Disclaimer: I do not own the anime series Naruto, its characters, or any plot or storylines within the Naruto-verse. Hanako (OC) and any non-canon characters within this fiction are owned by me.

Summary: The cost of war was unavoidable. The fisherman village could barely sustain itself, and so she was sold to a mercenary clan. Watch how Hanako struggled to not only find her place, but also survive the power struggle within the Senju clan. Pre-Konoha, slight AU, TobiramaxOC. Rated M just to be safe.

Important NOTE: Updates on this story will be slow until "For My Clan, For You" is finished. Thank you so much for your continuing support!

oooooo

Flower Child

Her mother said she was always like water.

Water was powerful; it carved its way through earth, stone, and rock. It destroyed iron, and doused fires. When water was trapped, it made itself a new path. Never caring for a fleeting moment where its path would take it, or where it wound up. Ultimately, water was the giver of life, and it could take life away if it wanted. Water decided when the plants would grow, and it decided when to cause pain or nourishment.

Water was where she lived, and what she breathed. The salty air lifted honey colored tresses, entangling them with the wind's fingers as she stood at the edge of the long wharf. One lanky arm was wrapped around a wooden post, and the other rested at her side. She was only twelve, barely a stripling of a woman. Her mother passed away only a few months ago. From what she could understand, her mother became ill after eating foul fish. The sickness manifested, which lead to a fever, and then a coma, and then, nothing.

Somber, cerulean orbs scanned the horizon, as if she was waiting for her mother's angel to flitter down from the heavens to give her comfort. The sun was beginning to set as it kissed the water, getting ready to allow the moon to take her place amongst the stars and provide protection and comfort for her children. Her mother was the same, her mother never slept unless her children did. She had three in total, two were dead, and the third was left to watch over her father and their small humble village.

The village itself was tiny, with only about ten or so houses and a population of about thirty. They were a poor village, but made ends meet by using their position adjacent the ocean to fish and sell fine shells and pearls to any travelers. There was no declared leader. Rather, a set of older men who gathered to decide what was best for the village and helped with the stores and managing the fishing equipment. The younger men did the actual fishing, they were hailed as heroes when they brought in buckets full of fresh fish to sell and eat.

That wasn't very often though.

Truth be told, the village was almost leading into desolation. Some had left to try and join other more bountiful villages and others have simply given up trying to help others, and they would spend their trade goods on alcohol and an herbal tea that was said to induce hallucinations. She believed it wouldn't be long before the village became unsustainable, and people either died from starvation or left to find better means, if they weren't cut down by any shinobi in the process.

The shinobi for the most part treated their village kindly. Unfortunately there were a select few clans who would raid the village and steal any money or supplies they could. The fishing village couldn't defend itself; they were mere fishermen and gatherers who would try to make peace with travelers through trade and offering accommodation and sustenance. There were those who would take more than what they needed, which left the humble village scrambling to get by on their own.

Thus was the price of warring states.

"Hanako!"

She blinked, her blue eyes refocusing on the water's surface and the young girl craned her neck to see who had called her name.

It was Mako, one of the young fishermen. He was six years her senior, but after the death of her mother and siblings, he became something akin to an older brother to her. He always made sure that she was well fed and looked after when her father was away.

The girl turned fully, still clutching the wooden pillar that protruded from the dock, the fishermen would normally use it to tie off their flimsy boats, but they were out for the day. Her small figure started walking towards the older male who had addressed her, and she swept some of her long hair from her eyes. At the moment, her hair was the only way for people to even distinguish that she was a girl. She was twelve years old and still held a boyish figure hidden under a grey mid-length yukata and black cotton pants.

"Your father's looking for you," Mako addressed her again; his black hair was pulled back into a top knot, but wisps of his hair still swept across his creased brow.

He watched as the girl walked across the wharf and back onto solid land. When one looked at her, they would see a tiny, thin frame with neither barely any meat nor any sign of curves. If her hair was chopped off, she would probably be mistaken for a boy. She had a rounded, heart-shaped face with large almond eyes that reflected deep pools of cerulean blue. Her pretty face was a gift from her mother. As she approached Mako, the wind had calmed and her hair was set down in a mottle mess atop her head. The older boy chuckled and reached out to ruffle the long dark honey locks.

"Come on Hana," he called her affectionately and stepped to the side to allow the young girl to pass, "he'll be mad if you dawdle,"

Hanako simply nodded. Her nickname was Hana, which meant flower. Her full name meant 'flower child', which was what her mother gave her as she was born in the middle of spring. However, many in the village simply called her 'Hana' for short. It was a nickname she neither liked nor disliked, but she had a severe problem with strangers calling her by this name. She didn't talk much, and was a fairly quiet child, barely getting into mischief or causing grief for her father.

