Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto.

Misadventures of an Unwilling Soldier

All (not) Fun and Games

The next few days were spent on edge to the extent that my dad noticed and forced me to keep myself occupied with other things. One of which was buckling down and plowing through the basics of sealing.

To say that I was disappointed in my expectations about sealing…well, wouldn't be quite true, but the basics of sealing certainly were underwhelming, or, frustrating at the very least.

Case in point, my current exercise: looking at flashcards (originally made when my dad had tried to teach Kaa-san sealing basics) with squiggles that had no meaning to me and trying to guess what they meant.

The closest I can compare this to is having someone with no exposure to Middle Eastern languages trying to decipher Arabic. Apparently when it got to the more complex levels, sealing would incorporate rules a bit like those of computer coding, which I only knew the bare bones of. You needed good habits, in any case. So right then I was building my so called good habits.

A picture resembling a sun could mean anything from gravity to the actual sun. In a similar fashion, wavy lines could mean anything from hair to waves. I had to think outside the box and it hurt my brain, even though I seemed to be getting the hang of it. Somewhat.

While I was slaving away and honing my supposed Uzumaki instincts (which my dad insisted every Uzumaki had, though I wasn't sure I counted, considering my… unique situation) my dad himself was working on recreating the Uzumaki Bloodline Ability Revealer Seal.

I knew he was working hard on my behalf as well; nevertheless, my assignment still proved much more prevalent and frustrating to me, as I was stuck staring at the same card for over half an hour.

I glared at the symbol before me, as if it would tell me what it meant if I stared at it hard enough. Best I can describe it was three wavy lines intersecting and making a demented but roughly equilateral triangle encasing a dot at its center. Not a perfect dot though, I noticed as I peered so closely that my eyes crossed: it had the smallest tail, looking a bit like a comma. In fact, it looked almost like a tomoe. Like a sharingan tomoe.

"Any progress?" My dad asked me, as he was himself was stuck three-quarters of the way to finishing the seal, specifically on the cipher layer describing the biological attributes of the precise Uzumaki being tested. The main problem seemed to be that I was technically only half-Uzumaki, and my dad had only seen the seal used on full-blooded Uzumaki.

Scrunching my face, I answered, "A…sharingan inside a…cage?" Okay, it came out more as a question, but this 'thinking outside the box like an Uzumaki' was hard. Especially since my mind technically was quite a bit over three years old. I had the feeling the naivete of a child would have come in handy right about now.

At this, my dad looked up sharply. "…Close. Very close." He whispered. "But no, even Uzumaki haven't found a way to limit *doujutsu without actually taking their eyes."

[doujutsu: bloodline limit using eyes, but literally, eye technique]

I assumed that the last sentence was mostly spoken to himself, as my dad would usually never mention gory things like ripping out eyeballs in front of me. Briefly, a vision of an older Shisui flashed before my eyes, both eye sockets hollow while entrusting the Uchiha clan's and Konoha's future to Itachi.

Shaking my head and pushing morbid and maybe-won't-happen thoughts out of my mind, I focused back on the symbol encasing the single tomoe. This time I noticed that there was a tomoe at every intersection. So perhaps it wasn't trapping it…

"A sharingan…being explored?" I tried again, saying the words like I wasn't sure how they would taste on my tongue.

I wasn't disappointed, as my dad beamed and picked me up, swinging me around and eliciting involuntary squeals from me. "What did I do to deserve such a smart daughter like you?" In my previous life, wanting such tactile shows of affection from my parents after entering middle school was considered unseemly and immature. Or maybe I had just become embarrassed of being treated like a baby and distanced myself from them.

Either way, I had forgotten what it had felt like to be held by my parents until I'd been reborn. I felt a bit melancholy thinking of my previous parents and my relationship with them.

My dad's voce broke me from my thoughts. "So, Hime-sama, care to tell me the reasoning for your conclusion on this symbol?" before frowning to himself, and muttering, "Though it shouldn't even have been in there in the first place. I should look over the cards again…"

I could feel my chin wrinkle as I struggled to explain.

"Well…" I poked the tomoe, "that dot in the center. It reminded me of a tomoe in a sharingan." Spotting the beginnings of a big misunderstanding via my dad's darkening face, I hastily nipped it in the bud, "'Cause Shikkun drew it for me one time." Turning back to the symbol, I continued, "At first I thought these lines were caging the tomoe in. But then you said I was wrong so I thought harder and then saw more tomoes where the lines were crossing! So I thought the lines were… extending from them instead." I shrugged to finish off my halting explanation. "So maybe exploring might be what it means."

Propping me onto his hip, Dad pensively traced the wavy lines with a finger. "Yes, explore is one way to put it. While records of the sharingan are jealously guarded, some time ago, the Uchiha employed an Uzumaki because apparently each sharingan is slightly different, and they wanted to either improve where they were lacking, or specialize." Pressing his index finger onto the tomoe at the center, he continued, "We came up with two reasons why not all sharingan are created equal. One is simply the strength of the bloodline, which simply cannot be helped. The other is the body chemistry of chakra, which can be trained to a certain extent. For example, some people are better suited to illusions, while others lean toward physical jutsu. And even then, there are proclivities to taijutsu, ninjutsu, etc. It all depends on the user's intellect and more importantly, the balance of yin and yang chakra in their body…" he trailed off mid-sentence, looking a bit embarrassed at waxing poetic about a bloodline theory to me, his not-quite-three-year-old daughter.

