his hand right open, but it never came to that.

Aside from Sasuke's constant chattering and Shisui's clever remarks—and my inevitable addition of a few comebacks—the picnic was comfortable. Calm.

It was only a small fragment, but it was the last little peaceful interlude we would share together.

Chapter Text

For the next few months, I continued to work at the hospital and learned a few more handy life skills—I mean, knowing how to handle panicking patients and having to hold them down the proper way for them to get an immediate amputation was pretty important.

Only joking. They used anaesthetic for that.

(Who would hack off someone's limb without proper preparations, anyway? Actually, scratch that—some of the patients who came in with just bloody stumps had been victims of that. Shinobi didn't always have access to a sterile, safe environment and the tools needed for that type of thing, and sort of...just did it.)

Itachi was a part of ANBU, by now. Things continued to spiral downward with the clan and everyone was stressed out and worried, as usual. Sometimes I felt a little guilty about having all of this useful information but no way to really apply it and help out.

My goal was still to die—as morbid as that was—and see if it was at all possible to be reborn back into my own world. My own home. For all I knew, it was like some luck-of-the-draw lottery or Russian roulette where my little wayward soul was shot into another universe at random. I mean, I didn't exactly pick this world, to begin with. My hands were sort of tied in the matter.

I could only hope.

Working at the hospital kept me from causing too much trouble, much to everyone's relief. There wasn't really time to start up another bug-fighting betting circle, or even to try fishing in the canal again—the police department finally took down the signs, but I had a feeling it was still prohibited.

Itachi and Shisui were busy, like—super busy. I figured it would be a long, long while before I got to see either of them again. It was even rare to see Sasuke these days, because I couldn't snag another day off.

The longer I worked in the hospital, though, the less the patients around my age professed their undying affection for me. Apparently word got around and I'd been given quite a bad reputation as an ice-cold heartbreaker that would reject everyone. No idea where the "ice cold" part came from—I was always super affable with everyone! Even when I was crushing their hearts to pieces (hey, it's called a crush for a reason).

I managed to make a name for myself no matter where I went. But, it always worked out in my favor.

"Hey, Junichi."

It was an unusually boring day in the building, with a lull in the number of incoming patients and a dwindling number that were currently under our care. Halfway through the day, I'd already taken care of most of my duties and Junichi had, too, so all we were left with was free time to sit around doing...well, nothing. Until one of the patients called for us or a new one was rushed in. If the head nurse or medics happened to walk by, naturally we pretended to take care of paperwork and all that fun stuff, but otherwise time was filled with idle games of tic-tac-toe and bland pharmaceutical magazine browsing.

I would have looked for something fun to do in the hospital, but the first—and last—time I'd tried anything (surfing on the nurses' carts through the hallways) I almost got a concussion.

I almost got fired, too.

Talking to Junichi was all I had left to do.

Well, teasing him, really. He was sort of boring for an older teenager and there was a lot to criticize.

"Um, what?" He looked up from the mirror he was fawning over, fixing up his short, brown bangs and trying to find a new dorky hairstyle or something, and half-grimaced with uncertainty. We got along—we did—but he wasn't used to my bullying yet.

It was just how I showed affection.

"What the heck are you doing? Primping for a date tonight?"

Junichi shoved the mirror aside and set his arms on the desk, sighing. "No. I just thought I should cut it—it's getting a little long."

Long? His bangs barely passed his eyebrows! Maybe he was the type who tended to go with crew cuts. I liked to keep mine relatively short, too, because it was a nightmare to deal with long, always whipping into my face when the police chased after me…

Frankly, I didn't know how some shinobi kept their hair long. Even Itachi, who kept his back in a low ponytail. It just didn't seem like the most convenient thing to have to handle while fighting and running and all that. If it were me, I would probably catch it on fire or get it tangled in tree branches and the rest would be history!

"Hey, there're some scissors here—want me to take care of it for you? I'm kind of a pro." Lie. It was a bald-faced lie. The last time I was let anywhere near scissors, Sasuke's hair paid the price. But, in my defense, he really looked better without the weird long bangs in the front. And it grew back!

"No thank you. I have a feeling that would be a bad idea." Junichi was pretty good at catching lies.

"Then, wanna go on a date or something?"

He sputtered for a moment and, bless his spazzy heart, nearly toppled out of the chair he sat in, before fixing me with the weirdest look I'd ever been looked-upon with—considering all I'd done in my short life and all those I'd annoyed and offended, that was quite the feat. "Wh—What? Rika, you're twelve."

"Thirteen." I smirked proudly. I mean, at least I was finally a teenager again and not still a whiny little preteen—maybe still a little whiny, though.

"That's beside the point! I'm eighteen—you're not supposed to ask me things like that."

"So is that a yes or a no?" He squinted and opened his mouth to reply—to shoot me down again, obviously—and I interrupted him with a grin. "Come on, I'm not an idiot. It's a friend-date. And probably the only date you'll get all week."

His brown eyes widened as he considered the offer, and he only looked mildly offended by my words. "I dunno, I mean...isn't it still kind of weird?"

"Weird? No way! We're coworkers. Plus, you're way too young for me." I rolled my eyes.

"Too young?"

"That's what I said."

"Right. You're into guys who are, what, mid-twenties?"

"And up." I raised my index finger towards the ceiling emphatically, smiling.

Junichi eyed me steadily for a moment, then sighed. "For some reason, Rika, I'm a little afraid of you. And for you."

"Now you're starting to sound like Shisui. So, is that a yes or no? After our shift ends we can go do something not-so-boring."

"And what would you consider 'not-so-boring?'"

Oh, and wasn't that the question? I crossed my legs and stared up at the ceiling in thought, spinning in the wheeled office chair. With the clan in the state it was in and the police on edge, it was better not to cause too much trouble. For my own well-being, of course. But...well, what they never knew about wouldn't hurt 'em.

I cracked another grin and sent Junichi a sly glance, lowering my voice. "I'm so glad you asked. Ever heard of cow tipping...?"

Not a good idea.

I repeat, not a good idea.

The heifers in Konoha were downright mean and awful targets for mischief—well, actually, it was the bull that was mixed in among the herd that caught us off-guard, but whatever it was, messing with the livestock around the village was a god awful idea and one I'd never attempt again.

I mean, I thought it would be totally amusing and hilarious, but I ended up getting a couple of broken ribs when the bull knocked me sky high to the moon and Junichi came out of it a little more fortunate, with just a fractured wrist, because he was smart enough to stay out of the animal's way.

And he swore never to hang out with me ever again because I wasn't right in the head.

At the very least, he had the decency to drop me off at the hospital for treatment. If I wasn't busy working in the place, I was bedridden there.

I didn't even get my own private room! So much for employee benefits.

My roommate was a little girl, probably around Sasuke's age, with pink hair that sort of resembled Sakura's, but the style was all wrong. I mean, Sakura's bangs didn't hang in front of her face so much, did they? Not only that, but the kid was pretty ill with a cold or the flu or something (I'd received an immunization, being one of the hospital workers...actually, I'd been given quite a few shots and I didn't want to see a needle near me again for a very long time) and wasn't looking too peppy.

I felt sort of bad for her. My inner, carefully-groomed, caretaker wanted me to leap from the bed and see if she needed anything for comfort, but broken ribs hurt. Like, worse than the worst bad case of gas that made moving your torso painful—it was about that feeling times twenty, like a million shards of broken glass pressing in from all angles. Thank all that is good for painkillers. It was the first time I'd ever experienced broken anything and I was comfortable saying I never wanted to feel it again.

Once, her parents came in to visit her—I pretended to be asleep the entire time just to avoid the awkwardness of the situation, even if the curtain was drawn between our beds.

Lucky kid! I didn't get any visitors. Satoshi was busy with the police, Emiko was busy stockpiling a new set of clothes for the clan because the seasons were changing and they knew I was safe where I was so they just left me, and Shisui was occupied with his ninja work. I didn't even bother thinking about Itachi or Sasuke, who'd started attending the Academy recently.

Sure, I could brush it all off and shrug it away, but it did kind of make me upset! It would have been nice to at least get a flower delivery or something. Maybe even a visit from a former admirer. Ha!

On the second day, the little girl had recovered enough to actually wake up and look around, read a few books her parents brought her and eat the food the nice nurses brought in (they were nice to me, too, but gave me dirty looks because they somehow knew I'd done this to myself and left them to take care of all of the busywork).

I (carefully and painstakingly) reached over and pushed the ugly, lime-green partition aside to get a better look at the girl when she started humming a cute tune under her breath—and the sudden swishy, clinking noise startled her into glancing up, large, childlike eyes wide, just barely visible beneath her long pink bangs. Actually, my bangs were pretty much the same length. I really wasn't one to talk.

Her eyes were a bright but gentle green—whoa. She really looked like a mini Haruno Sakura. Only one way to find out.

"Hi." I smiled and waved with the hand I'd just used to move the curtains out of the way. "What're you in for?"

She looked away shyly before eyeing me curiously and then turning to face me, gripping her blankets and tensing her shoulders. Not a social one. "M-me? Um. A really bad cold."

"Looks like you're doing better already though, hmm?"

"Yeah, it's—it's getting better." Her brow furrowed as she continued to let her eyes flick from my face to other areas around the room. What a shy kid.

"Great! I'm Uchiha Rika, by the way. I'm in for broken ribs! Ah—ow." Using anything above my inside-level voice (which I barely even ever used) was definitely a bad and painful idea while I was still mending. I prodded at my wrapped-up torso and felt the tender areas prickle in protest. What a pain. I wonder what would happen if I applied pressure—

Not a good idea. Leave broken bones alone. But on the other hand, I could have used some more painkillers.

The girl watched me with wide-eyes, unsure of just what to think, probably, before a small smile rose to her lips. "Ha-Haruno Sakura. Nice to meet you. Rika-san."

Well I'll be damned, it was Sakura. Couldn't remember much at all about what she was supposed to be like as a child, but it must have been sometime before she garnered up all of that courage and developed her violent, inner personality. Now she was just an adorably shy, chubby-cheeked baby. Six-or seven-year-old baby, that is.

"Nice to meet you, too! Looks like we'll be cellmates for a little while longer, so if you need anything or just wanna talk, feel free to. Oh, and just 'Rika' is fine."

Sakura took up the offer instantly. "Um—you said Uchiha? Do you..." She fidgeted with the hem of the white hospital blanket again. "Do you, maybe, know a... Sasuke-kun?"

Of course.

Little Sasuke was already popular with the girls even though he wasn't cute at all at this age.

I decided to play dumb and tease her a little. "Hmm... Sasuke-kun, was it? Sasuke-kun... Sasuke...?" I tapped my lip with my index finger and hummed, taking some sort of sadistic enjoyment in the way she squirmed nervously, looking as if she regretted asking it at all. Well, maybe that was a bit cruel. "Oh! Sasuke! I do know a Sasuke, who happens to be my, uh," he was related to me somehow, through Satoshi, who was Fugaku's...first cousin once removed? Second cousin once removed? It was a huge tangled up mess and I was surprised anyone knew how they were related in that huge clan. Worse than the Pureblood family tree in Harry Potter, it was.

"Cousin," I finished lamely, because it was some kind of truth. "And he's about your age, too! But..." a grin spread across my face. "I'm not so sure he's the one you're talking about."

"H-huh? But why?"

"Well, the Sasuke I know is a little tomato-loving brat with a bad haircut who likes to chase some people around with bugs they hate and pretty much only has eyes for his older brother—definitely not the type to catch others' eyes and have them asking about him. So, maybe there's more than one Uchiha Sasuke around. What do you think?"

"I—um. Wh-what?" Her eyebrows drew together and there was a shiny moisture to her eyes that wasn't there before, but I shrugged and continued on.

"Like, say, maybe he has an evil twin who just so happens to be the more suave and appealing of the two and—"

"Rika."

"—the one everyone likes better, because I'll never, for the life of me, understand why—"

"Rika."

"—anyone would willingly choose to—ow!"

A semi-painful weight whopped me on the top of the head, pulling me out of my ranting mode, and I whirled around—bad idea bad idea!—to come face-to-face with a frowning Emiko, Mom Face present full-force and, boy, if I haven't seen that expression in a few years. Didn't even know when she'd managed to sneak in.

Once I gathered my bearings long enough to quite writhing in pain and grumbled out an apology, I looked back to see how Sakura was responding to my careless words. Ah. Her lips were trembling. Her eyes were shiny with overflowing, unshed tears.