She spent most of her days doing chores around the village. This ranged from washing clothes to making lures and fishing baskets for the fishermen. Her mother taught her how to cook and look after a family at ten years old. She was the middle child in her family. Her older brother was killed out at sea; a storm ravaged their little boat and he was tossed overboard, never to be seen again. Her younger brother on the other hand had contracted an illness. Many goods were traded for medicines for him, even her mother's most precious pearl combs. Unfortunately, nothing could save him. This devastated her mother, and she was left bedridden and her father held a severe drinking problem, so at such a tender age it was up to Hanako to make sure her parents were fed and nourished while they grieved for the loss of their two sons.

No one really stopped to think that maybe Hanako needed a parent's love in such a difficult time.

Hanako had left Mako at the wharf before stepping inside the little wooden cabin that served as a home to herself and her father. There were only four rooms in the cabin; a sitting room, a wash room, a kitchen, and a bedroom. Each room was rather small, and if one needed to relieve themselves they had to use a communal privy located near the water.

As she approached her home, she saw strangers congregating outside. They were completely foreign, and their maroon armor coupled with white headbands indicated they were warriors of some sort. Were they a mercenary clan? As a small, neutral village, they received many travelers throughout the seasons looking to resupply and rest under a roof. There had been the odd occasion where Hanako would feel threatened or endangered by their presence, but her father assured her that as long as they were hospitable, there was very little chance the travelers would turn on their hosts and sack the village. It was not the honorable thing to do according to shinobi law.

There were at least half a dozen of these strangers, and they were all sitting cross legged or against the wall of the cabin. They looked exhausted, like they had just been through a skirmish. Some men appeared to have been freshly bandaged, while others were drinking from leather pouches and brewing herbal teas over makeshift fire pits.

"Hana, are you out there?"

The voice of Taiga Higurashi, her father, made her head jerk away from the strange soldiers and into the open door of the hut. She kicked off her worn sandals and stepped into the room. The cabin was elevated slightly to allow water to pass underneath the building. During the wet season, their village often flooded.

Hanako then paused when she noticed there were more of those strangers in her home, and her father was sitting cross legged on the tatami mat while an older man sat with two younger boys across from her father. Hanako lifted her chin as she examined the older man. He appeared to be her father's age, but his brow seemed forever creased into a permanent frown, and his mouth upturned into a constant scowl. His eyes were dark and brooding under thick brown eyebrows. His forehead was absent of a headband, which allowed his thick brown locks to fall about his neck, with some of his bangs sweeping across his eyes.

The man almost frightened Hanako.

"Hanako," Taiga said sharply and the young girl drew in a breath and stood rigid as she looked at her father.

"Prepare some tea for our guests," he commanded.

With a single dip of her head, she skittered across the floor and into the kitchen, barely sparing a glance at the two younger boys in the room. As she was boiling water in the pot and placing tea leaves in a wicker strainer, she could hear the conversation through the thin paper walls.

"Thank you for tending to my foolish son so diligently," the terrifying man's voice wrung through the next room.

Ah, they must have been attacked and this man's son was injured. He must have been someone of importance if he stopped a whole company of shinobi to seek medical help from a strange village just to care for his son.

Her father's voice came next.

"Your boy's in capable hands, Lord Butsuma,"

"How long until he will be fit to travel?"

"Let him rest for a day, you can travel the day after the morrow,"

Hanako wondered if the older men were referring to one of the young boys in the room, or perhaps there was a third boy in another cabin? Before she could think any further, a scowl and a sigh of frustration was heard.

"Hashirama, you need to train your brother better,"

"He was outnumbered father," A new voice, one that belonged to not a boy, but barely the brink of a man.

"His sensory skills may be unmatched, but his defensive skills are sloppy,"

"Just be grateful he's not dead!"

Tension rose. Hanako could feel it through the thin walls, then there was a brief silence.

"Itama, take your brother outside so he can cool his head,"

Hanako stared at the pot as the water began to boil over, and she finished preparing the tea.

oooooo

She stared at the injured boy lying on the tatami mat, asleep.

Hanako had been instructed to bring fresh bandages and clothes to the injured boy located in Yura's home. Yura was an elderly woman who possessed extensive medical knowledge through her years of travel. She was the village's doctor, and settled in the small village almost forty years ago, when Hanako's father was still young. Hanako would often be seen with her gathering herbs and creating ointments for wounds. Yura was nowhere to be seen, and the young Hanako had a pile of clean bandages in her arms. Was she to change the boy's bandages herself?