My eyes were probably glossed over and void of understanding, as I had caught less than 50% of the precise vocabulary that came from his mouth, not to mention the speed with which he was talking. Obviously, I still needed to work on my Japanese. Clearing his throat, he scratched the back of his head and simplified, "Well, this is one of the symbols used in sealing to help discover – or like you said, explore – which areas of sharingan the user is more inclined to."

Understanding dawned as I got the gist of what my dad was saying. The question occurred to me whether the Mangekyou would heavily emphasize the user's predispositions or know to balance the user's abilities out. I would never know, as the Mangekyou was an Uchiha Clan secret, and very few people ever attained Mangekyou in the first place. At least, that was supposed to be the case.

"My hime-sama's really getting into the Uzumaki mindset! Daddy is so proud!" My dad ruffled my hair, which was in the awkward stage of being too long to comfortably let loose yet still too short to tie. But it was long enough for me to see that it was green as grass.

Ruefully patting my hair back into a semblance of order, I swore to myself that I would learn the henge before I entered the Academy if it was the last thing I did. Maybe I would change my hair color back to black, like it had been in my previous life. Or maybe red's like my dad's.

…

On the second to the last step of completing the Uzumaki Bloodline Ability Revealer Seal, my dad realized that he needed to know the coefficient of my healing rate. That required testing over time, and since he was horrified at the idea of cutting me several times to find out, he was stuck. Frustrated, he put the project on hold, deciding to put my sealing education first.

So he was holding out two pieces of paper to me. "Can you tell the difference?"

They looked the same. "Is there a difference?" I was confused. It could be a legitimate question, but it could just as likely be a trick question

Dad merely offered me the paper tags. Picking up one in each hand, I studied them closely. Frowning, I overlapped them and held them together, but they looked completely identical.

"Try focusing less on what it looks like, and more on feeling." He suggested.

Closing my eyes to convince myself I was focusing more, I poured my concentration into my hands.

It could have been simply an illusion, but I had the impression that the paper in my right hand was emanating a slight warmth. Opening my eyes, I frowned at the supposedly blank paper in my right hand.

Seeing a grin spread over my dad's face, I asked, "What is it?"

"Just a hand-warming tag."

I wrinkled my nose. A heat this weak could warm hands? "For when, summer?" I couldn't help but ask sarcastically.

At this, my dad laughed outright. "It's not activated yet. Does it feel like anything to you?"

"A bit warm." I answered truthfully.

"Ahah!" My dad suddenly exclaimed, taking the true blank tag from my fingers and hurriedly drawing a symbol on the blank tag. He tapped it once, and the ink he drew disappeared. He handed it back, peering at me excitedly. "How does this one feel?"

What was I supposed to say? It felt like plain rice paper to me. I rubbed the paper between my fingers, before a word popped up into mind. "Sticky?"

"That's right!" Wait, that bull I spouted was right? "It's a tag that sticks you to the ground!" Looking delighted, he took out another tag from his pouch. This one wasn't blank, but I was nowhere near progressed enough in my sealing studies to identify it.

I was at a loss for what to say. It gave off a somewhat sterile feeling, so I took another stab in the dark. "Clean?" I half asked.

"Yes indeed! It's a sterilization seal. What about this one?" This time, he pulled out a tag from the front pocket of his flak jacket. "Careful with this one," he warned as he handed it to me.

Holding it carefully, I looked at it doubtfully. "…Tickly. No, itchy."

Dad took the seal back, looking thoughtful. "You're not wrong. It's a smoke bomb." He ruffled my hair. "Looks like you have an knack for sensing seals. We'll have to train you to recognize them by feeling."

Whoopee.

…

I should have known that Shisui would keep a closer eye on me than usual after I had unloaded my problems to him via word vomit on the day Obito had left for his mission. About halfway through our stretches, he stated, "You're distracted."

I honestly don't quite remember what I said to Shisui, besides confessing that I didn't know what to do about Obito. I'm not even sure whether I'd mentioned the fact that I had a fair grasp of the possible future… but I was sure I'd maintained the presence of mind to refrain from spewing out that I'd be irrelevant and he'd be dead, living on only in the form of his eyes, one of which would be implanted in Danzo and the other in a crow.

What I did know for sure was that it had definitely been garbled beyond comprehension.

Deciding silence would be best for now, I didn't answer. After all, he hadn't actually asked me anything. Just said I was distracted.

Then he asked as a continuation, "Why?"

Gah. Guess even geniuses aren't exempt from saying the favorite word of all three year olds.

I gave the simplest and most neutral answer, "'M having trouble focusing." It also happened to be mostly true.

Shisui's round face was inscrutable. "Why?" That 'w' word again. I hoped fervently that this stage of childhood wouldn't last long for Shisui.

Seeing how I was taking too long to answer, Shisui prompted, "Is it 'cause of 'Bito-nii?"

I'd practiced raising an eyebrow for ages, but it still didn't work, so I settled with raising both as I stared at Shisui. "Aren't you gonna call him 'Bitossan'?"

Scoffing, Shisui replied, "I only do that to annoy him, thought you knew that."

I'd figured, but it was still surprising to hear Shisui refer to Obito like all the other kids normally did.

Shisui gave me the stink eye. "And dun think I'll be distracted so easily. You still didn't answer."

Unable to repress a sigh, I affirmed, "Yes. It's 'cause of Obito-nii." But I offered nothing else.

"Wh – "

"Finished stretching?" Kyouei's voice, thankfully interrupted the 'why' that had been halfway out of Shisui's mouth. Because honestly, now that I was in my right frame of mind, I just didn't know what to tell Shisui. Say I told him the unadulterated truth and he believed me – as he was three years old and still impressionable – what could we possibly do from there? For all intents and purposes, I was two (nearly three) and genius he may be, Shisui was still only three, without a sharingan, much less his mangekyou.