Then, the damn holding it all back burst open and fat, heavy crocodile tears dripped from her eyes along with snot from her tiny nose.

"Rika, you apologize right now! And don't speak of the Clan Head's son like that!"

Of course, I was the one to get in trouble. And I made Haruno Sakura cry.

A day after that, Emiko brought me home from the hospital to continue my recovery—I wasn't sure if it was because of the state of the clan and wanting to keep me nearby or just because she was my mom and wanted me back under her own roof. Or because I made young children cry if I was around them for too long.

Probably the latter.

Whatever her reasons were, it was just as boring at home as it was at the hospital—and I'd be here for quite a few weeks. Being in a state of healing, I was unable to run around or even do chores, but Mother Dearest was kind enough to run up a tab of what tasks I owed and would complete once I was healthy again. I'm pretty sure she threw in about a dozen extra things as punishment, too.

Two weeks went by just like that and it was boring as hell.

"Oh, Rika. You just can't help that reckless nature of yours, can you?" Emiko was quick to point out my flaws, as always, even when she was bringing me dinner and doing her best to keep me comfortable and at ease while healing. I was getting mixed signals, here. She set the food tray down on my bedside table before sitting on the edge of my mattress and watching me carefully, a little sadly, and then leaning over to smooth my hair—mainly, my ridiculously long bangs—away from my face. "I really hoped working at the hospital would help you get over your rebellious phase, but it seems like you just like it too much to part."

Whoa. Ominous words. I grinned, uneasily, and shifted slightly against the pillows behind my back to reach for the fruit juice she'd set down just out of my reach. "Uh, nope. It's not a phase. That's just one-hundred-percent me. It's my personality, so why would I wanna change it?" I was just surprised she was still harping on about that. "Just accept me already!"

She pushed the cup towards my grabby fingers and sighed. "I was afraid you'd say that. But, being a part of this clan, there are certain...responsibilities you'll have to conform to as you get older."

"Oh no, you're not bringing up the marriage thing again, are you?"

"Well—"

"Mommmm! I can't believe this! Who is it now? That short, squat guy named Akira or whatever who lives down by the bakery?" I stuck out my tongue, then grimaced as it dawned on me that, maybe, she'd looked into the whole age pool and picked someone way older. "Don't tell me it's Inabi!" Or younger. "Itachi!? Sasuke?!"

"Well," she tried again, "since Kou's passed away and—"

Oh, god no.

"It's Shisui?! Mom, I thought you said you were kidding about that! He's my cousin—we're way too closely related for marriage! He's your nephew!" If I'd been drinking the juice then, I would have spit it out everywhere. And, thankfully my ribs were starting to feel better or else the strain, yelling and overall bitch slap of it all would have done me more harm than good. It still hurt a little.

Both my ribs and her absolutely wonderful news. Even if cousin marriages were technically a thing, especially among clans, it didn't make it any less weird.

Emiko held up her index finger to make a point. "Kou and I were only half-siblings, to be perfectly accurate. Kagami was our father but we had different mothers. It isn't something we liked to disclose."

"Oh, doesn't that just make this all better!"

She closed her eyes and gave a quiet, almost imperceptible sigh in reaction to my attitude—she wanted to yell, I could tell, or to tell me to calm down and listen, but held herself back in order to explain her reasons. "When we considered an arranged marriage for you the first time, there was...some talk about setting up you and Shisui since you two get along so well. Kou was for it. I was for it. Only Satoshi had some misgivings about it initially, so we decided to drop the idea. But then Kou passed away, and with Shisui alone... we started to think maybe it would be best to bring him into our family. Officially."

"Just admit you always wanted Shisui as your kid and this is the perfect opportunity to do it." I was bitter. I couldn't help it—I always knew dad wanted a kid like Shisui and if this wasn't just a golden chance.

"That isn't what this is about, Rika." Emiko sighed and pressed her hands against her face before sighing, shoulders drooping. "It's for you, too. And of course, it won't happen until you're sixteen—"

"Have you even asked Shisui how he feels about this?"

"Rika you have got to stop interrupting me. Where are your manners?"

"I dunno, where's your common decency?"

"Rika..." Oh, the warning tone. I was starting to grate on her nerves—just as much as she was getting on mine.

She wasn't going to stop me.

"Don't tell me this is some sort of political move pushing for more clan unity." I glanced at her sharply, noting the surprise on her face, and scowled. "I'm not an idiot, Mom. I have ears and eyes that work perfectly fine and people talk."

At that, she looked a bit guilty. But then the irritation was set back into place and she straightened her back, holding her shoulders high. "This doesn't concern that. And I have discussed the matter with Shisui."

I scoffed. "What? Really? Tell me he refused, too, because this is just—"

"He agreed to it."

Oh shit. "B-but, come on, he's only fourteen, what does he know about these things? He didn't—think it through. That's all!"

"He's as good as an adult, with his current ranking. And you know he's always been mature for his age, Rika. Don't belittle his decisions."

"But...marriage? Marriage with Shisui?"

"That's the idea. We can discuss this more—with Shisui—once you're back on your feet."

I nodded dumbly as Emiko smoothed my hair back once more and left the room without another word.

If I knew boredom would bring something like this back around, I never would have complained.

Chapter Text

Marriage.

Marriage.

But not just any kind of marriage, no—it was a premeditated marriage with Shisui. Shisui!

The words kept repeating in my head, echoing, swirling around like some messed-up merry-go-round. Big, bold, blobby-shaped words in bright, neon colors.

Remember when I said I'd marry him in a heartbeat a while back if he wasn't that closely related to me? Yeah, well, it was a huge lie.

The whole idea was still gross.

Not to mention risky! I mean, there was never the issue of Shisui being married before, not in canon—or at least, it was never mentioned and likely not an occurrence because he was a busy shinobi who devoted his life and efforts to the village and clan—and... if I went through with this because of Emiko and Satoshi's meddling, what if everything just got totally wrecked?

I still wanted my possible ticket back home! If the massacre somehow got pushed back and derailed, there was no telling how much longer I'd have to wait to get off of this crazy train.

On the other hand, if this stupid marriage thing didn't have any weight on the timeline, it would never go through anyway since Shisui would die soon.

Yeah...he would die. Sacrifice himself at the Naka river for the greater good of the village, which Itachi would then do his best to carry on and...

I didn't want to think about that any more than I had to. It was easier to just pretend to be dumb and blind to what was to come instead of worrying and agonizing over the pain and loss that was destined to occur and had nothing to do with me.

So, for both of those reasons (the marriage and impending doom of the Uchihas), I did my best to avoid my family. Once my ribs were healed and I could move without aching, I stayed away from the district for as long as possible in daylight up until the clan closed the neighborhood's gates. If they looked for me, they never found me, either, because I knew about all of the little side-streets and detours that only mischievous kids or talented ninjas could navigate without losing their breath.

Because I lingered in the shadier, prankster-prone side of Konoha, it was only a matter of time before I ran into a familiar firecracker of a blond brat—Uzumaki Naruto himself.

It was a total accident, too, but somehow I got swept up into the mess anyway.

For Konoha, today was just like any other day—run-of-the-mill and boring, a little chilly with winter rolling in, but otherwise uneventful.

Well, aside from the four faces of the Hokage Monument which were all sporting vicious, bright-red nosebleeds, thanks to the resident troublemaker that could only be Konoha's Number One Most Unpredictable Ninja—pre-Ninja, that is.

Judging by the way the villagers reacted, muttering amongst themselves and wondering who defaced the monument so crudely, it was clearly his first attempt at an attention-catching masterpiece on such a large scale, and would have gone unattributed if not for the trademark spiral left on the Third's cheek.

I had to admit, I was pretty impressed. I mean, how many people could think to give nosebleeds to those four giant faces, much less a little kid?

The only problem with the whole incident was that I was somehow painted as one of the suspects because of my stupid track record.

"I swear it wasn't me!" I shouted over my shoulder, shoving past a group of shoppers as I darted through the main street, doing my best to create more distance between the Uchiha police tailing me so I could disappear into one of the back roads without being seen. "I know I do a lot of crap around here but this totally wasn't me!"

If they happened to catch me, I could deal with the yelling and the lectures and the possible smack on the back of the head courtesy Emiko. I could. But then they would go and force me to clean up the whole mess by dangling down from a few ropes as a makeshift harness and let me just say that, while spiders were definitely my biggest fear, heights came in at close second. I mean, with my luck, I'd be hanging there cleaning up the paint and then a spider would skitter across the stones right up to my face and I'd panic, lose my grip and go tumbling from the ropes to make another huge red mess on the ground below, which someone else would have to come clean up—and it would just turn into a giant inconvenience. It would be better if they caught that little fox brat and actually raised him with the proper love and care he needed so he didn't act out so blatantly.

But they wouldn't. And they wouldn't catch me, either, because Fugaku wasn't with them and he was the only one capable of ever really catching me and making me pay, to his credit.

The moment I threw myself around a building at the corner of the intersecting streets, I snuck into one of the alleyways on the other side of it that looped back around to a convenient, hidden side-street—but the moment I dove towards the area, I crashed right into someone else who was already hiding away there.

"Ow! Who do ya think—who the heck're you?"

Surprise, surprise. It was a little Naruto, splattered nearly head-to-toe with flecks of red paint—his hands were covered in it, too. I'd literally caught him red-handed. He sat there in the dirt where I'd knocked him over and squinted up at me with a ridiculous half-pout, half-sneer while rubbing his head, which he'd butted me right in the torso with when we collided (thank god my ribs were fully repaired but it still hurt).

He still had those ridiculous, weird-looking goggles. And he was adorable, in a bratty sort of way.

Any other time I might have wanted to pinch his cheeks or something because he was Naruto, a pint-sized, mini main character himself, but since this whole mess was his fault, I wasn't feeling too kindly towards him. So, I scoffed and set my hands on my hips in what I was certain was as very Emiko-esque manner.

"I'm your scapegoat, apparently. Nice job, by the way, that paint is real eye-catching!"

His mean scowl became a bright, sunny grin as he jumped to his feet and waved his arms around. "I know! Right? People'll be talkin' about it for weeks, 'ttebayo!"

Kid couldn't register sarcasm. "Yeah, if they even know who did it."

"Huh? Ain't it obvious? It was me, nee-chan! Uzumaki Naruto!" he said with gusto, pointing back at himself with his thumb.

"Well, I know that, 'cause you're as red as a tomato with all that paint on you—and just how did you not get caught yet?"

"'Cuz I'm just that good. Gotta be, if I wanna be the Hokage!"

"Such noble intentions. But did you ever stop to think maybe someone else would be blamed for it? What happens then, when your reputation is taken away?" I sighed, slapping a hand to my face.

"I never thought about it like that... Should I write my name real big on it, too, next time? Whaddya think of that, nee-chan?"

I was not acting as a criminal-mischief consultant for Naruto.

"I, uh, just—"

"Hey! There she is! Rika, don't you move!"

Ah. They'd caught on to my escape route pretty fast. At the entrance to the narrow alleyway were three Uchiha police, heading straight for us.

So I did the first thing that came to mind, which turned out to be pretty stupid.

I ran.

But I also grabbed onto Naruto's arm and pulled him along after me on reflex.

"No way!" He shouted, grinning wide. "Are you like me, too? What'd you do?"

"Didn't I tell you?! They think I'm the one who gave the Hokage Monument nosebleeds!" I dodged another group of pedestrians on the main street, cutting through on our way to another alleyway that led to an empty lot that was more-or-less hidden and out of the way. I was totally ditching this kid first chance I got.

"Are you kiddin' me, 'ttebayo? That was me! Me! You—you plagiarizer!"

I was totally ditching this kid first chance I got.

When I didn't answer, he jerked his arm out of my grasp. "H-hey, wait—" Sure, I wanted to get rid of him, but I couldn't just leave him there, either. He could get lost, or worse, caught. I could still hear the police yelling after us, even if they weren't right in our sights at the moment.

"No way! I'm gonna go back and draw my name across 'em all so people know for sure who did it! Dattebayo!" And then, he did the worst thing he could do. He stopped. Right in the middle of the alleyway.

"Come on, that's a terrible idea! Everyone's eyes are focused on that thing—if you go back, you'll be caught for sure. They'll make you clean the whole thing up. Use your head a little!"

"I am. I'm gonna do it, stupid nee-chan!"