The young boy in question was a unique sight. Her ocean blue orbs took in every detail of his face. His skin was pale and glistened with sweat from the fidgeting over how painful his injury was. His jaw was narrow, and his chin pointed. He had high cheekbones and his nose was slightly curved, almost child-like. He didn't seem much older than her, but was almost on the very cusp of manhood. She couldn't make out his eyes though, as they were closed and he was resting. What stood out though was the boy's hair; it was stark white, almost like snow. Hanako had seen snow a few times in her life, when it was cold enough during the winter season there would be the occasional snowfall in her village.

As she stared curiously, one of her hands reached out to touch the snowy hair.

Another hand shot up and grabbed onto her wrist.

It frightened her, and she yelped in pain.

"What are you doing?" the boy rasped out as his eyes cracked open a sliver.

Hanako knelt down next to his sleeping form on the old tatami mat, and she gestured to the bandages in her lap.

"Your bandages need changing," she mumbled softly, barely audible.

The boy scoffed as he sat up slowly, wincing as a shooting pain formed in his stomach, "I don't need your help, where is Hashirama?"

Hanako knew that one of the boys she had met in her father's home was known as 'Hashirama', could this boy be one of the brothers? All the response given to the white haired boy was a shrug and a shake of her head. She looked down and examined the bandages across his stomach. They had soaked through slightly, as small blotches of red were seen against the off-white colored material. She had heard it from Yura, the boy had been slashed across his stomach, and the weapon had barely missed any vital points. The shinobi outside had rushed the boy here, to the nearest village, where they could at least get him quick treatment for the wound. Hanako had also learned that they were at least two days off from their home village, so leaving treatment too long would have been fatal.

Looking him up and down again, Hanako noted that he was quite scrawny. He had barely any muscle or even fat on him compared to his older brother. She also noted that his eyes were an unusual vermillion color, and were narrowed in annoyance; annoyance at her.

"What?" he snapped.

Hanako lowered her gaze slightly, "Are you shinobi?"

The boy cocked his brow, "Yea, what of it?"

Hanako inclined her head curiously and allowed her cerulean gaze to stare up at him again.

"It's just, you don't look much like a shinobi," she said absently.

The boy scoffed again, clearly irritated by what she had said.

"Well you don't look much like a girl," he retorted.

Hanako was about to respond again, but soft footsteps echoed through the room. The two children looked over to the door to find Yura standing there. Her greyed hair was up in a bun and her eyes were squinted, showing off her crow's feet and elderly wrinkles. She wore a simple grey yukata that came to her ankles.

"Ah, good to see you're awake," Yura said as she stepped into the room.

"Where is Hashirama?" the white haired boy repeated as he fisted the sheets, clearly frustrated with the situation. He seemed like one who didn't like repeating himself.

"I'm here, little brother," a calm voice called from behind Yura.

Hanako leaned back on her heels as she watched the older boy approach them. Hanako placed him at the delicate age of sixteen. The older male already had his chiseled jaw and deep voice, and now that he was dressed in only a grey shirt and pants, Hanako could see that he was much bulkier than the white haired boy. Straight brown hair reached just past his shoulders, but it was his eyes that made him different from his father. They were kind, and warm. They were deep pools of chocolate brown that held a glint of youth and optimism. Hanako barely knew him, but she felt safe in his presence.

The boy dubbed as 'Hashirama' knelt down next to Hanako and faced his brother.

"Forgive my brother's temper," he said to the women as he rested his large hand atop the snow-haired boy's head, "we are grateful to your village for tending to him so diligently."

Yura simply nodded in acknowledgement as she prepared the bandages, while Hanako believed that her presence had been forgotten. She remained silent, intent on listening to the interaction between Yura and the two brothers.

It was the white haired boy who broke the silence.

"Is father angry?"

Hashirama chuckled, "I think he is angrier at me than you, Tobirama,"

The boy now named 'Tobirama' scowled again, "Why? I was the one who failed,"

"I wasn't there to protect you," Hashirama interjected, "I'm sorry,"

As Yura removed the bandages from the boy's stomach, he crossed his arms over his chest, "You apologize too much, big brother,"

After another moment's pause, Yura had taken that opportunity to ask Hanako to escort Hashirama back to her father's cabin where Butsuma would be waiting for him. In truth, she wanted them to both leave due to the room being so small, and changing the boy's bandages would take some time and effort, as the wound needed to be cleaned and dressed with antiseptic. Stitches were not needed, it was only a gash. The ointment Yura had made for Tobirama's wound was believed to accelerate healing so one would be well enough to travel shortly.

As they walked side by side, Hashirama glanced down at the girl next to him.

"You're awfully quiet," he said casually.

Hanako paused and looked up at him, "You and your brother look nothing alike," she said in a matter-of-fact tone.

Hashirama simply laughed at her inquisitiveness.