"Let's review the forms, and we start on the basics of iaido today."

At the word 'iaido', I perked up, temporarily lifted from all my troubling thoughts. Iaido was the broader term for iaijutsu, which was also a broader term for battoujutsu, which I was practically dying to learn.

Now, I had basically grown up on martial arts manga and movies, and Rurouni Kenshin had been a big part of my previous childhood. Long story short, I wanted to see if I could rip off the fighting style of a fictional character named Himura Kenshin.

With a grin I felt nearly splitting my face, I jumped with joy.

"Yeah! Battoujutsu! Finally!"

Leveling me with a stern look, Kyouei admonished, "There is more to iaido than battoujutsu."

"Yeah!" I agreed readily. "But even battoujustu can be used in so many ways!"

I saw Kyouei's lips twitch in amusement behind his teacher's façade.

Shisui grumbled, "I dun see what's so exciting about learning to draw and sheathe a sword…"

I turned up my nose at Shisui's ignorant comment. "It's an art, you heathen. You'll see someday when I use it to save your life on the battlefield."

While Shisui was still puzzling out what 'heathen' meant, Kyouei, on the other hand, lost all composure as he dissolved into poorly disguised laughter.

"…Yes…Midori…" He managed between chuckles. "…Is right…" He snorted one last time before straightening with some difficulty. "Iaido is a discipline that requires respect. If you choose to use kenjutsu on the field, iaido plays a big part in this style. Watch." Sheathed sword in hand, Kyouei turned to the row of straw bundles. In a smooth motion, he unsheathed the sword and slashed it across the first bundle, and re-sheathed the sword. The top half of the bundle fell at his feet.

Shisui and I looked on with slack jaws.

Favoring us with an amused look, Kyouei said, "Don't look too impressed. That was the slow version." Then, before I could even blink, the second bundle was rolling around in halves on the ground. Kyouei didn't look like he'd even moved.

Shisui's eyes were the size of dinner plates, his jaw almost unhinged, and I had little doubt that I wore a similar expression.

If the thought that unsheathing and sheathing a sword would ever be simple crossed my mind, it definitely didn't last long.

At least, not after I nearly cut my hand in half while attempting to unsheathe my sword for the fourth time.

From prior experience with kitchen knives and other injuries in my prior life, I knew that if I wanted the flesh to heal quickly, or at least mitigate the wound and stem the blood flow, the sliced flesh should be pinched together. If I didn't, I'd be in a whole new universe of pain in a few minutes. Unless Uzumaki somehow had monstrous pain tolerance. Which wouldn't surprise me, really. I guess this was a safe environment to find out whether the lion's share of Naruto's resilience came from his Uzumaki heritage or the Kyuubi. Though, in canon, he didn't really seem all that resilient. It was mostly fanfiction that buffed him up. Come to think on it, the only time I could remember Naruto's fast regeneration kicking in was when when he had lost control of the Kyuubi…

With almost morbid fascination, I watched as my flesh slowly opened up a line of blood, and then proceeded to bleed almost alarmingly quickly.

"Midori!"

I looked up at Kyouei's voice. "Kyouei-jisan." My voice sounded rather detached even to my own ears. "'M bleeding."

Kyouei first blinked, then became uncharacteristically panicked. "Uh, uhh… Right! That's enough for today!"

"But we barely started." I deadpanned, absently pinching my flesh together the best I could with my right hand.

"And you've sliced your hand open!" Shisui's father said rather hysterically. "Iaido with live blades!? What was I thinking!? No, I wasn't thinking at all! Akai-san is going to gut me!" He rushed out of the room, hopefully to get a bandaid. Or bandages, seeing how deep the cut was.

"Aah!? Micchan's bleeding?" Shisui demanded. "See, I knew iaido was no good!" He huffed, crossing his arms and glaring at blades now nestled safely in their sheaths, unable to hurt anybody, unless you counted blunt force trauma if you clubbed someone with them.

"'S my hand that got cut, not yours." I pointed out, the intended acerbity in my tone slightly overtaken by the faintness I was feeling.

"That makes it worse!" Shisui insisted.

"Well…" I chanced looking down at my wound and immediately regretted it. "It doesn't hurt too much…yet." I held back a wince, foreseeing the future of my wound, the burning sensation when alcohol would meet open flesh…

Kyouei came rushing back, hovering over me and fulfilling my prediction as he fairly dunked my hand into antiseptic. He then proceeded to nearly mummify my whole forearm afterward. Looking ruefully down at what looked like a vastly overdone bandage but slightly underdone cast, I consoled myself with the fact that it wasn't, at least, my dominant arm. Perhaps my mom would take me to the hospital. Or she'd be able to heal it herself, as she was pretty handy with iryojutsu*.

[*iryojutsu: medical skills]

As we trudged back to my home (Kyouei fretting every step of the way) Shisui whispered grumpily to me, "I druther learn your dad's kenjutsu style. It looks cooler."

"Thought you wanted to be like your dad?" As for me, despite the setback I had suffered that day, I still had my heart set on learning iaido. Perhaps even more so, as I was pig-headed about things that proved difficult to learn.

Shisui shrugged, muttering something about not having to be an exact copy of his dad. "What really matters is the heart." He said, crossing his arms and nodding sagely.

He did have a point, though I suspected that Shisui was just repeating something he had heard his father say.

Turns out, my dad was very calm as he unwound the bandages and examined my hand, absently pulling out a pen and notepad somewhere from his flak jacket. "Did you note the time of her injury?" He asked Kyouei.