"Hey, that's not—" a hand smacked over my face and dragged me backwards into another side-street before I could yell at the little brat for his attitude. Seriously, Naruto was so much more tolerable when he was older! About ten times more adorable then, too. If I had any scissors on me, I would've given him a proper haircut, because those spikes were out of control—

Hold it. Just who'd grabbed me? I latched onto the person's arm with both of my hands and bit down on their fingers hard, not appreciating the gesture of being cut off mid-sentence and muzzled one single bit. I mean, I would have yelled, really loudly, so it was a good idea on their part. Just not so convenient or pleasant for me.

"Ouch—Rika! It's just me."

"Shisui?"

He let go and shook out his bitten hand gingerly, brow furrowed slightly, but he was smiling a bit, too, amused. "Sorry about that, but I knew you'd scream and catch their attention if I didn't."

I reached into my pocket and handed him a bandaid automatically—I kept a few of them on me at all times thanks to a habit I'd picked up at the hospital.

"Thanks."

"No problem." A grin forced its way onto my face as I spoke, and then I turned on my heel to run away again—because it was Shisui and I didn't think I could look him in the eye at the moment—only, a hand on my shoulder changed my mind and kept me in place. Well, so much for escaping. I sighed and glanced back at him with a frown. "How long were you following us? I thought you were still away on a mission."

"I got back a little while ago." He shrugged it off easily. "And long enough to know you weren't the one responsible for the graffiti. Thankfully. I'm not sure what the clan head would do if you were. And as for Aunt Emiko..." he trailed off. Cleared his throat a little awkwardly. "Rika, have you been avoiding everyone?"

Oh. She'd probably put him up to this—set him on my trail to go and talk some sense into me and bring me back, convince me to go along with the arranged marriage idea. But there was no way he would force me into something like that if I didn't want to. I knew that. I didn't know if Emiko and Satoshi knew that, though.

"Ha, no! Haha, I mean, why would I do that?" I raised my shoulders in such an exaggerated shrug that he was forced to pull his hand back.

"...Can you look me in the eye and say that?"

"Nope." I really wanted to run. But if I did, he'd catch up to me before I knew it anyway. He wasn't called Shunshin no Shisui for nothing.

"Rika," Shisui sighed, and with that tone, there was no doubt he had his hands on his hips and brought up his Mom Face. Egh, hadn't seen that in a while. "Aunt Emiko told me she told you... about the—um—the marriage prospect."

Even he had trouble saying it without hesitating. "Dunno what you're talking about."

"I think we need to talk about it."

"Maybe I don't want to."

"Rika—"

"Don't 'Rika' me like you're older and know better, Shisui."

"But I am older."

"Just by a year! A whole year, because your stupid birthday has to be on the same day as mine!"

"My birthday isn't stupid—no, wait. I'm not getting into an argument with you about this. Stop trying to get the topic off track. Are you just going to pretend this isn't happening? Like the last time I tried to talk to you about it and you pretended to be asleep?"

"I was sleeping."

"Well, you're not now." He sighed and shuffled forwards, stopping at my side and catching me in a half-hearted headlock. I didn't bother resisting even though he was a little sweaty and his green flak jacket sort of smelled like trees and musty, earthy dirt and boy—because he clearly hadn't gotten the chance to bathe and clean up from his mission yet. "If you won't talk about it, will you listen to what I have to say, then? I feel like you almost hate me here, and that's the last thing I want, Rika."

I sighed and elbowed him in the side weakly, noting that those shinobi vests were really padded. "I don't hate you, Shisui. I never could and you know that." He grinned—I caught the motion out of the corner of my eye and couldn't help but do the same. "But... Fine. Let's go to the park and you can say whatever you want, I guess. I'll listen."

Conversations like this just couldn't happen without some sort of pastry or sweets or something to soften the seriousness, so I stopped by a bakery on the way to the park and bought a bag full of chestnut manjū. To share, of course.

So there we sat, side-by-side, shoulders nearly touching, on one of the benches on the outskirts of one of the local parks, eating stupid pastries. It could have been a normal, peaceful moment of bonding if not for the current subject matter that was on both of our minds.

"She said you agreed." Damn. I didn't want to be the first to speak, but I blurted it out before I could stop myself. "Umm—Emiko said you agreed to the arrangement. The, uh, thing. The marriage. Thing." And the words just kept coming. I stuffed the rest of the pastry into my mouth to shut myself up.

"I did." Damn him, he was able to reply so easily.

I swallowed harshly. "Why?" Damn me. He was the one who was supposed to talk while I just sat there and listened. So much for that. He probably knew I'd go and have my say, too, because I was a loudmouth who didn't know how to shut up sometimes. The jerk planned this. "Marriage is pretty serious business, you know? Damn near permanent 'til death, by the clan laws! There's no divorce option, you know—it's either you do get married or you don't get married. No take backs!" I stuck my hand into the brown paper bag with the sweets and pulled another one out before taking a huge bite, because if I didn't, I'd keep on and on.

"You're talking like I didn't think about this beforehand and just gave an answer on the fly." He snatched the bag away from me and took the remaining manjū for himself and the action came off as just mildly irritated. With my luck, this would end up as another argument. "I did think about it, Rika."

"Then you're fully aware if we're engaged to get married we're going to be pretty much exclusive?" Oh, god. The pastry wasn't helping me keep quiet. "As in, no more dating. No girlfriends or boyfriends."

"I don't have one anyway—wait, do you?"

"Well, no, but..."

"Then that's the least of our worries." He stared down at the empty paper bag in his lap and sighed before crumpling it up and tossing it towards the nearby trash bin—landing it in one throw, naturally. "I did think about it, okay? I figured that, as long as it's you, Rika, it wouldn't be a bad thing. It wouldn't even feel like an obligation. It would just be like almost any other day—I mean, we've been around each other practically forever."

I crossed my arms. "Shisui, I don't know what your definition of 'marriage' is like, but it's definitely not that. The clan pushes for the passing on of one's genes, especially since we both have Grandpa Kagami's," I gave a little shudder at the prospect of how screwed up that was, "so we would be obligated to have kids, which means we would have to have se—"

"Okay, maybe I didn't think it through that much!" Shisui held up his hands (sweaty) in surrender as he stopped me mid-sentence, speaking a bit louder than necessary to cover up that last word and then quickly looking away, tugging at his high collar. I was pretty sure his face turned tomato-red. Maybe he was a little prudish about things like sex and all that. I guess I was the same way, when I was that age.

"I'm just tryin' to cover all the bases, here. If it came to that, I don't think—no, I know—I wouldn't be able to. With you." Not only because we'd both be dead before I was sixteen and ready to be married off, but because I just couldn't shake the thought that he was more like a sibling, even if we weren't as closely related as I first thought and it was still pretty damn incestuous. That, and the whole age factor definitely played into it. "I mean, I think of you as a brother. And don't you see me as a younger sister? You said it before."

He grinned uneasily and shifted in his seat a little. "Actually, that's not really how I said it, Rika."

"I—" Oh. He was right. I pursed my lips and aimed a suspicious glare at him. "Don't tell me you like me, Shisui." That was just what this moment needed.

"Uh, well, you see..." He rubbed the back of his head, fidgeting with the knot at the back of his forehead protector, failing to meet my eyes.

My glare shifted into a curious frown. "You...like like me?"

"Yeah. I do."

"Oh." A heavy silence fell over us. Poor guy. I'd already put him in his place before he even had a chance to confess properly. "Since when?"

Shisui smiled—and it was very clearly a little hurt, because I'd, unwittingly, all but rejected him without saying the actual words—and reached out to tap the dragonfly hairpin. "Since I gave you that." His fingers lingered for a moment before he pulled his hand away and set his elbows on his knees, leaning forward and looking mildly defeated—resigned. "But I always knew how you felt. It's not like I'm surprised or anything. I'm just happy with you being here in my life. And when your parents brought up the marriage idea again, I thought, maybe, something could change. But I guess I didn't really take your feelings into consideration. Sorry, Rika."

He'd given me the hairpin three years ago.

Three years.

Three years?! Hell,I hadn't even noticed a shift in his behavior or any kind of tell—or did I just pretend not to see it? Maybe it was just hard to notice because we hadn't spent a great amount of time together over that short stretch of time since he had his ninja career—or maybe I was just an oblivious idiot. I was too busy with myself, too busy waiting for the future. I was the one who never stopped to consider other people's feelings, and somewhere along the way I'd picked up his.

Still didn't know what he saw in me since I was pretty obnoxious.

I reached up to adjust the dragonfly hairpin. It was one of the nicest gifts I'd ever been given, in regards to general thoughtfulness and intent. His intentions were always innocent and selfless, more often than not. It wasn't a token of his feelings, because he'd been genuine in giving it to me as an apology, and it wasn't meant to bind me to him, or anything—he'd made that clear. He was very understanding, even if it hurt him.

I didn't...want to hurt him. I couldn't.

"You know—" He glanced up when I spoke. "—I never said I was against the idea. Just that, y'know, it would be better if we didn't do certain things. Maybe it would be better to go with your definition of marriage after all."

His eyebrows drew together in slight confusion, with a bit of guilt mixed in. "Rika, you don't have to say that. I get it. Please don't feel like I'm trying to force you into it or anything with what I said."

"Isn't like that." I shook my head and leaned my elbows on my knees, too, before dropping my chin into my hands. How was I supposed to say this without sounding like a wishy-washy moron? "I just wanted to hear your feelings on the matter. To make sure Mom and Dad didn't push you into it. You're serious; I know. I get that."

It was what Emiko and Satoshi wanted. It was what Shisui wanted. And, probably, it was the best option for the clan. I wasn't completely sure it was free of political motives, necessitating unity and loyalty, but there wasn't...any harm in going along with it. Making everyone happy.

The marriage would never come to pass, anyway. In two years—a little less—everything would play out like it was supposed to and he would sacrifice himself for the sake of the village. Hell, I could put up an act until then! It was the least I could do, for everything they'd all done for me. All I had to do was pretend for a little longer. I wasn't who they thought I was and, really, I'd been acting all along. Trying to make the best of a bad situation.

No one would come out of it alive in the end, anyway. Only Itachi (for a while, at least) and Sasuke.

I forced a grin and knocked my shoulder against Shisui's. "As long as it's you, Shisui, I don't think marriage would be a bad thing. You aren't selfish for wanting that. So, if you're still up for it, I agree, too."

His smile—his happiness—made the terrible lie worth it.

"But—can I ask one thing, Shisui?" Even if I was gonna play this game, there was one thing that I just couldn't overlook.

"Sure, what?"

"Just what do you like so much about me?" It was an easy enough question to ask, but maybe not so much to answer. Maybe I was being nosy, but I couldn't understand it. Sure, I was a heartbreaker at work, but I was also Cootie Rika. Generally obnoxious and—this guy knew the worst of me. He didn't have his head on straight if he fell for me, of all people.

Shisui pressed his shoulder back against mine to keep from being knocked over and glanced at me from the side, smiling slightly. Fondly. And, for the first time, I finally saw it in his eyes—that tender, indescribable softness that tended to show up whenever someone was in love with someone else and thought they were the most amazing thing in the world. I'd seen it before, so I knew. But, seeing Shisui look at me that way... it caught me off guard. Like, maybe it had always been there and I'd just never stopped to notice and I wondered how that made him feel, me being so ignorant and just—oblivious.

Then, his hand dropped onto my head and he ruffled my hair a little roughly. "Everything." He said it without hesitation. With complete honesty. With that soft smile that almost made me take it all back and take my lying self as far away from him as possible.

Only almost, though. It was too late to stop it now, so I did what I always did and teased him a little...if only to make myself feel better.

"Everything? Even my mean-natured bullying and tendency to hit you?"

"Especially that. You're pretty cute when you act tough, Rika."

It was my turn to smile. Then I pushed him off of the bench to get a head start on running away. "Last one home has to tell the news to Emiko!"

Naturally, it was me.

Chapter Text

Setting up an arranged marriage wasn't difficult at all—in fact, it was a little scary how simple it was. The two families exchanged signed contracts, which were dictated by clan laws and also had the Okay from the current clan head, and the deal would hold up until the wedding date decided by the families of both parties involved—which was both of my parents and Shisui—who decided that that day would be on my sixteenth birthday and Shisui's seventeenth birthday, respectively. Pretty convenient choice for an anniversary, if I do say so myself.

Only, that day would never actually come.