"He takes after our mother more than any of us,"

It was true, Hashirama reminisced of his mother who was waiting for her boys to return home at the Senju village. She was known for her stark white hair and brilliant red eyes. She was arranged to marry Butsuma, they were very distant cousins, and they had a very different way of raising their sons. Hashirama's mother, Momoko Senju, was kind and gentle. She loved her sons dearly and was always chastised by Butsuma for coddling them and 'going too easy' on them. Butsuma on the other hand preferred a firm hand and a harsh approach, especially when it came to their training. When Hashirama reached thirteen, Butsuma entrusted his younger sibling's training to him, as he was the oldest sibling and had a duty to protect his brothers. That, and Butsuma was far too busy trying to run the mercenary Senju clan, especially since the Uchiha were fast mobilizing.

Hanako hummed gently, "is he always so grumpy?"

"Yep," Hashirama folded his arms and stared ahead, "He's only fourteen, but he thinks he's forty,"

Hanako chuckled at the anecdote as they approached the cabin. The booming voice of Butsuma Senju but their conversation short as the clan leader called his son over.

"I guess I'm being summoned," Hashirama sighed, "I'll see you later, Hanako was it?"

Hanako shuffled her feet shyly, "just Hana,"

oooooo

She stood at the edge of the village with her father, facing a pathway in the forest that lead directly through the dense foliage and was supposedly a straight path back to the Senju village. Hanako watched as Hashirama strapped his brother's katana to his own back and handed a pouch to the youngest of the three, Itama. Hanako didn't get to meet Itama properly, as he never left Butsuma's side. He seemed to be about Hanako's age, perhaps slightly younger. Tobirama wasn't able to carry a heavy load due to his injury, and so his brothers volunteered to bear most of his belongings. The white-haired boy protested, but it fell on deaf ears as Hashirama began stripping his younger brother of anything remotely heavy or awkward to carry.

"Safe journey, Lord Butsuma," Taiga bid the Senju clan leader and dipped his head respectfully.

"Thank you," Butsuma responded, "We have nothing but weapons to trade, but your village doesn't appear to need them,"

Yesterday, there was a brief haggle over compensation for the fishing village for tending to Tobirama's injury. Butsuma was above all a man of honor and his word, and so the clan leader insisted payment in some form. As the Senju Company had travelled light, they only had kunai and shuriken to offer to trade. No one in the fishing village needed such intricate and dangerous items, so Taiga simply waved off the treatment as an act of good will.

"I'm sure there will come a time when you can repay us," Taiga said curtly.

"Until then," Butsuma replied, "No Senju will bring harm towards you or your village,"

Taiga nodded, noting that the simple decree by Butsuma would be payment enough. As a defenseless settlement, they needed all the allies they could muster.

Off to the side, Hanako approached the three Senju brothers. In both hands she cradled a bundle wrapped in a handkerchief that she presented to Hashirama. She thought it would be appropriate to hand it to the oldest of the brothers.

"Some rice balls," she said softly, "for the journey,"

Hashirama took the bundle from her and sent her a wide, childlike grin, "Thank you!"

Next, she pulled out a tiny brown pouch from her yukata, and held it out to Tobirama. The boy looked at it questioningly, his bottom lip poking out in almost a pout.

"This is what's left of the ointment Grandma Yura made for your wound," Hanako explained, "it'll help if you're in pain,"

Tobirama stared at the pouch and took it gingerly. He remembered the stuff well. It stank of moss and earth, but it sure did help when the wound caused him grief. He was still bandaged, but he was well enough to move and was under strict instructions to not perform any strenuous exercises.

He let out an inaudible grumble of thanks, but was met with a nudge on his back from his older brother.

"Thank you," he said slightly louder, his voice dripping with irritation. He was always the grumpy one.

"It was a pleasure meeting you Hana," Hashirama interjected the awkward silence as his brothers turned to join their father and the remaining Senju shinobi. He dipped his head respectfully to her, making a small heat rise in her cheeks, in the last few days, no one had really treated her with such respect and kindness as Hashirama had. She was always ignored or pushed away, which was why she became such a reserved, quiet child.

"Until next time," he finished with a wave.

Hanako watched as the backs of the Senju Company disappeared into the thick forest. Glancing up at her father, she watched his hardened face stare off into the forest after them.

Little did she know, she will be seeing them again in the future.

oooooo

Here it is! The first chapter of my new fic! I hope I can get it to be as popular as my other fic! This is a slight AU story and it won't follow canon. The next chapter will be a time skip so think of this one as a prologue. I may eventually write 'bitten', but this was the winner by far as chosen by my readers. Thank you so much for taking the time to vote for the next story and I hope you all enjoy it!

R&R please!