Bewildered, Kyouei replied, "About twenty-five minutes ago…why?"

Jotting that down and sitting back, my dad proclaimed, "It's not that bad. From the looks of it, it seems like it's healed quite a bit." He informed Kyouei, who looked very close to having a nervous breakdown. "Us Uzumaki are quite hardy." My dad said cheerfully. "I wasn't sure whether Midori had inherited that part of the Uzumaki traits, but now I see I had nothing to worry about. I've also gotten some sample data I needed, so I think it worked out well in the end."

Inspecting my hand, I did notice that the cut had already started drying and scabbing beneath the bandages, nevermind the fact the wound hadn't been exposed to air. Well whaddya know.

Wanting Kyouei and Shisui to feel better as well, I waved my hand around vigorously. "Look, look, the cut's a lot smaller! It doesn't hurt much anymore!"

Kyouei looked curiously down at my hand. "I see. So is this the famed Uzumaki resilience and longevity?"

Tossing the used bandages in the laundry to be washed, my dad straightened. "Well, it's not technically longevity, per se. From what I know, people have a set cell regeneration count, and it's just that we Uzumaki's numbers are generally higher, and speedier when it detects a wound. If our bodies detect a wound, the fast production kicks in. Longevity is just a side effect of not getting wounded much, I guess. There are probably some other complexities to it, but I'm not a healer, so I'm not sure." My dad said sheepishly. "I'll ask Tsunade-nee-san if I see her."

Unwittingly, I squawked, "Nee-san?" Dad was close enough to Tsunade to call her nee-san?

My dad ruffled my hair, which I swear he knew I hated by now, as evidenced by his cheeky grin.

"Well, not my real sister, but she's a distant cousin. Her grandmother, the late Mito-sama, was an Uzumaki too. I'll introduce her to you if I ever get a chance."

That was the last thing I wanted. Sure, Tsunade was awesome, but she was one of the principal characters. All the same, I couldn't say that to my dad's face, so I just laughed nervously. "Aheh. Can't wait." The one thing that comforted me was that there was a good chance she'd already left Konoha "for good" to wander around. I couldn't remember the exact dates.

…

Days, then weeks, passed at a snail's pace, with me slugging through flash cards and unactivated tags, practicing more complex calligraphy, and repeatedly sheathing and unsheathing the wooden sword.

I was playing the bounce-juggling game with Shisui once more, but instead of three tennis-sized rubber balls, we'd graduated to six marble-sized rubber balls, requiring an immense amount of concentration from my almost-three-year-old self.

Until there was a sudden outcry.

"Obito's what?!"

My heart froze and I missed the next few balls, and they bounced away from me. Mine wasn't the only head that turned to the Uchiha matron.

Shisui too, abandoned our game as he rushed over to Emi-obasan.

"What's wrong? What happened to 'Bito-nii?!"

There was a clamor as the children bombarded the matron with questions all at once.

Hastily shooing the Uchiha teen who had presumably told her the news out the door, Emi-obasan looked tearfully at us and said with an obviously watery voice forcing calm, "Don't worry, children. He's just asleep for a bit. He'll wake up soon."

It was clear that the matron was sugar coating for the kids' sake, though I couldn't tell to what extent. From her vague statements, I couldn't even tell whether Obito was dead or alive.

"When can we go visit him, then?" I finally mustered up my courage and asked. It would be best to act like I assumed he was alive. After all, little children should believe what adults said.

Swallowing thickly, Emi-obasan replied, "I'm not sure that would be a good idea." Stonewalled by another vague comment.

"No!" This time, another kid protested loudly. "We wanna go see 'Bito-nii!" The clamor started up once more, until Emi-obasan sternly ordered us to settle down and go back to playing our games.

Even though we'd lost half the marble-sized balls we'd started with, Shisui and I sat against a wall, in no mood to go crawling around in search for them. I still didn't even know if Obito was really alive.

"Hey, Micchan."

"Nn?" I grunted back, too depressed to speak properly.

"How did you know this would happen?"

I stiffened my face muscles barely in time to keep my face from collapsing. "Just had a bad feelin'." Maybe he would buy it. Depending on the things I told him when I'd had my breakdown. Shisui nodded in acceptance.

Apparently I had overthought things; he was, after all, a three-year-old kid and not yet a ninja trained to analyze and draw conjectures from every single word uttered in his presence.

Drawing my knees under my chin, I mumbled, "I wanna see Obito-nii. I wanna know if he's really back."

"Me too." Agreed Shisui. After a somber silence, he perked up. "Hey! I got an idea!"

…

"Is this really gonna work?" I asked Shisui in a whisper. It was a rhetorical question, as I was 90% sure it would not.

"Shh!" He hushed me.

We had gone from kid to kid inside the Uchiha playpen to ask for their cooperation, in exchange for Shisui's snacks and a promise of his dad's (apparently very famous) cookies in the future. In other words, we'd bribed them to raise a ruckus to distract Emi-obasan, so Shisui and I had a chance to escape from the playpen.

Looking at the tall (from my nearly three year old vantage point, at least) fence, I felt an ocean of doubt. Sure, it probably wouldn't be too difficult to go over the fence itself. The problem was Emi-obasan's observation skills and that beyond the fence, there were other Uchiha who would definitely notice the presence of two toddlers.

"I'll go over first, so I can pull you up." Shisui muttered to me, using a hand to shield his lips from being read, I supposed. "Wait until she's distracted. Keep your position here."