It was a quiet affair; an official occurrence at the Nakano shrine, sanctioned by Fugaku himself with no others in attendance except for the ones involved, and, thankfully, it wasn't a topic of gossip that spread like wildfire around the entire neighborhood. No one else knew. Well, Itachi probably did, but that was a given since he was Itachi.

The whole thing was...weird. Unreal. I'd always dreamed of getting married someday, back in my first lifetime—mainly just for the pretty, grand dress, even though that was a horrible reason—but the fact that I was engaged and due for marriage was almost…unbelievable.

But, hell, it was another strikeout on my bucket list.

Said list was getting shorter and shorter by the day, in fact. I'd done about all I wanted to in Konoha, stirring up all kinds of trouble and causing problems for pretty much everyone, and by now, the whole clan knew my name. I knew I wouldn't be remembered—maybe by Itachi, if anyone, if he cared to, but at least I'd done my best to leave my mark.

Now, all that was left to do was to wait out the final days of my life, because I didn't have a single regret.

The Fated Day was a little more than a year away.

And, because of it, Shisui's death was fast approaching.

"I can't believe it. You're getting married in two years?" Junichi repeated exactly what I'd told him, eyes wide with curiosity and a bit of doubt as he spun his office chair around to face me—and nearly toppled right out of it in his haste.

It was another boring day and we were looking after the nurse's station on the second floor together, like we usually did. He forgave me for the whole cow-tipping incident after a while, mainly because we saw each other at work pretty much constantly every day and it was too hard for him to avoid me and stay upset over something like that. Still refused to ever hang out with me again outside of work, though.

"To who?"

"Shisui." I thought it would be difficult to talk about to an outsider, or just difficult period, but the name rolled off my tongue with surprising ease. It was fact, more than anything. Cold, hard fact without feeling.

"Your cousin? Weren't you the one who told me it wasn't like that between you two? I mean, I saw the way he looked at you, but you always have that cold shell up so I thought you rejected him too, and—"

"We're a little further related than cousins, actually. Our parents were only half siblings." I shrugged. "And hey, whaddya mean 'cold shell?' Am I an egg?"

"Ah, no! Nothing, nothing." He held up his hands to fend off potential retaliation for the comment, throwing in an exaggerated wince for effect. When I didn't make a move, he relaxed and folded his hands behind his head, staring out across the room in thought. "I mean, at least you have a legit excuse to turn down any of your admirers now. If you even have any more."

I grinned and held up my index finger proudly. "Just got one earlier today, actually. But it's not really...well, it's kinda weird to go around and say 'sorry, I can't date you, I'm gettin' married.'"

"You're right. Using the boyfriend excuse sounds better."

"Boyfriend?"

"Well, he is your boyfriend, isn't he? That's usually how marriage works; you date for a while and, if you really like each other, then you get hitched, right?" Junichi mused.

I'd never thought of this situation that way, but the kid had a point. "It's...not really like that. Clan politics, and all. It's sort of a marriage of convenience between our families more than anything."

"You mean—it's an arranged marriage, Rika?"

"Yep!"

Speaking of the clan, things were downright awful on that frontier. Chatterings of the planned coup could be heard on the streets in plain day in the neighborhood, even if they were only hushed whispers. Everyone looked at non-clan members with unfriendly eyes and—well, technically, I probably shouldn't have been so talkative with civilians like Junichi, either, but most of the time the ones that didn't associate with a clan were ignorant of village and clan politics. The ninja world was on a whole other level and they were perfectly content staying out of it.

"Clan policies sound kind of scary and a little outdated. Glad I don't belong to one." He paused, then leaned forward a little, close enough to where I could hear him speak in a undertone. "Do you love him?"

"I do." His eyes widened—and not because he'd just gotten ahold of a juicy piece of gossip to add to his collection, but because he was genuinely shocked by the reply. It didn't matter if he misunderstood at this point, but I had to clarify it, if anything, for myself. "Like family. I don't mind the arrangement at all."

"Well, congratulations."

Either way, the answer satisfied him enough that he lost interest in badgering me about it.

"Oh, I can't believe you're going to get married, Rika!" Emiko, for the millionth time in the past few months, gushed about my engagement as we sat down at lunch together in the dining room. Even with the clan in turmoil, she still found a little joy within her to celebrate her only daughter's future wedding-to-be-but-not-really. "And to Shisui. I always knew you two would end up together somehow. He's the perfect son-in-law, you know. The perfect Uchiha. I don't think you could ever find someone better."

"I don't think so, either." It was the honest truth. He was a good guy—really good. Great, even. But I knew I could find someone else more suited to my personality. Shisui was leagues too good for me—if things were different, I hoped he would find someone different, too. Someone who could properly return his feelings and not just give him some sham that would only keep him in an illusionary happiness until his death. A genjutsu love.

"Satoshi's very proud of it all, too, even if he doesn't talk about it. You know how work has him lately..." her voice trailed off a bit sadly, and she got that uncharacteristic, far-off look of melancholy in her eyes that tended to show up lately with all the clan was going through.

"Yeah. The clan, it's—" I stopped myself, knowing I was heading into taboo territory, but really, what did it matter? "Mom, what do you think about what's going on right now?"

She was quick to shut me down. "We don't talk about that, Rika. We do as we're asked and support our clan in every way possible. It's our priority, first and foremost."

"Right. I know, I know. Forget I said anything." The Uchiha clan and its loyal members were an immovable wall. They'd all go down together.

She set her chopsticks down on their holder and folded her hands together across her lap, sitting up straight and tall, and cleared her throat in a way that set me on edge because that was part of her mom attitude and something big was coming up—she was gonna drop another bomb on me, I just knew it.

"Speaking of that, I think it's time you left the hospital. Your father and I would prefer it if you were around the compound more."

Oh. That wasn't so bad.

A smile slowly spread across her lips and, god forbid it, she looked excited. She hadn't shown that expression since we went bra shopping together. "That, and there are so many things I need to teach you to get you ready for married life."

"Please don't say that includes the sex talk." I didn't have any problems with quitting my job at the hospital, but spending all of my time around Mother-In-Law-And-Expectant-Grandmother-To-Be-Mode Emiko (I told him, I told Shisui they'd want kids) was just asking for too much.

"Oh, it especially involves that!"

One thing I'd learned in my second life, if anything, was that Emiko was impossible to escape when she'd set her mind to something.

And she really wanted grandbabies.

Even if I was no longer employed at the hospital and mostly remained within the district's walls, there were still ways to avoid the clan. The forest that contained a few of the local training grounds was technically on Uchiha property, after all, and as long as I remained on certain paths there wasn't the risk of walking into a barrage of shuriken or kunai or maybe even right into a katon jutsu (being barbecued to death wouldn't be such a bad way to go at this point, actually).

It was peaceful. It was a forest—just a forest—where time stood still and everything was bland and normal. If I didn't think about where I was, I would forget this was Konohagakure and I could pretend it was just another gathering of woods from back home, void of danger or the impending clan massacre. I could pretend that, on the other end of the trail, there would be a familiar cityscape I'd once known, waiting to greet me and welcome me back.

Where fiction could stay fiction. But—now that I'd seen this world as something real and very much alive, could I ever think of it as fiction again? I touched the rough bark of a nearby tree. It was real. Real, real, real. If I happened to be reborn back into my original world, or, worst case scenario, into another unknown and once-thought-to-be-fictional place, it would still be real to me.

Maybe I wasted my second chance here after all. But, even if I'd wanted to change anything, it was far too late, now. Itachi was in ANBU, the military police were probably already suspicious of him and asking Shisui to keep an eye on him and everyone was paranoid of everyone else while they worked towards their own agendas that would eventually crash and burn and end with the murder of an entire clan.

It wasn't my place to wreck the natural order. It never was. Never would be; I was just a bystander who was supposed to be oblivious to it all.

And, damn it all, I just wanted to go back home. Fourteen years in this place was enough already—if I hadn't been so stupid and just stopped being so stressed and stayed alive back then, I would have been in my mid-thirties. Thirties! I could have had a stable career, a home, a life, contributing to the world and maybe even getting married and having kids, adopting kids...something. But here I was, a teenager again—a useless, helpless teenager who'd never taken anything seriously and just focused on having fun and doing whatever I wanted because this place wasn't mine.

Why couldn't I have just been reborn without the stupid memories of my past life? What kind of deity just allowed a reincarnated soul to hang onto things like that? Stupid; it was stupid. I wanted to get back at them however I could, but in the end, I'd only wasted my own time blowing off everything. Pretending nothing else mattered and that the massacre was my goal; my aim. I was going to die. I was going to die—again.

It would be painful. But it would be quick. And I totally deserved it. I wasn't getting cold feet about it or anything, but—hell, who wanted to die? To be killed? Murdered? I didn't want to hold on to those memories again.

Who was I kidding—I was totally getting cold feet.

Then, I could run. I could run far, far away from the clan, from Konoha, from the Land of Fire, and keep in living for just a little while longer. Abandon it all. I didn't need anything. I could just keep following this path to the outer walls and leave. Keep walking, walking, find a new home. I would die sooner or later either way, so my way home was always open until then.

I was freaking the fuck out. And then I started to cry like an idiot, warm tears streaming down my face like my stupid, traitor eyes were faucets or something—and not stopping.

Shisui would die.

Satoshi and Emiko would die.

Everyone would die.

It would be a bloodbath; a massacre and how the hell could I just flippantly think of something like that as my gateway out of this world? Innocent people would be killed! Women, children, the elderly—every single one of them. The housewives I'd helped. The elderly I'd done shopping for.

They. Would. All. Die.

The stress was too much, aching in my head like a hammer to the skull—like the time I smacked my head against the corner of my desk—and something burned in my eyes, a weird, unsettling pain that—

"Rika?"

The pain stopped.

I glanced up sharply, not even remembering when I'd hung my head or when I'd started to lean against a tree just to keep on my feet, or when my knees started shaking and the snot started dripping down my nose—ew. I quickly drew my sleeve across my face and sniffled dumbly before glancing up at the person who'd spoken, knowing I looked like a miserable moronic crybaby.

It was Itachi. Dressed up in his ANBU get-up minus the mask, as if he'd been training in the forest or maybe meeting with Shisui to discuss clan things before something—my crying, probably—caught his attention and drew him over. He looked a bit uncomfortable at the idea of dealing with a crying girl, but since he was already here, he remained, and stepped a little closer out of concern but still kept his distance and didn't speak again, not quite sure what to say.

Really, I'd never noticed it, but the kid was a little socially awkward. Perfect Itachi had a flaw! Wonder what Sasuke would say if I told him about this little discovery.

A smile tugged at my lips thanks to that thought. I swiped my sleeve across my eyes, wiping the tears away. "H-hey, Itachi! Fancy meeting you here, I, uh..." I didn't know how to make the situation any less awkward than it already was. I mean, I didn't know how to make crying situations better, either, except with Sasuke. Anytime he cried, all I had to do was mention Itachi and the tears stopped instantly. No one else really cried—except the time I made Sakura cry. But I wasn't even a crier most of the time. Only the once, when Kou knocked out one of my baby teeth and Satoshi had to rush me to the dentist to make sure everything was alright—I cried because of the dentist. I hated them and their grabby, prodding fingers.

"Rika? Did you say Rika?" As if things couldn't get any worse, Shisui showed up, jumping down from one of the trees and right to Itachi's side. As I thought, they were most likely having one of their secret discussions about the clan's actions and I probably ended up stumbling a little too close to the site for comfort. He took one look at my crying face and grimaced slightly, but there was a bit of worry in his expression, too. "Hey—you're pretty far out past the neighborhood. Don't tell me you got lost?"

"I—" I took a look at my surroundings and... shit. I didn't know where I even was. Maybe I really had been trying to walk as far as possible and escape the village. "Yeah. I got a little lost. Just a little. Like, barely. I can totally find the right way back by myself."

The two exchanged glances—and for a second, I feared they might've suspected me of spying or something; didn't trust me—before Shisui grinned and Itachi smiled slightly—just a bit. Barely noticeable.

Nah. They knew I was just Rika being Rika. No one to be suspicious of. Probably, they'd thought I was someone else before Itachi caught me crying.

Shisui clapped him on the shoulder. "You can go back first, Itachi. I'll walk with Rika."

Itachi nodded. "Right." Then, he turned to me. "Please try to be a little more careful, Rika."

