Chapter Text
Why am I crying?
Why am I lost?
Why do I stand still?
Please tell me
When will I grow up?
How long can I be a child?
Where did I come running from
And hey, where am I running to?
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Hatake Niwa had always been a crier. Even prior to their father’s death, she would cry constantly and without warning—when she unintentionally trampled an insect to death, when the seeds she carefully planted failed to sprout, and especially when Kakashi was ignoring her. This behavior was undoubtedly a consequence of her inability to speak despite being already six years of age. It was also not at all surprising, then, that after Sakumo Hatake suddenly passed away a year ago and left behind his two orphaned children, her disposition only worsened.
“Niwa, hurry up! You’re going to be late…which means I’m also going to be late.” Kakashi called impatiently from the doorway. As usual, he was impeccably dressed: his polished headband glistened in the early morning light, and their father’s tanto blade rested snugly in its holster on his back. Being tardy as a serious shinobi was never acceptable, but particularly not today. After all, it was his first session with a new team under the tutelage of none other than the famed Yellow Flash, and he was not going to make a poor impression by being late.
When his sister finally stepped out of her room, he frowned. Not because her perpetually tangled brown hair resembled an unfortunate bird’s nest, or that her outfit was clearly haphazardly thrown together, but rather because her eyes were bloodshot. Again. Which meant only one thing…
Kakashi closed his eyes and forced himself to take a slow, deep breath. Maybe being late today was going to be inevitable. He sighed, carefully unzipped his sandals, and walked over to where she stood, rooted outside of her room.
Her hands tightly clutched a worn cloth notebook, but she made no effort to open it or write in it. Instead, Niwa eyed him defiantly, her lips shaped into a downwards pout.
“I’m not having this discussion with you again,” Kakashi responded evenly, his arms crossed. “You are going to start at the Academy today whether you like it or not.”
Niwa shook her head emphatically, her eyes brimming with fresh tears. Kakashi stared at her for a moment, then sighed again.
“Look, you can’t just stay at home forever. Everyone has a purpose, and ours is to become excellent shinobi, just like Dad was.” He reached over and straightened her collar. “Also, you really shouldn’t cry so much. You may be a girl, but they’ll still bully you for being a crybaby.”
Niwa bit her lip and angrily wiped away a tear but still didn’t budge. Kakashi felt a familiar twinge of annoyance and rolled his eyes. He really didn’t have time for this.
“Come on,” he muttered, grabbing her wrist and dragging her to the door. Surprisingly, she put up minimal resistance, though her expression remained pitiful. He attempted (unsuccessfully) to brush her hair, shoved a lunchbox into her hands, and pushed her out the door.
They meandered through small alleyways that blended into larger streets. Konoha was truly beautiful this time of year, with its lush hills and delicate cherry blossoms that coated the ground with a fine layer of pink dust. Kakashi stretched his hands lazily over his head as he basked in the gentle warmth of the rising sun. Despite the ongoing war, this time of day always felt peaceful: the village was still groggy, and the shops had yet to open.
He periodically stole glances at Niwa, who, albeit at a snail’s pace, continued to trudge along behind him. The lunchbox that hung from her wrist swung rhythmically, hitting her knees softly with each step. He frowned again. She looked so small and absolutely miserable, like a prisoner walking to the gallows. Naturally, he worried about her. He remembered being excited on his first day of Academy, but he had reason to be confident then. Not to toot his own horn, but it had been readily apparent at that point that, in terms of skill, he was already leagues ahead of the other kids. Niwa, on the other hand, refused to train seriously. It wasn’t that she was necessarily untalented… she just never seemed interested.
Then, there was the obvious issue: her mutism.
The doctors had reassured them that she was simply exhibiting a longer-than-usual delay in speech development, that it would be a phase she would eventually get over. Unfortunately, those promises became increasingly less believable as each additional silent year went by. The ugly truth was that communicating through drawing (especially when you’re six) had its limits, and when Niwa hit those limits, she easily became frustrated. And with frustration came the inevitable loss of emotional control.
He would never admit this out loud, but truthfully? Niwa irritated him. Even before their father’s death, he resented her. Maybe because the day she entered his life was also the day he had lost his mother. Or that Dad had babied her endlessly. Making her weak. The thought had entered his mind reflexively. His brow furrowed as he felt a pang of guilt. He furtively looked back, and the guilt was replaced with exasperation. Her somber expression was really beginning to bug him because, unlike most things, he simply did not understand it.
He averted his gaze and doubled down. She IS weak. That’s why she needs to grow up by going to the Academy. There, she’ll learn that tears and emotions are weaknesses. And shinobi must never show any weakness.
Still, he could not help but to worry as he dropped her off at the Academy entrance. The new entrants were an assorted platter of emotions: most were giddy with anticipation, some were visibly nervous, and a few, like Niwa, looked like they would rather be literally anywhere else. Parents embraced their children. Some even shed tears of pride. Niwa just stared, unimpressed. She didn’t understand what the big fuss was about.
“Hey.”
Her attention snapped back to Kakashi, who was now standing directly in front of her. In a genuine but misguided attempt at comfort, he placed a hand dubiously on her shoulder. Her gray eyes blinked at it, then slowly gazed up at him, confused. He immediately withdrew it. Why was this so hard? It’s because you’re a bad brother.. a small voice in his head replied. He promptly ignored it.
“...Good luck today,” he muttered quietly. “I’ll pick you up in the afternoon at this spot, so don’t go wandering off.”
A bell sounded before she could respond. “All new students, enter here please!” A young sensei with glasses and opaque eyes waved her arms at the crowd of children. “Line up and pick up your name-tags and class assignments!” Niwa took her place behind a boy with slick blonde hair that was pulled back into a neat ponytail. She observed him as he selected his name-tag. Yamanaka Aoi. Blue. What an interesting name, she thought. She combed through the tags and selected her own, carefully pinning it to the front of her shirt. Unbeknownst to her, this innocent act had already triggered the trap of impossible expectations. Several sensei in the vicinity raised their eyebrows and eyed her curiously. Hatake? That’s right… The White Fang did have a second child.
But would she be a prodigy like her brother?
Niwa wasn’t paying attention to them. Now that she had a change of scenery and a flock of potential new friends, she was finally beginning to feel excited about this whole school thing. Maybe being a shinobi like her father and her brother wouldn't be so scary after all. An unexpected smile tugged at the corner of her lips, and she whipped around, scanning the entrance one last time. The smile faded slightly. Of course, Kakashi had already left.