Very purposefully, a jenga tower toppled over, triggering harsh criticism from several players and a child's loud (crocodile) tears, in turn resulting in loud protests and complaints from surrounding children, in turn provoking a fight, setting off babies' screaming and bawling. When a harried Emi-obasan hurried over to break up the fight, Shisui used my back to spring over the fence.

I grit my teeth and tried not to lock my still fragile limbs as his full weight was on my back for one brief moment. He was heavy. Barely taking time to recover from being stepped on, I staggered to my feet and jumped to reach the top of the fence. I managed to grab the top, but for one heart-stopping moment, the fence wobbled in protest to the sudden extra pressure of my weight, combined with the velocity at which I'd jumped.

The moment passed and Shisui grabbed my other hand to help me go clamber over the fence.

Afterward, we snuck out of the house and crept under a bush (which was very uncomfortable).

"Step one, success!" Shisui seemed excited.

I, on the other hand, didn't know whether I should be glad we were lucky, or disappointed and a bit scared of how easy it was to distract the matron who was in charge of taking care of children, all of whom (excepting me) had the potential to awaken very valuable eyes.

Deciding that worrying about one thing at a time was more than enough, I turned my thoughts to the next, near impossible step: getting out of the Uchiha district safely.

"You know the way out of the Uchiha district, right?" Shisui asked me, as he probably didn't. As a child and a Uchiha, Shisui didn't have much reason to go out of the district unless it was to visit me, and he didn't do that much, as I was the one frequenting the Uchiha playpen.

If it were me from my previous life, the chances of successfully remembering the route would have been a 50/50. Before, my sense of direction had not been the best. Unless the sun was obviously in a certain location at a time that was obviously not noon, I could never tell one cardinal direction from another. However, my observation skills weren't that bad, and the way I remembered directions was to landmark things. Of course, I would've had to have traveled there (while paying attention) at least once.

As my current world did not have cars, I was either carried, or more recently, led by the hand by my kaa-san.

Which was why I could nod to Shisui's question.

So I crept out from under the bushes to lead the way out of the Uchiha district, though I had no idea how we would find the hospital once we got out.

Though there were surprisingly few people – I had never witnessed the Uchiha district's streets during work hours – Shisui and I still hid as often as possible, ducking behind various items large enough to hide a toddler or two. Admittedly, there weren't many things big enough to completely cover two toddlers, and at one point, Shisui got so separated from me that I couldn't see him anymore.

"Shikkun? Shikkun!" Where had he gone? Where was he? Glancing around at all the neatly manicured bushes – cursing the Uchiha and their damn penchant for shrubbery, heaven knows why, weren't most of their elemental affinities fire? – I felt my headache shoot up along with mounting panic as I wondered how I could possibly look for him without getting captured and taken back to .

A lady glanced in my direction, and I clammed up. She approached me, and a part of me registered that she looked familiar, but the other part of me dismissed that all Uchiha looked somewhat similar; besides, I was too busy trying not to freak out.

"Are you lost?" She asked me, her voice a combination of kindness and impatience. Definitely not a mother, this one.

"I…" If I said no, she wouldn't believe me… But if I said yes, she would drop me off at the nearest playpen –

A ridiculously simple idea struck me. What if I just told her the truth?

Looking up at her through my bangs, I answered, "'M looking for Shikkun."

Brow wrinkling, she repeated, "Shikkun?"

Oh, she wouldn't know Shisui by my nickname for him. "Shisui. Uchiha Shisui." I clarified.

Her expression cleared, and her confusion for my presence seemed to disappear. "Ah. Are you Akai-san's daughter? Your hair…I should have recognized you."

It took a bit of effort to ignore her aborted comment about my hair; once again, I wished that my green hair didn't stick out like a sore thumb.

"I'm Mikoto, friends with your aunt, Kushina. We must have seen each other at Shisui-kun's house."

Oh. I inwardly drooped. She was Mikoto. In this big district, that I would bump into a character high on my list to avoid? I had no choice with Kushina, but Uchiha Mikoto… What were the odds?!

"'M Uzumaki Midori." I introduced myself, on the miniscule chance Kushina hadn't already told her.

"Nice to meet you again, Midori-chan. Now, let's look for Shisui-kun." Even as I nodded vigorously, she was already glancing around. "Hold my hand so you don't get lost, Midori-chan." I struggled to keep up with her strides. After a few steps, she relaxed in what I assumed was relief. "You can come out, Shisui-kun."

I assumed she'd found him, but Shisui didn't answer or come out. What was he waiting for?

Mikoto showed her annoyance by placing her free hand on her hip. "If you don't come out now, I will go straight to your father, Shisui."

Immediately I heard a rustle from behind and Shisui came out from a bush I'd apparently missed in my panic, wearing a mulish face expression. "He won't punish me even if you tell."

Mikoto raised an elegant eyebrow. "Oh?"

Shisui jutted his lower lip out. "Me 'n Micchan are going to see 'Bito-nii." He glared at Mikoto a bit. "Dad woulda app- appro…liked us visiting him."

At the mention of Obito, Mikoto's face changed slightly. "Your dad would most likely have taken you if you'd waited and asked. But you escaped the daycare and went wandering out on your own."

"I wasn't alone! Micchan's with me!" Shisui argued.

"That makes it worse!" Mikoto snapped. "You're older than her and should be the responsible one." At this, I winced internally. Ouch… "Instead, you dragged Midori into trouble with you! And you weren't even together when I found you. Midori was by herself panicking!"

As I was mentally 19 years old (technically 21, if I added the years since my rebirth), this did not reflect well of my sense of responsibility. Sure, it would have been acceptable for a normal two year old to act like that, and I had mostly been panicking because I knew the limitations of my two year old body, but…

Mikoto's scolding Shisui made me feel thoroughly ashamed of myself.