"I will, I will. Thanks for the concern." We both watched as Itachi flickered away, using the treetops to return home at a quicker pace. I wondered if it was the last time I would see him under friendly circumstances. I mean, even if they did relax a little when they found out it was only me, the tension was still pretty damn tangible. And the niceties were definitely forced.

I really hoped they didn't suspect me of anything. I would be on their sides no matter what, even if I couldn't do anything. The thought that they viewed me as someone who would go along with the clan's wishes no matter what hurt. Just a bit.

Shisui approached—a little cautiously, but only because I was still a little sniffly and red-eyed—and gently set his hand on my shoulder. "Are you okay?"

"No." Oops. I didn't mean to say that. "I mean yeah. Yeah. I'm perfectly fine." I shoved my hands into the pockets of my shorts and shrugged to brush off my slip-up. But even if I hadn't said the first part without thinking, he probably wouldn't have believed me.

"If you say so, Rika." He didn't question me anyway and lingered for a moment before he let his hand drop away and walked forward a few steps. "Let's get you home."

I reached out and grabbed his sleeve without thinking. "Wait." He glanced back, confusion and worry clearly prominent on his face. He used his other hand to pry my fingers off of his shirt—and it took a little effort, because I'd been clinging onto the material with more strength than I realized—but held onto them and turned to face me. My hands were still trembling slightly; he could feel it. He knew I wasn't fine. "I, uh, I don't wanna go back. Not just yet." I was being clingy and needy but I didn't care. He didn't mind it either.

"Does this have to do with why you were crying?"

I nodded. I didn't need to explain any further about why, because it was obvious. Everyone knew something big was coming and even those who hadn't been directly informed about the clan-wide coup just yet were aware of its presence. It was something heavy and foul in the air—tension and strife. The district was full of it.

Even if there was just a little more to my tears than just that, it was a large factor.

"I'm not saying I'm afraid or anything, but, well, I'm not saying I'm not, either."

Shisui squeezed my hand. "The safest place for you to be right now is home, Rika."

It was a lie. He didn't know it, but it was. Because home would be our grave. Well, one of ours anyway.

This could be the last time I would ever see him. And even though I'd known about it forever, I still wasn't prepared for that loss.

He was...my friend. Family.

And—I nearly slipped up bad. Almost told him I wanted to run away—almost asked him to run away with me, if only to keep him safe and alive, because he was too good for this stupid clan and if anyone deserved to know what was coming, it was him.

But I didn't. Because even though he was family to me, I still couldn't let go of the old one. Wouldn't. Our priorities were diametrically opposed, so everything would play out like it was supposed to.

"Alright. Let's go home." I pulled my hand from his grasp and folded my arms behind my head, throwing him a bright grin despite my watery eyes as I took a few steps away. "Wanna stay over for dinner with us?"

He smiled—and it was just a little sad. "Yeah. I do."

Us was more like just me and Shisui instead of Emiko and Satoshi, too. Satoshi was staying late for work with the police and Emiko had a meeting with the other mothers within the clan, but she'd set up leftovers for everyone to warm up and eat whenever they happened to come home.

It was a quiet meal. A little awkward. And a little depressing, too, because it could be the last time he would ever eat dinner with my family—or just me—in this house. And I guess I felt it consciously, too, because I went out of my way to be extra nice to him and make sure he had whatever he needed. Like—oh god—a last meal or something. Because he was going to die, he was going to die. Sometime. Soon. In a matter of days. Maybe hours. Maybe just a day. And the juice pitcher was empty. "Oh, I'll get a refill!" I leaned over to grab it, but Shisui caught my arm as I moved to my feet.

"Don't worry about it. I'll take care of this one." He rose to his feet as well and took the pitcher from my hands before heading to the kitchen. I followed after him because I was already standing and didn't really know what else to do. I would feel dumb if I just went to sit down again. Trailing after him like a lost puppy wasn't much better, though.

I swear I could see the grim reaper following after him. Probably just a hallucination, but maybe not. I mean, I had died before. And I did know when others in this world would die. Hell, maybe I was a type of grim reaper. That thought alone caused me to halt in my tracks so I was just hovering awkwardly between the dining area and kitchen, and when he turned around to bring the refilled pitched back to the table, that was the sight he was met with.

Shisui raised an eyebrow and frowned. "Rika, you shouldn't worry. I know things are kind of...uneasy...right now, but it's not something you should let get to you."

"Y-yeah. I know."

"It would be better if you didn't go wandering in the forest alone anymore, though. Especially with your sense of direction."

He was always one to lighten the atmosphere. I didn't know how he could do it, but he just could. And he was dealing with a heck of a lot more than I was. "You're right. I know." I watched him as he moved past me and set the drink back onto the table.

This was such a mundane, homey situation that the contrast was almost painful. I'd only ever been acquainted first-hand with the daily life of Konoha, but Shisui had lived in the world of shinobi for—well—forever. It was something he would put his life on the line for. Something he would sacrifice himself and his well-being for. I wondered just how often he'd been able to live as a regular person, without worrying about bloodshed and missions and obligation. Without having to worry about the future of the village. The future of the clan.

Probably never.

"Hey, Shisui—"

"Hey, Rika—"

We both spoke at the same time. He turned to face me, a little surprised—we both were, since that kind of thing never happened—and I cracked a grin. "You go ahead."

"Are you sure?"

"Yep. Go on." I was going to end up saying something stupid, anyway. Stupid and dangerous. I took a seat and poured us some drinks and he followed suit before speaking.

"You know, in a way I'm glad you didn't become a shinobi. Not because you wouldn't have the talent or anything, 'cause I'm still pretty sure you would've been a killer kunoichi if you wanted, but because...just...there are certain things about it that can even be difficult for someone like me."

Like clan loyalty versus village loyalty and having to pick and choose sides between family and the Hokage. He was talking about it in a roundabout way that I wouldn't have understood if I'd been any old ordinary person, and he probably didn't expect me to understand. Maybe he felt guilty about his decisions. But, really, his Kotoamatsukami would have been the ideal way to handle the rift between the Uchiha and Konoha. Even if it would have branded him as a black sheep and probably would have led to him being eaten alive by his own clan. A single sacrifice was better than mass-murder, anyway.

"I can imagine." I sighed, leaning my elbow on the table and dropping my chin onto my hand.

"What—you're not going to argue?"

"Nah. 'Cause you're probably right. I can't handle things like that." I could barely handle what I already knew. "I can't be like you. You do your best—more than your best. You do what you believe is right. If it were me, I'd probably crumble when I was faced with a choice that had to do with life or death or things that were important to me." I wondered if, in a roundabout way, he understood what I was saying.

He smiled slightly. "I always knew you were smarter than you let on, Rika."

"Not really. People talk and I'm just too nosy to not listen. And, well, if I just put two and two together..."

"Then…you probably already know that I won't be able to marry you after all." He wasn't saying this because he had a feeling he would die, but because he would likely be exiled from the clan and the name of Uchiha, ostracized, if his plan succeeded.

"Yeah. I kinda figured. Y'know—" I paused. "If there was anything I could do to help you, I would."

"I know." He moved to his feet and looked down at me, smiling fondly, before holding out his hand. "Thanks, Rika."

I took his hand and he helped me up before pulling me into a hug. It was brief, but it spoke of grief and parting—maybe just slight regret—gratitude, and...love. He was happy we'd met, spent all of that time together. It wouldn't go forgotten.

Ah, I could barely stand it—all of the emotion. I wasn't quite sure how to react, what to say, what would be the right thing to say, because this was probably our form of farewell, and I didn't want to mess it up or make it angsty or maudlin or sappy. I wanted us to remember each other on good terms, friendly terms. Like things could go on staying the same way they were now, forever.

But they couldn't. It was silly to think of it like that, even if it would be better that way. This was his choice, and he knew what he was doing—he'd made his decision. It didn't have anything to do with me, and I couldn't get in his way. I could only support him like a sidekick and believe in him—even when I knew how it would turn out.

"Thank you, Shisui. I'll...see you again."

He grinned, but it was a little sad. "You're never serious, are you, Rika?"

"Nope." I grinned, too.

It was the last time I saw him.

Chapter Text

Losing Shisui wasn't as bad as I thought it would be. I mean, sure, I cried, and it hurt about as much as it did to lose any family member. I didn't really have much to compare it to—I'd lost two grandmothers in my past life and we'd never been as close as I was with him, but the feeling of loss was always the same, mourning and all. If I could go back and change it, I wouldn't have wanted to get as close to him as I did, so his death would be more like the loss of a cricket crushed underfoot or something instead of a friend who was as close as a sibling. But that wasn't the difficult part.

The hardest part of it all was hearing the whispers; the rumors. People believed Itachi was the one to kill Shisui and the idea that it was a suicide was a hoax. Even Satoshi started to think it was true, because why would Shisui of all people kill himself?

They didn't know a thing about him. Or Itachi. They didn't know and it was their faults it had come to this.

Well, it was Danzō's fault, too, since he was such a goddamn eye whore, but it never would have come to that if the Uchiha coup wasn't in the making. Hiruzen was to blame, too. Mainly for letting his elder do whatever he wanted and turning the other cheek. That generation was just seriously flawed.

It was all downhill, from there. Shisui's death and Itachi's acquirement of the Mangekyō Sharingan was the climax and everything up until the massacre was falling action, useless time fillers. For me—not for everyone else. But it wasn't something that could be stopped, now.

Everything was a mess.

"Rika."

There was a light knock at my door. Emiko spoke gently, carefully, because she was under the impression I was super depressed over Shisui's passing and the annulment of our engagement. It had already been a few weeks since that day—I pretty much got over it. As much as I could, at least. The loss was difficult, but it didn't hit me too hard. The fact that my Sharingan never manifested was sort of proof to that (at least, I didn't think it did—no one pointed out my new wickedly red eyes if it did, anyway). I didn't even know if, given my circumstances, I was even capable of obtaining the dōjutsu. It didn't matter either way, though. If I did end up getting it, it would just get snatched right out of my skull.

Really, I just spent most of my time in my room because there was nothing else to do. The outside was boring. The inside was just as boring. I just wanted to wait it out and have the Fated Day hurry up and come deal out everyone's fates.

"Rika, will you come out?" She tried again. "It's been a few days since you've left the house. We're worried."

"Nothin' to be worried about, Mom."

"Oh, good, you're speaking to me. How about you go and do some shopping for me? You don't have to go far. Just...get out and stretch your legs."

I opened the door and blinked up at her, noticing the way her furrowed brow evened out when she set her eyes on me. Great. More people were worried about me. More people who loved me that would die.

"Alright. I'll go."

She threw her arms around me in a sudden, emotional hug. "Oh, Rika! I know things are difficult right now, but please try to be happy again! It will get better. It will."

Did I ever mention Emiko didn't exactly have the—ah—smallest chest in the world? And when she hugged me, my face went straight into her boobs. I flailed for a moment, worried I would maybe suffocate and die a little earlier than expected, but then managed to turn my head to the side and croaked out a response. "I—I know! Jeez, Mom, I know, okay?" I patted her on the back a little roughly but fondly, and she slowly let go. I took a deep gulp of air to save my lungs.

It really wouldn't get better, though.

I didn't think going outside would be a good idea, but I agreed to her suggestion anyway and set off to the market area within the district to pick up some fresh vegetables for dinner.

Uchihas. There were Uchihas everywhere. I mean, it was a given, considering where I was, but now I was hyper aware of that fact. They were as good as ghosts, now.

Auntie and Uncle at the bakery.

Short Akira from down the street.

A few police I'd seen Satoshi working with before.

A group of chattering mothers I'd done chores for in the past.

An elder lady whose dog I'd walked around the neighborhood before.

I knew a lot of their faces—more than I imagined. There probably wasn't a stranger around.

Ghosts, ghosts, ghosts. All ghosts. They were all doomed to die.

But that wasn't why I didn't want to go outside—it was the rumors that really ground my gears. And with my luck, just a few minutes after I finished my shopping, I encountered an anti-Itachi group. It was made up of those guys who hassled him in the series, I was pretty sure: Inabi and those other two whoevers. No idea if they'd already harassed him yet or not, though.

If I was smart, I would've just ignored their stupid, uneducated remarks and went on my merry way, but I never was one to just leave things as they were when it involved people I cared about. And I guess I was sort of looking for a fight, too, to get out all of that pent-up frustration. Just a verbal fight, of course, 'cause they were all older and I was pretty sure they all had their Sharingans, not to mention they were trained cops. Who I'd pissed off in the past. I was pretty sure Inabi still had it out for me and wanted to lock me up in jail for something, too.

Too bad I was in a bad mood.

"That's the dumbest thing I've ever heard," I cut in sharply, interrupting their conversation and jumping in as soon as they muttered something about the two boys.

They turned to face me and I crossed my arms as best as I could while holding a fully-stuffed grocery bag, scowling over a stalk of celery foliage that made for a super intimidating look.

"Why the hell do you think Itachi would be involved in something like that? But, more importantly, even if that were the case, you really think Shisui would go down just like that, so easily?"

Inabi stepped forward and I stepped back on rabbit reflex, ready to run, because he was always quick to chase when I pissed him off. That wasn't the situation this time, though. I didn't have a reason to run. But he still looked pissed off. Maybe his face was just stuck like that.

"You shut your mouth, Rika! You don't know what you're talking about."

Oh, but didn't I? I knew it all. Even if I couldn't say a single word about it. "I just think it's incredibly offensive to Shisui, is all. And a little bit to Itachi, too. They were friends... I mean, what do you know about it? Did you ever even have a proper conversation with either of them?"

"We know as much as the investigation gives us," the guy with the bindi or mole on his forehead—I never could figure out what it was—commented from Inabi's side.

"But that's none of your business," he cut in.

"It kind of is. Shisui was family. I wanna know what happened, too, stupid." I nearly stepped back again, when the pale-haired, older police guy in the group grabbed Inabi's shoulder to keep him from lunging. He muttered something along the lines of Shisui being engaged to me before the incident; I didn't catch the exact words but whatever he said calmed him down, just a little. And then they looked at me with eyes. The pitying, unsure kind of eyes, where they didn't know whether to give their condolences or to just let me be, because even though I was confrontational and didn't know how to hold my tongue, I was just a kid. A kid in mourning.

"There's more to it than you know, Rika. And you were close with both of them. Do you really want to hear it, if the truth turns out to be something bad?" Now he was speaking to me with his mature, adult voice that let me know he knew more than me. "It isn't something a kid like you should worry about."

I scoffed. "You be sure to tell me if you figure things out, then. I mean, a suicide is a pretty cut-and-dry thing. Sounds to me like you're reaching, but—"

"Rika!" A hand clamped down firmly on my shoulder and drew me back, away from the three Uchihas, and then I was at Satoshi's side. "Don't take offense to her words. She's still greatly affected by Shisui's passing."

I didn't want him to be there. I didn't want him to hear me say that, to cause any trouble, to maybe make him leery-eyed of me, too, for sticking up for Itachi in a roundabout way and also criticizing the military police—the clan, basically—and a quick stab of guilt hit my heart.

"Dad? I'm—"

"Apologize, Rika." Satoshi urged, tone bland. He probably wouldn't really care if I apologized or not in any other case, but the topic of Shisui's death was something serious. And when I argued with his coworkers, I was pretty much arguing with him, too, and while he wasn't directly involved in the investigation, he was still aligned with their beliefs.

No one trusted Itachi.

"Yeah. 'Kay. Sorry. None of my business, right." I gave a short bow and sent the three one last narrow gaze before walking away, not even bothering to say anything to Satoshi.

He wouldn't trust me, either, if he knew even a fraction of what I did.

A few days later, I found myself sitting at the cliff side of the Naka river where Shisui's final moments took place before he jumped to his death. It was uninterrupted scenery. Peaceful. No one could've known such a tragedy took place here.

I wasn't even sure how I found the place, since I could hardly navigate to save my life, but a walk in the outskirts of the forest turned into a trip to Shisui's resting place.

He'd done something great. He would've been someone great, if everything didn't go to shit.

Hell, maybe I could have helped change it all if I decided to do something in the past instead of making the choice to stay out of the way and let things play out as they were supposed to. It wasn't quite a regret, but more of a what-if.

My fifteen years didn't go to waste. They weren't a waste of time.

I just would have had more time if I used my foreknowledge for good instead of keeping it selfishly stored away as a memory.

Maybe it would bother me, eventually. If I kept this life in my thoughts as well once I died again, maybe I would have regrets. Just like I had regrets from my first lifetime. But, things could have been worse. At least I never did anything that would result in a different, more gruesome or less glorious death for someone else.

This was just the way things were. I would let it go, eventually. Because I did still want to try and get back home. Try to see those familiar faces I knew and loved one more time; try to tie up loose ends and take care of unfinished business. If I could have that, then doing pretty much nothing in this world would be worth it. Had to be.

A twig snapped somewhere nearby, behind me, and I glanced over my shoulder to see Itachi. He'd made the noise on purpose, clearly, to catch my attention. Because I knew as well as he did that shinobi didn't just let those kinds of things happen. They were quiet. Especially ANBU.

"Itachi." I managed a small grin and raised my hand in greeting as he approached. We hadn't interacted or spoken much over the past few years, but there were never any bad feelings between us. He was still easy to get along with, even if he didn't say much, and his presence was calming. Even if he would massacre the entire clan in a matter of weeks.

"Rika." He returned the greeting with a nod and stopped near my side, glancing out over the cliff at the waterfalls. Probably thinking. Wondering. Maybe regretting, and mourning, too. His expression was hard to read. Especially since I was sitting down and he was standing. Even if I was older, he was way taller than me. Both he and Shisui had been unfairly tall.

But at least I was taller than short Akira from down the street.

"The clan talks, you know," I commented, glancing back at the river and stooping forward to drop my elbow onto my knee and rest my chin on my hand. "They sure do talk." There was no need for clarification. But it wasn't quite an accusation, so much as a question. A prompt for him to speak, to say something in his own defense if he wanted, because, all things considered, I wasn't supposed to know what happened.

"What do you think about their words?" Either way, he already knew what I thought, just by the fact that I was here by the river.

I stuck my tongue out. "I think they're stupid. They don't know Shisui like I did. Like you did. And the fact that they think Shisui didn't do this himself, for something he knew he had to... it just kind of pisses me off."

"Did you—"

"I didn't know he would commit suicide," I lied. "But with the way things are, I knew there was something going on." I glanced up at him again and his eyes met mine. "I'm sorry, Itachi. I would have done something if I could." It was an apology for more than just Shisui's death, but there was no way he could know that. It was just something I sort of said. He was smart enough to know I shared their sentiments, at least.

"There was nothing that could be done." He sat down a little ways away and we stayed like that for a few moments, in silence.

"He loved you." Itachi broke the quiet and when I looked over, he was glancing at me from the corners of his eyes, just barely.

The way he said it—it had an underlying meaning to it. Because it wasn't a secret we'd been engaged, and if anyone else had been perfectly aware of Shisui's feelings for me, it was definitely him. But…the fact that he'd chosen to say that had me wondering if Shisui had tried to go and say something involving me when he spoke his last words. I certainly hoped he hadn't.

I smiled and waved my hand dismissively. "I know. It's okay. You don't have to tell me and treat me like some grieving widow. We weren't even married yet, y'know." I felt the smile slip from my face and did my best to keep it up. This shouldn't be a sad conversation. "But he loved you, too. He loved everyone." I reached over and clapped Itachi on the shoulder as I rose to my feet and his eyes widened, just slightly, at the familiar gesture. "It's something we'll never forget. No matter what anyone says."

I held my hand out to help him up and, once he was on his feet, too, I grinned. "Now, do you think you could help me get back to the neighborhood? I don't know how I got here."

I'll be damned if my predictable airheadedness didn't draw a hint of a smile from him.

Everything was winding down—there was an uneasy, yet at the same time, comforting, silence and period of inactivity surrounding the district. It was the calm before the storm.

Everyone was just ready to take up arms and start the fight, but before that, spend a few, precious moments with their families and loved ones in the case that the tide would turn against us, because you can't just go into a coup expecting no casualties or negative outcomes. Even if you were an Uchiha.

We weren't just a powerful clan—we were level-headed and logical, too.

It was only a matter of time, now.

For me, every day was a little tense, a little scary, because I never knew when a genjutsu would be dropped over my head or a katana would slice into me and rip my life away abruptly. It was worse than a jack-in-the-box, only at least those stupid things had a musical warning to let you know when they would pop out and give you a heart attack. This kind of thing wouldn't involve a musical overture—no way would Itachi start whistling a cheery, creepy tune as he tore through the district. (Obito, maybe. Danzo, maybe—no. No. that was way too creepy. Scratch that.)

I tried to hold my head high and act as carefree as possible, though, because it was so close. The day I'd been waiting for my entire second life was just on the horizon and I was that much closer to the chance of being returned to my home world.

I wouldn't lie—I was excited. But I was also terrified of the pain of death. I felt a mounting guilt about letting things go and not intervening when I had the chance. I felt a little bad that Itachi would have to shoulder this painful burden for the remainder of his life and live in exile. I didn't quite know what I would do if I looked Itachi in the eye before he took my life. Cry? Apologize? Say 'thank you?'

I definitely wouldn't blame him or curse him. I knew that much.

The wait was stifling. Irritating.

All I could really do was pace around the neighborhood or sit around at home waiting for it, like an obedient lamb awaiting slaughter.

But the fresh air was much more inviting and just...lighter. I didn't want to think about my impending death as something heavy and finite, because I knew there was a cycle that went on and on, and I'd most likely return to it once my time here ran its course. So, instead of lamenting the massacre and feeling sorry for myself and everyone it would affect, I looked towards it as a new beginning. Another start.

A fresh start.

The flickering burst of a flame near the lakeside caught my eye as I passed through the area on the way home from a snack run, distracting me from those depressing thoughts. An extremely welcome distraction. I already looked deep and dark enough with my Uchiha general appearance of dark, dark, and more dark...I didn't need the inside to match, too.

I squinted as I looked down the dock to see who was practicing katon jutsus in the middle of the day (the lake was pretty popular for training with fire, and a much smarter idea than a forest clearing around anything grassy and even remotely prone to catching fire...actually, it might have just become a the standard practice location because of my little incident in the forest so many years ago) and wasn't really all that surprised when I spotted a familiar duckbutt head of hair at the end of it.

"Hey! Sasuke!" A grin pushed its way onto my face as I jogged down the pier and waved. It'd been a while since I'd gotten to see the kid, since I started work at the hospital and he became a full-time student at the Academy, and he'd gotten a little taller since then. Or maybe it was just his hair.

Sasuke paused mid-hand-seal and turned slightly to face me, and when he saw me, he grinned and waved back. "Rika-nee!" The skin around his lips was a little reddened and just slightly burnt—just slightly—and the sight was a little nostalgic, reminding me of the first time I tried out the Grand Fireball with Kou and Shisui. Memories, memories…

As soon as his grin came, though, it was replaced by a slight pout. "I'm a little busy, here. Did you have to interrupt me?"

Ugh, what a cheeky little brat. I crossed my arms and leaned down to meet him at his height, not really having to bend that much since I wasn't that much taller, embarrassingly enough, but at least I was still taller than him. "Is that any way to greet someone you haven't seen in a while?" He dodged my hand when I reached out to ruffle his hair and continued to pout, puffing his cheeks out. "But yeah! Course I did! Not every day I see a little shorty like you tryin' out the clan techniques. Didn't look too bad, either."

His cheeks deflated a little as he eyed me dubiously, but then he shook his head. "It has to be better."

I shrugged. "Better'n mine already." He shrugged, too, and looked away, gazing out across the glassy lake in thought. By his scuffed face and sweaty forehead, he'd been working at the jutsu for a while, now. Right. The diligence was due to wanting his father's approval. But that was no reason to overwork himself. "Hey, wanna take a break for a while? I brought snacks and you look like you could use somethin'." I held up the plastic bag hanging from my wrist and smiled a crooked smile.

Sasuke eyed the bag for a moment, looking a little torn. "I dunno... Besides, all you ever eat are sweet things, Rika-nee."

"Ah, well, that's not a lie." He never used to complain about that when he was younger. But I guess tastes changed. "Then at least sit down and talk to me while I take a break." I dropped down onto the edge of the dock and let my legs swing over the side of the wooden planks, just barely skimming the top of the lake.

"What are you taking a break from...?" There was a crease between his brow, but instead of stubbornly continuing his training, he took a seat beside me, crossing his legs and glancing at the snack bag curiously, on the off chance that I had something that wasn't a pastry or candy. After taking what I wanted, I handed him the bag to dig through because even if he didn't want any of it, he was still a nosy kid.

"Life."