"We're sorry." I burst out.

Shisui looked scandalized. "No I'm no– "

Stomping on Shisui's foot, I repeated, "We're very sorry, Mikoto-nee-san. We were just worried about Obito-nii."

Shisui clearly disagreed with my emphatic apology, giving me an obviously unhappy look that could not have gone unnoticed by Mikoto. I wouldn't have been surprised if she dumped us back at the Uchiha playpen right then and there.

But she sighed and swept her bangs back, as if going through a weary inner conflict. "You do realize I should tell your parents about this, right?"

I hid a grimace; it would be the first time in my new life I would get scolded for something I had deliberately done, against my better judgement. But I deserved it. "I understand."

But Mikoto wasn't finished talking. "But I won't." I looked up, thinking for a moment I had misunderstood what she'd said. Sighing, she continued, "I was on my way to the hospital as well, and I've wasted too much time already… I guess I'll just take you along."

Before we could react, she picked the two of us up by our waists, and we dangled helplessly at her sides. "You two are heavier than you look."

Then we briefly rushed through what felt like a whirlwind and stopped at Konoha General Hospital. I looked over at Shisui hanging at Mikoto's other side, looking windswept, but awed.

"Whoa!" He exclaimed. "What was that, Mikoto-bassan?"

Eyebrow furrowing (most likely at being addressed as a disrespectful version of "auntie") Mikoto replied nonetheless, "Shunshin." before abruptly releasing her hold on Shisui's waist, causing him to drop to the ground with an 'oof'. She lowered me much more gently, which I was grateful for.

Rubbing his stomach area resentfully, Shisui asked Mikoto, "Whachu here for anyway? You don't seem sick."

Mikoto ignored him and led us into hospital. I couldn't recognize the kanji on the hospital signs yet, so I had to blindly follow her as she led us to a quiet but tense section of the hospital. It seemed like the intensive care unit. I felt a mixture of dread and hope come over me.

Was Obito really alive?

Mikoto paused to talk to a nurse, who peeked down at us and frowned. "Children aren't allowed in this ward." As Mikoto turned to give her a supposedly stern look, the nurse suddenly froze before deciding to ignore us completely. "Oh, you came alone?" She started leading us down a hallway, presumably to a room.

All the while, I was puzzling over that weird interaction between the nurse and Mikoto. I didn't think my Japanese was that bad, but maybe I was wrong. It wouldn't be the first time.

Then realization dawned on me. I nudged Shisui. He turned quietly, as if knowing subconsciously that I wanted our next conversation done fully in silence. I jerked my head at Mikoto and motioned toward my eyes, and gave him a questioning look. The following look and nod he gave me in return were confirmation.

Mikoto had used her sharingan on the nurse.

Was that a bit excessive for the sake of two kids? Probably. Especially since she barely knew me, and didn't seem all that fond of Shisui. Though that may just be how they normally interacted.

But I couldn't stop the spark of hope that had been kindling in my heart: that Obito was alive, and perhaps Mikoto had come to visit him as well. I had no idea about her precise relationship with Obito, but it was as likely as any other theory I had; it wasn't like I knew what Mikoto was at the hospital for.

With every step we took, I felt my heart thumping louder and louder in my chest, until we finally stopped at a door. My pool of knowledge in Kanji characters may not have been very wide at that point, but I knew my hiragana and katakana*: the name on the door read 'Uchiha Obito'.

[*hiragana and katakana are the basic Japanese alphabetical systems]

Dismissing the nurse with a nod, Mikoto turned the doorknob, before looking back at Shisui and me and hesitating.

"Let me take a look first, okay?" She said almost compassionately, before shutting the door in our faces. Mikoto was either kind but bad at interacting with kids, or just very poorly two-faced.

It didn't take long before she opened the door again, her face maybe more pale than before. Before she could say anything, Shisui eagerly forced his way in. "'Bitos…san…" He trailed off in horror.

Shoot. The mentally youngest of us had barged in without any preparation whatsoever. Even I wasn't prepared for what was in there.

I looked fearfully up at Mikoto, who now wore a regretful expression as she led me in. "I was going to say, don't be surprised by how he looks."

Mikoto nudged me encouragingly toward the figure lying on the bed. "Go on. He's still Obito. He's probably awake now, since Shisui made all that noise."

I approached the bedside slowly. It was more frightening in real life than in the manga, seeing the bandages wrapped around his body. What was worse were all the clip-like objects fastened down on the bed around his torso, holding him together.

"Obito…nii?"

Later, I would think back upon all the details I had ignored, like how his right side still looked relatively intact, aside from his missing arm. How his left eye socket looked hollow. How his hair was slightly longer.

But right then, I was overcome by misery and what-ifs. Would things have gone differently if I'd told Minato? If I'd given Obito more details? If I'd…

"Why…are you crying, Midori-hime?"

Obito's voice sounded hoarse, as if he hadn't spoken in a while.

I swiped my tears away. "Why didn't you believe me?"

Obito managed a painful looking half grin. "I did. But I couldn't…leave a teammate…behind." My eyes started to fill with tears again; damn this childish body… "I asked Minato-sensei… to put a tracking seal on me, just in case…" He laughed weakly before wincing in pain. "That really saved my life… thought I would be stuck in that cave with – " He aborted what he was going to say mid-sentence and switched topics. "Well, I've awakened my sharingan now… so I'll bounce back stronger than before." He reached out with his one free limb – his left hand – and wiped my tears, albeit clumsily. "So thank you."

It took tremendous effort to hold further tears back. Why was he thanking me?

"'Bitossan…" Shisui finally asked quietly. "You ok?"

"Hey, cut it out with the old man routine already." Obito groaned.

Shisui seemed to perk up at this familiar reaction. "You are the same 'Bitossan!"

"Of course I am!" Obito tried to look annoyed, but his grimace gave away just how much pain he was in.

Frowning, Shisui asked in the blunt way only kids could get away with, "Wha'z with your eye?"

The charged atmosphere I felt radiating from Mikoto made it clear, then and there, that her business at the hospital was about Obito's missing left eye as well. Whether she knew the whole story or had just heard rumors… I didn't know.

After a moment, Obito answered, "My teammate hurt his eye, so after I activated my sharingan, I gave him mine."

At this proclamation, I saw Mikoto clench her fists and a foreboding feeling came over me.

Horrified, Shisui exclaimed, "But didn't it hurt? You won't be able to see out of that eye forever, right?"

"Some sacrifices are worth making." Smiling Obito told him gently. "Besides, Kakashi is a genius, so he'll put my eye to good use! And we'll be able to work together better now." he coninued in a brighter tone.

Finally, Mikoto intervened with a hard voice. "Alright. You've seen Obito. We need to talk about shinobi matters, so you go wait outside for me to take you home."

Shisui and I found ourselves pushed out the door. We couldn't have been standing outside for more than five minutes, but to my childish body, it felt like an eternity.

I distracted myself by thinking about what Obito had said. He'd let slip something about a cave, so unless things had gone completely differently due to my intervention, he'd have met –

I faintly heard Mikoto raise her voice. "Gave- Kashi- shar-gan… what- thinking–" Obito's answer was too quiet to hear, but his answer provoked another harsh response from Mikoto. "-what do I- tell Father- elders- expel- clan–"

At this, I couldn't stop a sharp intake of breath. "Obito-nii might get expelled from the…" Kishimoto had never covered the Uchiha clan's reaction to Obito's willful gift to Kakashi.

Shisui crossed his arms stubbornly. "I'll get dad to stop them. 'Bito-nii shouldn't be punished. He should be hailed as a hero!"

Though I agreed aloud, I wasn't so sure Kyouei had enough power or influence within the Uchiha clan especially since he'd given up the clan head position so cavalierly.

A while later, Mikoto exited the room exuding a calm that belied the raised voice I'd heard from behind the closed door.

I felt a bit sick. I had known with my mind what Obito had sacrificed for Kakashi, but what must it have felt like, having your eye removed from your skull? What had been running through Obito's mind, as Rin had tearfully performed the surgery? What must it have felt like to wake up after having faced death gladly for your teammate?

Wordlessly, the three of us returned to the Uchiha daycare, and Shisui and I were fussed over by Emi-obasan. Mikoto covered for us, saying on our behalf that we were at a curious age, telling the matron it was a good thing that we'd come back safe and sound. I knew I would owe Mikoto for that, though I'd decided that I didn't really care.

I had other things to worry about, like the huge ugly butterfly I'd managed to grind into pieces.

…

Turns out that my parents would find out anyway, since Mikoto had gone ahead and told Shisui's dad, who'd told mine. Shisui sulked miserably for the whole day at the reaming out that Kyouei had given him.

But my dad was a baka-oya.

"My hime managed to escape from the playpen? She's a genius! You're so talented Midori-hime!"

Being complimented for a misdeed was almost worse than being scolded for it, and I endured nearly half an hour of dad's senseless babbling before he'd given me a tap – not even a slap, but a tap – on the wrist.

"It's ok to tell a grown up what you want to do next time. Odds are, they'll be willing to help."

A month and a half had passed before Shisui and I were able to visit Obito again. Finally, his condition was stable enough to be moved to a ward that allowed children, so Shisui begged his father to take him to visit every day.

I didn't want to face the consequences of my impulsive and half-baked actions, so I had mixed feelings when my parents assumed that I wanted to visit him as well and took turns with Kyouei to walk us to the hospital every other day.

Obito welcomed us with as good humor as he possibly could, stuck in bed as he was.

On one occasion when Kyouei was our chaperone, Obito burst out as if he couldn't take it anymore, "Do you think it's a waste too, Kyouei-jisan? That I gave my sharingan to Kakashi? If so, just say it!"

Shisui and I looked at each other uneasily. It wasn't often we'd seen Obito lose his temper. I'd known that Obito was hot-headed, but that was mostly around Kakashi, not little kids like us.

From his sitting position in the chair, Kyouei said calmly, "What you do with your own eyes is none of my business. From what I've heard, it was the best decision at the time."

Clenching his single fist, Obito growled, "You don't have to stay neutral. Tell me how you really feel, Jisan."

Sighing, Kyouei stood up and walked over to Obito's bed. "I think what you did was admirable." He looked Obito in the eye. "That's how I truly feel."

At Kyouei's words, I saw Obito's eyes tear up a bit.

"…Cousin Mikoto said there'd be a bunch of elders that want to expel me from the clan…is it true?"

Kyouei was silent for a moment, before saying carefully, "There is a faction of elders that have mentioned that, yes. But The majority of the clan either opposes it or are neutral."

Shisui finally put in his two cents. "Tou-chan will do everything he can to keep you in the clan, right, Tou-chan?"

Huffing a bit, Kyouei placed a hand on Shisui's head. "'Course I will, sport." I thought his smile looked a bit sad, though.