"Oh..." He nodded as if he understood, but the look on his face said he didn't. Maybe he wasn't even listening anymore. "I wish Itachi could spend time with me like this."

I glanced over at him sharply. Wasn't that just a Sasuke thing to say. But it was so sudden and a little heartbreaking that I couldn't help but feel a little bad for him. ANBU and loyalties kept Itachi busy since he'd become a chūnin, so there were very few times the brothers had time to bond. I knew how he felt, too, because it'd been the same with Shisui, but even then I'd probably hung out with him more often than Sasuke and Itachi had been able to. Shinobi life was busy life.

Still, I didn't know what to say.

"But I'm glad you're here, Rika-nee." He continued speaking before I wallowed in an awkward, uncertain silence for too long. He turned to me and smiled, looking hopeful. "Hey, you said you can do the Fireball technique, too, right?"

"I, uh, yeah. Once upon a time."

"Cool! Show me!" I wondered if this was his way of sneaking back to practice instead of just sitting down calmly and resting like a good kid so he didn't get heatstroke.

"Wait, I don't know if that's such a good idea. I mean, I'm not technically a shinobi, so—"

"So? I'm not, either."

"...Point taken." I sighed and moved to my feet before looking out at the lake and setting my hands together, ready to perform the hand seals while Sasuke also jumped to his feet and stood a little ways back, excited. He probably just wanted to see how he compared to someone else who knew the jutsu, but I guess he didn't exactly know I wasn't that proficient with it. I mean, there was a reason I never became a shinobi. No willpower or motivation.

Or the ability to remember all of the complicated hand seals.

I turned to Sasuke with my fingers laced together in a nondescript hand seal that wasn't much of a seal at all before smiling. "Uh, what was the order, again?"

"...Never mind, Rika-nee."

He would've laughed, anyway.

Chapter Text

The day the massacre would take place—the Fated Day—was a strange day.

I never thought I would be able to feel the difference—just assumed it would sneak up on me like any other day, mundane and uneventful up until the night of the slaughter, but it was different. Almost like living in a dream. Maybe it was because this was one of the most predominant scenes in flashbacks and its execution was always so poignant that it just stuck in my head and didn't let go, stamped on my brain forever. It was like everything was overlaying that memory, playing out like a recording. Like déjà vu. Even my morning meal with Satoshi and Emiko felt like something I'd done before, even though there was no way I could have known exactly what they'd been doing on this day, not to mention what I'd been doing, since I wasn't even there in the first place.

But it was familiar. It was something that was already carved out, something I knew, like wearing a pair of old, cozy shoes. It was like my steps were predetermined. Like my free will was snatched away, even though I knew I was controlling what I did.

Maybe it was because I'd thought about the day so much, so often, over the past fifteen years, combining it with scenes from the series, that I'd somehow imagined a thousand possible scenarios that just coincided with what was happening in real time.

But, because I knew this was the day, I could prepare myself. Say my last words to my family. And, as fate would have it, we were all present that morning to eat breakfast together—something that barely happened once a week, before. It was like the world was giving me a chance to say goodbye to the family that had raised me in this lifetime.

"Hey, uh," I coughed a little awkwardly as I pushed the food around on my plate, not having an appetite because my nerves were stretched thin and my stomach was so tense I probably would have thrown up whatever I ate that day. I didn't know where to begin. How was I supposed to go about saying my final words to the people who were my mom and dad? But this was my only chance. I wouldn't see Satoshi again until the evening or nighttime because of his schedule—he would never make it back home, where I planned to stay until the end. Emiko might come back after her daily rounds and visits with our neighbors, but that wasn't a certainty. Besides, I wanted to tell them together.

"Is something wrong, Rika? You haven't touched your food," Emiko observed after taking a sip of her tea.

"You should eat to keep your strength up." Satoshi's words were less warm than Emiko's and more matter-of-fact, but at least it showed he still cared. Even if I was difficult and unruly, rebellious and probably never made their life the easiest thing to live.

I set down my chopsticks and smiled a little, glancing down at my lap. "No, I'm just not really hungry. And I know." I glanced up curiously, quickly, to see that their eyes were set on me, both reflecting slight worry. "I'm just—I've been thinkin' about it for a while, and I know I've been a handful these past few years. Really troublesome and bratty and kinda awful. Selfish. But you two stuck by me no matter what and did your best with me, and I just want to let you know I appreciate that. And, well, uh, sorry for everything I did. I'll try to be a better daughter from now on." I used the edge of the table to rise to my feet and made my way towards the hall, stopping just in the doorway but not looking back at them to see what their expressions looked like. Probably surprised. Suspicious, because I never said things like that and opened my heart so candidly. I just fought and stayed stubborn until the end. But, well, I had to finish with some dramatic flair, too, now that I'd already begun. "Thanks for everything, Mom. Dad. I love you both."

I didn't wait for them to reply. It was supposed to be a final farewell, and I already knew they both loved me. Reciprocating the words weren't necessary.

That, and I just wanted to come off as really cool, just once in my life.

But, of course, Emiko had to go and ruin it all for me by grabbing me in a hug from behind and pulling me back into the dining area, sounding all maudlin and emotional. "Rika! Jeez, what's gotten into you, saying things like that? Are you finally mature? Responsible? Satoshi, is this really our daughter?!"

"M-Mom, you're choking me—"

Satoshi eased Emiko's arms away, but she still held on, albeit not as tightly as before. She really had an iron hold—I was surprised I didn't die. Then, Satoshi set his hand on my head and smiled, just a little.

"It is. She's the same rebellious one we've always had, Emiko."

Emiko shifted her hands to my shoulders and spun me around so I could face them both and see their proud, parental smiles. Not the usual scowls or exasperated frowns, shadowed eyes and stressed expressions, but light, thankful smiles. "Ah, you're right. She is. And we never could have asked for a better daughter."

"We love you too, Rika. And we always will. So, let's just keep on doing our best." Satoshi ruffled my hair and I looked away, feeling something misty in my eyes.

"Y-yeah. Let's."

Maybe they felt that the end was coming, too.

The pen stops moving. My thoughts end here and, well, really, there's just not a lot more to say. I spent the whole day filling up this empty notebook—one Emiko had given me for one of my grade school year birthdays to use at the Academy, which never really happened—with the best memories of the past fifteen years of my second life in Konohagakure as Uchiha Rika, and what I just finished writing happened only a few hours ago.

The rest isn't worth writing about, because it would just be writing about, well, writing. Rage-writing through an entire lifetime from the midday hours to the evening just to pass the time by and to remember all of the good times.

The sun sinks low towards the horizon and the sky is red, orange, fading into brownish purples, but the red is brightest to me because it's as deep as blood and a stark reminder of the upcoming genocide that's to happen in only a few short moments. Within the hour, maybe. Maybe two. Three. It's hard to tell, only that I know it's happening, and soon.

I'm ready. I don't have any regrets.

I take the several pages filled with my short life history and run my hand fondly over the cover. Then, I hold the book over the tip of the flame of the candle set on my small writing desk and watch the paper catch fire, burning, smoldering, blackening and crumbling into ash from the bottom up while gray flakes flutter to the varnished wood below.

My life—going up in flames.

A reflection of what would happen in a matter of hours. But then again, maybe I'm just erasing my tracks.

It's dramatic, I know, but earlier in the day I went the extra mile and pulled on my dark, darkest Uchiha clothes, deep, deep plum as close to black as I would allow, and black shorts. My mourning clothes.

Fully prepared, see? But it isn't just for me—it's for the whole clan.

After the flames flicker away and the papers are left as little more than a clutter of dust, I brush the remnants away into the trash bin and just...sit. There isn't really much of anything else to do.

I look down at the dragonfly hairpin on my desk and reach out to touch it—wondering if I should keep it on or leave it off, but really what does it matter?

Dragonfly.

A dragonfly.

Now, when I finally have the chance to let my thoughts wander and just distract me to fill out the time, I notice the irony of it all.

Like a dragonfly, my life has been short. Full of excitement and freedom to experience life as it is, as it happens, and having the future and the end in mind but only as a distant inevitability, not something to hold me down or push me back. I'd spread my wings and flew in the only way I knew I could—by doing whatever I damn well pleased, even if it fell short of flying.

I did have more than just a few months to live this life, but for all I knew, fifteen years—with only about twelve of those counting after I learned how to walk and stampede all over the place—of a human life was the equivalent to four or so months living as an adult dragonfly. Hell, even then, I didn't even really get to reach the adult stage a second time.

Would have been nice to try sake in its natural, cultural background.

But, of all things, the universe had to associate me with dragonflies. It sent me a fuck-you back in kind for all I'd done, but I guess I shouldn't expect anything less.

Like a dragonfly, I'm about to meet my end, too. And I'm going to be helpless to that fate.

Soon, it's dark. Nighttime. The stars twinkle bright in the sky and the only light in my room comes from the candle that's still lit, burning strong, but I expect it to blow out sooner or later, too, because it just seems appropriate. I'm not going to try to avoid anything. Hell, I left my door and window open just to make it convenient to get to me, not that it would be much of an obstacle if I hadn't done so. Things like that are nothing for highly trained shinobi.

Then, I hear the curtains swish—it could be the wind, but I know it's not, because the candle flame flickers out and leaves only a whisper of smoke in its wake, swirling, swirling, before fading out.

I know it isn't the wind, because death becomes a tangibility when it's been experienced once before. Like a sixth sense, it's always lingering, just there, right out of sight, until it's upon you, like a metaphorical whack-a-mole hammer, just waiting to strike. And you're the mole.

I know it's Itachi, because I can feel it. Not just death, but the remorse. The pain. He has—will, already has—slaughtered women and children. Elderly. People who he'd known and loved.

And there's no escape. For either of us. But for me—it's a gift. A release. A day to party and cheer and paint the town red (in this case literally), because, finally, finally, I'm that much closer to returning to my lost lifetime!

I can't help but smile.

But, still, I can't bear to face him, either, because I'm afraid I'll see the grim reaper's face instead of Itachi's. Maybe I'm afraid I'll turn around and see him wearing a creepy mask like those killers in horror flicks or, god forbid, a clown mask because wouldn't that just make this situation so much better—no.

I'm afraid I'll see him crying. I'm afraid I'll cry and make an idiot out of myself—but, wait. I'm already crying. Just a little. Not really sure if it's out of happiness or uncertainty, fear of the unknown, whatever. But it is happening. And it may have already happened to Emiko and Satoshi—I don't know. For all I know, Emiko could be lying in the living room, dead, bloody, with a blooming gash across her chest or back or whatever, whatever way he'd chosen to kill his brethren, but of course he would have made it quick and painless so there wouldn't be any suffering.

Maybe I should have planned this out a little better and put up streamers and balloons and a big ol' banner stamped with 'WELCOME, DEATH' and thrown confetti around just to ease the atmosphere—but that might have just scared him away, and that's the last thing I want at this point.

"Hey—what are you waiting for? Do it. Just make it quick and I'll forgive you, okay?"

It's all I can say. I don't want to make this hard for him, because it's something he has to do. It's the path he's chosen, like Shisui chose his, like I chose mine. We can't go back and change these things once they're already in motion, and they can't be stopped halfway. He has to go through with this. He has to kill us all, and only leave Sasuke.

It's his fate. Just like mine is to die at his hands.

There's a pause. An intake of breath, because it can't be easy, it can't be simple to slaughter so many members of his family in one night, because he's gentle, so gentle. Everyone knows it. His family knows it. It's why he can't bear to kill Sasuke, why he leaves him alive, to suffer alone, to learn the truth, to...to change things.

It's sad.

Then I can hear him grip his katana and the blade swishes through the air, quickly, silently and I'm ready, I'm waiting, smiling, for the deep embrace of death—

"Thank you for looking after Sasuke."

Those are the last words I hear before the world jerks to a stop, before darkness closes in, but it's not the last thing I hear.

Somewhere, in the distance, away from here, away from us, away from this world, a baby is crying, waiting for me, for my soul, because the cycle continues; because it isn't the end, not just yet—not for me.

My life still sucks, and that's never changed.

END

Chapter Text

EXTRA — Shisui

The first time Shisui began to realize his feelings for Rika was all due to a passing comment made by Itachi.

"Shisui, what does a crush feel like?"

"A—a what?" He stumbled. If not because those words in that very order just came out of his best friend's mouth, but because—well, who was he kidding? That was exactly why it caught him so off guard. But after the initial shock wore off, he couldn't pass up the opportunity to tease the younger boy. "Why, got someone you like, Itachi?"