…

On May 20th, I turned three. It was the first time my dad would celebrate my birthday with me, and the first time Obito would not. Obito was laying in a hospital bed, immobile.

Instead, Minato had brought his two other students, perhaps trying to make up for Obito's absence. The only thing I felt was further pressure, as if I were being squeezed from all directions. I wondered if I should just become a hermit after I became old enough. But I'd already made changes, what was to say it would be any better if I isolated myself?

I tried not to think about it, and was successful for the most part, as there were other people and presents to distract me.

Shisui and his dad got me practice shuriken and kunai. I handled them cautiously before I saw that they were merely weighted with dulled edges. Kushina and Minato gave me a set of brushes, as my original ones were now a bit small and worn.

Rin gave me something that looked like potted daisies, which Shisui wrinkled his nose at from behind Rin's back.

"Thank you very much…" I said slowly, privately thinking that daisies didn't really need to be potted, and wondering where on earth she got the idea that that of all plants, I would want flowers, and of all flowers, I would want daisies. My favorite flower, if I had to choose, would be calla lilies. And the only plants I'd water faithfully were plants used for cooking, like chives, sesame leaves, or vegetables.

As if reading my mind, Rin explained, "It's called anacetum parthenium, commonly known as Feverfew. You show signs of headaches every so often, and I thought it would help. You can brew tea, or even chew on the flowers or leaves in a pinch."

I was somewhat surprised that someone noticed my headaches. Was I that obvious? Rin smiled and whispered, "I'm a medic-nin, remember? I'm trained to recognize people trying to hide their health problems."

Well, that put the issue to bed quite neatly, though I wondered whether all medics had that same ability.

As for Minato's other student…after the Kannabi bridge incident, Kakashi had undergone a change in attitude. After all, thinking your teammate had died for your sake due to your carelessness was bound to shock you into shape. Unfortunately, it didn't make him any less annoying.

"What would you do if I said I didn't bring a present, Onion-brat?" Kakashi stared flatly at me with a single eye.

I chirped with false cheer, "I'd be relieved!"

"Kakashi. Even if it wasn't Midori-chan's birthday, it's not acceptable to call her names." Minato sternly chastised.

Meeting my glare with a calm gaze, Kakashi amended, "Fine. Onion-chan." Afterward, he turned back to me and said, "That's too bad, since I did bring a present, but at least I'll know not to bring a present if I come next time." He held out a small, unwrapped box.

Tilted past my boiling point, I was seething. I snatched the box from his hand, managing to resist my dearest desire to crush it underfoot – I probably didn't have the strength anyway. I ignored the itchy feeling in the back of my mind, and trembling, not with anticipation, but with anger, I opened it.

Only to be engulfed in a cloud of smoke.

I knew I should've stomped on that box!

Minato and Rin exclaimed disapprovingly, "Kakashi!"

Waving the smoke away, I coughed and spluttered, "You…you trapped the box!?"

Crossing his arms, Kakashi said calmly, "My present is a lesson on caution. No ninja worth his kunai opens boxes blindly."

Shooting Kakashi a death glare (though the effect may or may have been reduced by my watery eyes), I gingerly picked up the book on traps that had been unsealed and ground out a, "Thank. You."

"Mm." Kakashi answered nonchalantly.

Shisui, who'd kept his distance because he hadn't met Kakashi before, finally stepped forward. "That was mean. I dunno why 'Bito-nii gave his eye to you. You're mean."

Everybody froze. Minato was the first to recover and speak, "Shisui-kun didn't mean that, Kakashi."

Flicking his single eye back at his teacher, Kakashi rebutted, "Children at that age don't say things they don't mean."

Shisui huffed angrily at Minato, "Yeah! I meant it!" before Kyouei hastily picked him up and shushed him.

Kyouei apologized, "I'm sorry, Kakashi-kun, Minato-san. My son is too young to know the circumstances."

Kakashi shook his head, "No, your son is correct. I don't deserve this eye." He turned and was shortly gone, reducing the party to an awkward silence.

Rin exited shortly afterward, making her excuses, probably to go after Kakashi and make sure he didn't do anything stupid. She knew better than to try and comfort him.

My dad came through for me, boosting the mood up again by loudly presenting me a book on making and breaking codes. He gave me a knowing wink, as I clutched it with barely concealed excitement. I didn't have to struggle through making a whole new language anymore! Shisui looked excited too, hovering over my shoulder as I flipped through the pages. Dad had gone through the book, marking the kanji he correctly predicted I wouldn't be able to read. Thanks to his edits, I could understand about 80% of it.

The physically biggest present was saved for last.

Kaa-chan slid over a relatively flat box the size of my torso wrapped in green wrapping paper. Curious, I peeled it open and saw a backpack full with school supplies.

"Congratulations! You're enrolled in the Academy, and you'll start with Shisui-kun this summer quarter!" Kaa-san said with a smile on her face.

"Yes!" Shisui, of course, felt no qualms about displaying his excitement. "Micchan's going to the Academy!"

Kyouei smiled down at me. "Shisui was waiting for you to turn three so you two could go to the Academy together."

I felt an odd sensation well up in me. I couldn't quite tell what it was; it felt like regret mixed with nostalgia, perhaps a bit of panic. Quashing the feeling with tremendous effort, I pasted a grin onto my face and saluted Shisui. "I'll trust you to watch my back, Shikkun."

Shisui grinned ear to ear and saluted back in response.

Now if only I could learn the henge technique to change my hair color before school started…

A/N: It seems that Self Inserts are more psychologically self reflective than I realized. =.=;;

It is a happy coincidence that I like calla lilies, since they symbolize 'rebirth'.