"No; I was only curious. I've heard classmates and teammates discuss it before." Itachi ignored the way his friend waggled his eyebrows in a comically suggestive way as he dropped an amiable arm across his shoulders. Didn't even flinch or stammer, always one to remain cool. "Why is it called a 'crush,' exactly?"

For all of his genius, Itachi sure could be dense at times.

Shisui sighed and stepped away, crossing his arms and coming to a stop while Itachi walked a few more paces along the trail to the training grounds before stopping as well. He scratched at his head, then, and squeezed one eye shut as he glanced out into the distance and tried to form an appropriate response. Itachi had obviously asked him this in confidence, seeking advice, since he was the older of the pair and thus logically more experienced in these matters. Supposedly. He couldn't let his friend down with some lame answer.

But the more he thought about it, the more a familiar face took shape in his mind. A cute, impish grin that promised nothing short of shenanigans that struck both fear and worry into his heart, but also a certain fondness. A mop of dark, wild hair that was a weird mix between spiky and wavy that couldn't be mistaken in a crowd, and—a glare. A pout. Furrowed eyebrows and hands set firmly on hips, a sharp jab to the chest with an index finger, hurt feelings… all of it led to an inexplicable twinge in his heart that he absentmindedly raised his hand to soothe.

"Uh…because it hurts," he began, not really sure where his answer was going or what he was trying to convey, but not knowing how else to put it; feeling an underlying regret from a recent conversation with a certain girl that ended worse than he possibly could have imagined that spurred on his answer. "It's like, when someone you like being around, a lot, suddenly stops talking to you and you don't know what to do about it or how to make things right again, but you want to, because you don't want that person to stay mad at you. It hurts not talking to them like normal and you just want things to go back to how they were. So it kind of…crushes…you until things are better." He continued looking out into the distance, in the direction where the Uchiha district lay on the village's outskirts, and a certain face stuck in his mind once again. He wondered what she was doing right about now—aside from causing mayhem, anyway.

"I see. I guess that makes sense," Itachi nodded thoughtfully, before glancing at his friend with a knowing look and half-teasing half-smile. "So, who do you have a crush on?"

"Wh—what? Me?" The older boy's head snapped back towards his friend, eyebrows arched in surprise. Whatever he'd been thinking about with that pensive, dreamy look on his face was gone; a lost thought, replaced with a sheepish smile. "I don't have a crush on anyone. It's just," he paused, sighing. "I kind of got into a fight with Rika. Remember when I told you I was gonna show her my Sharingan?"

"And remember that I told you it was a bad idea?"

Shisui laughed nervously. "Well—yeah. But I showed her, and…I don't know, things just turned bad fast and some pretty harsh things were said. I didn't mean it—not really, but…I don't know how to say it."

"Just apologize." Itachi shrugged. It seemed a simple enough answer to him. Shisui was probably making it harder than it was—Rika wasn't the type to refuse an apology. Speaking of Rika, it was clear as daylight that Shisui was fretting over this because he liked her. And it wasn't just something made apparent by this conversation—Shisui always had something to say about the girl, and if he didn't know better, he'd say talking about her was one of his favorite topics. "If you like her that much, apologize."

"If I—" Shisui's face reddened. Maybe it was true. Maybe he did like her. If he didn't, why did being at odds with her twist up his heart so much? "Yeah," he agreed, masking his blush with a goofy grin. "Yeah, you're right. Thanks, Itachi."

Somehow, even though he was supposed to explain what a crush was, he'd been the one to get advice.

The second time Shisui began to realize his feelings for Rika was thanks to a near-death mission that had him rattled. It was silly, it was stupid, it was completely irrational, but—the only thought that had been on his mind when he'd almost been killed was that he wanted to see Rika again. It wasn't that he was on the verge of failing a mission, on the brink of letting his village down…it was that he wanted to return alive to see that girl.

That was exactly what he aimed to do the moment he returned home.

But when he found her, he couldn't quite bring himself to approach her.

She wasn't alone.

She was with Sasuke—had him perched on her shoulders as they wandered through Konoha's shopping district. Probably just picked him up from the Academy and decided to buy him something nice, judging by the pastry bag she held in one arm. The two got along well; they were close, almost like siblings. Even with her wild personality, she was good with kids.

He didn't want to interrupt their bonding. He was content just watching from afar—watching her smile and laugh at something Sasuke said as he pointed at something they passed. She was happy, now. There wasn't that brief, misplaced, far-off look in her eyes that sometimes flickered by—that faint sadness she sometimes looked at him with, like she knew something he didn't, or that she understood something more than he expected. She was like that, sometimes. Rowdy and foolish, but sharp. She understood a lot of things and had more intelligence than she let on, he knew.

A flash of light caught his eye—something in her hair caught the sunlight and shimmered.

With a jolt of his heart, he realized it was the hairpin he'd given her when they were younger. Not much younger, but at times, working as a shinobi, life felt so stretched out and just…long. It had been maybe a year and a half, two years, since he'd given her that gift. And she still wore it.

It was probably then…no, it was definitely then, when he realized the true extent of his feelings for her.

EXTRA — Itachi

Rika was a strange girl.

Itachi never was quite sure what to think of her, or her silly antics—though it was a nice change of pace when she outwitted his father and kept up a chase through the district to avoid punishment. She exasperated him, for sure, but at the end of the day when he complained about it, there wasn't an ounce of harshness in his face. Sometimes he wondered, if he and Sasuke had a sister, Fugaku would want her to be like Rika.

Sasuke adored her.

Mikoto loved her like a niece.

Shisui was head-over-heels for her.

But Itachi never could bring himself to like her. He didn't hate her, but he didn't…like her, either. It was more of a neutral acceptance than anything. She was just too unpredictable.

Maybe he was a little jealous. Because of how free and unfettered the girl was, like the wind. The wind could go everywhere and anywhere, unlimited, unbound. She never minced her words and she said whatever she wanted, regardless of what others would think. She lived life like she was going to die tomorrow and, really, he admired that about her a little, too.

No matter what he thought about her, she was a constant in his life. He couldn't turn around without hearing someone say her name, whether it was from her latest mayhem masterpiece or from mere gossip. She probably didn't even realize how popular she was in the neighborhood, but the day she dyed all of the clan's khakis purple won her fame for a lifetime. He still had his ruined pair of fuchsia pants hidden in the back of his closet.

In the end, it didn't really matter how he felt towards her. Sasuke enjoyed her company in his absence and he was grateful she was there to look after him. Maybe their relationship was best summed up as family. Distant, but tied together by invisible bonds and the blanket term of "family." She wove her way into their hearts.

He never thought he'd have to cut her out of them.

"Look after Rika for me?"

Damn Shisui. Damn him. He phrased it as a question, gave him the choice to reject, but how could he? How could he, when his best friend was bleeding from both eyes and on the edge of death? Even if he wouldn't hold it against him if he said no, even if he wouldn't even be around to see it—

It wasn't a promise he could keep. In the end, he would have to cut her down just like the rest of them. Because Sasuke, Sasuke he could leave alive. But only Sasuke.

Rika, though…she was the heart of the clan. She was lively, and energetic—kept them all on their toes, made them laugh, smile, yell, glued together with cheerful commotion. Kept them alive. She was the first one he went for, because if he went for the heart first it would make the rest that much easier. It would make killing his own parents that much easier because he would have the peace of mind in knowing they would never forgive him for killing someone they loved.

He was fully aware that when he struck her down, he would die, too, as an Uchiha. The Uchiha clan in its current state was done for.

Then why was it so damn hard? He'd landed on her windowsill, saw her with her back to him, and she was only a civilian, a defenseless young girl who wouldn't stand a chance against him. He could make it quick. He should make it quick.

His hands shook as he clutched his blade.

He couldn't do it—but if he didn't, someone else would. She didn't deserve that. None of them did. It just…had to come to this. For the greater good of the village.

"Hey—what are you waiting for? Do it. Just make it quick and I'll forgive you, okay?"

She knew he was there. Of course she did, unpredictable as she was. Shisui always said she was smarter than she let on. Maybe, if he'd taken the time to properly get to know the girl, they'd have gotten along. If she was so smart, then, she would understand this. She would know why it had to be this way.

He just wished she hadn't said she'd forgive him.

He inhaled sharply, stilled himself. Steeled his will.

"Thank you for looking after Sasuke."

One slice is all it took. Her body fell, limp, against the desk in front of her as a black stain seeped out across her back, dripping to the floor.

He didn't feel any better. This didn't feel any easier. But he didn't have the time to look at her corpse and dwell on what he'd done, because there was more to do.

His only regret was that he couldn't keep Shisui's promise.

Chapter Text

EXTRA — Sasuke

It was something he'd long since forgotten.

Someone he'd forgotten, being so young, being so…traumatized, bitter, and jaded in the aftermath of what happened to his family and all he'd been through.

If some of the Uchiha compound wasn't still standing, if this one particular concrete wall smudged with the faded remnants of a painted memory hadn't been standing, he might never have remembered her at all.

He couldn't remember how, or if, they were related. Maybe they weren't. But when that devilish grin came up in his mind—the only part of her he could really recall, aside from a bright, dragonfly-shaped barrette clipped onto her bangs—the vague sense of family accompanied it.

That, and a name—Rika.

Rika-nee…?

"Let's go and make a huge mural…!"

Sasuke traced the smudge on the wall with his good hand—his only hand, right now—wondering if maybe, it wasn't paint at all. Not through the several seasons that passed, not through all the rain that washed it clean. It was just a conveniently-placed mark that wiped off easily enough when his finger brushed over it. But the memory remained.

"Look; you missed a spot! Can't have Itachi's eyes looking two different sizes, now can we?"

"She was defacing private property!"

"Rika-nee, what does 'defacing' mean?"

"…You painted it for Itachi?"

Right. It was supposed to be a larger-than-life rendition of his brother. Not that it resembled anything even remotely human when he was done, but…he'd excuse his child self for that. And even if his brother never did get the chance to see it, so would he.

At a time not too long ago, these memories of a happier, carefree time would be bitter. Painful. Now, after so many battles fought, after wars waged, after everything, they were melancholy, with just a twinge of regret.

He wouldn't consider Rika a missing piece of a puzzle, because he may have gone on his entire life not remembering her and never feeling anything out of place, but now that the memories returned, no matter how hazy, it somehow felt right. She belonged there in his memories just like old Teyaki and Uruchi.

She was an Uchiha who had lived within this compound, too.

As the memories of the marks she'd made settled in, he traced a ghost through the district from the starting point at the mural.

There, in the place his home once stood, where she'd been a common fixture—babysitter, probably.

Throughout the market district, and the alleyways between as they tailed another with their amateur espionage skills—Shisui, was it?

"I'm on a super-secret mission right now. Shisui is my target… if you're gonna help…promise me you can keep quiet and stay out of sight, too, Sasuke."

"I can, I can!"

And into the outskirts of the forest, where the notion that they'd hunted stag beetles and bugs during the heat of summer lingered.

"Are you ready, Sasuke? We're lookin' for the really big, horned ones. Stag beetles. Rhinoceros beetles and, uh… those kinds."

"Yeah! I'll find all the best ones! Then I'll give the bestest best one to Itachi."

Of course, the proof was only in his memories, and not in the trees, or the dirt at his feet. The beetles that remained in this season of sticky summer heat among leaves and bark were worlds away from that particular moment, just echoes of the past.

He left the forest behind and returned to the main road, passing so many locations he'd once known. It was pointless nostalgia, really, but he just wanted to see the district once more before going away.

On his way out, though, a light caught his eyes—just a flicker, glinting in sunlight.

Something half-buried in the dirt, once stomped down and forgotten, now unearthed by chance and by recent rains among a space that had at one point been a row of houses. He looked at it, at the tarnished, bent silver of the shape and the dull, dirty purple that couldn't hold up to the test of time completely. Then, he crouched down to pull it free from the dirt and held it in his hand, brushing mud away with his thumb. The shape: four wings, and a long, insect body, revealed itself.

Sasuke held the dragonfly hairpin to the sunlight and admired the way it retained its shape, resilient, even if the clasp had long since snapped away. And in that sunlight, in the dull rays that illuminated the gems set within, he saw Uchiha Rika's bright, roguish grin paired with a friendly, cheery wave, before she turned her back and disappeared. Gone, but no longer forgotten.

At one point, he considered her a sister.