Chapter 1

There's nothing poetic about how she's reborn. In fact, she's not entirely sure she has been reborn. Regardless, she doesn't come to her senses freshly birthed, nor is it a gradual march towards enlightenment.

Instead, it's in the throes of unlocking her chakra at the tender age of three that everything falls together in a pitch perfect jigsaw puzzle, and the thought of 'I've lived before' comes along like a lazy wave against the shore, as if it were always supposed to be there.

It's not true. Or, at the very least, she doesn't think it is. But there are memories of a life she has lived and it's like waking from a dream that had been so close, so tantalisingly real that she still remains disoriented now, three hours later.

Her name is Sōkōma. She is one of four children, soon to be five. She is the only girl. So far.

She has also been reborn into the world of Naruto. This takes her all of six hours to work out, in which the coincidences build up until she can no longer ignore it. While her eldest brother is nothing memorable to look at, her twin most certainly is. White hair, red eyes. The whole unlocking chakra thing was a rather heavy-handed hint, but the final nail the coffin had been watching her Tou-san practice his katas and then, his jutsu.

.

From there, it's hazy terror. To the point Kaa-san carries her unresponsive self to bed.

Sōkōma lays on the flat mat that acts as her mattress and stares up at the wooden rafters of the ceiling. Her fingers, tiny, pudgy things that they are, are laced together and resting over his midriff. Her legs, short and stubby, are laid straight, toes not quite pointed but not far off either.

Sōkōma is three years old when she realises her chances of becoming another statistic in the Clan Wars Era is a very real, tangible possibility.

She lays beneath the heavy spring covers, allows them to smother all of her worries and fears as she experiences the first existence crisis of her life.

.

The next day, Sōkōma wakes up and gets to work.

The twins have always been a little… strange. No, perhaps that is being too unkind. But they are, different. Unlike Hashirama. His eldest had always been a particularly loud baby, quick to vocalise, quick to cry or laugh or form an emotion of anything in between. Compared to their elder brother, the twins are… subdued.

Tobirama, the eldest of them, with his heavy gaze and what Butsuma would hazard a guess to be a quick wit, is swift to pick things up. Already his vocabulary is level with Hashirama, for all that he follows the boy with a natural ease. His eldest is a leader, that much is clear (that much is something to be celebrated; there's always the fear that the heir won't have the charisma, won't have that affinity for leadership; so far, that doesn't seem to be the case.

Then, there's Sōkōma, the younger twin. For fraternal twins, they're remarkably alike in appearance; same white hair, same red eyes. Same cool disposition and sharp mind. Yesterday, yesterday he had peered in on his only daughter, right after Rimone took her to bed.

It hadn't been the first time that Sōkōma had joined her siblings to watch his training, but it had certainly been the first time she'd ever shown such an… unusual emotional outburst. He's not privy to what she'd been thinking, not when she hadn't confined in Rimone, as she usually did whenever she'd been emotionally affected. Seeing her staring blankly up at the ceiling had been, discomforting and he'd resolved to speak to her on the matter in the morning if things were still, off.

.

Yet, his daughter has come down the stairs no worse for wear this morning, cheerfully greeting both himself and Rimone, refusing to even so much as acknowledge whatever had set her off kilter yesterday.

For that, Butsuma is thankful. Given the Uchiha in the East and the Hyūga in the West, he has enough on his plate already.

Human memory is a strange thing.

Kawarama first. Then it's Itama. Kawarama – cause of death, unknown. He's seven. Itama – cornered by Uchihas.

Hashirama becomes clan head. Tobirama strikes Izuna down. Hashirama offers up his life in return.

Peace.

She can recall from the other set of memories a lot of things. Some helpful, some useless. Some are about memory itself. She can remember studying psychology, can remember learning about short term memory, long term memory. She can remember that certain stimulants can prompt memory recall, can remember that the first and last item on a list are the easiest to recall after time has passed.

She can remember that memories not recalled and used are often forgotten.

Kawarama first. Then it's Itama. Kawarama – cause of death, unknown. He's seven. Itama – cornered by Uchihas.

Hashirama becomes clan head. Tobirama strikes Izuna down. Hashirama offers up his life in return.

Peace.

It's funny how, at three years old, she's already heavily reliant on her memory, banking on the thoughts and feelings that came from the hallucination of another life. When a person recalls a memory for the second time, it's theorised that they're not recalling the original memory but the first time they thought of the memory. Through this, memories can become tainted, piece of information become suggestible to change as the mind works to fill in the blanks with what it would expect to see.

And yet, can she not remember the mass of words that constitute as her vocabulary? Can she not recall basic mathematical processes with ease? So, what sets these memories apart from the rest?

Use. Repetition.

Kawarama first. Then it's Itama. Kawarama – cause of death, unknown. He's seven. Itama – cornered by Uchihas.

Hashirama becomes clan head. Tobirama strikes Izuna down. Hashirama offers up his life in return.

Peace.

There is little more information that will be of any use to her immediate family, not from a book that was set a hundred or so years in the future. She has precious little to go on, to inform her of what date befalls her younger brothers. The elders, well, there's brief ideas of what will happen to them but, as they both see adulthood, Sokoma will set them on the back burner for now. It is Itama (two-toned hair and soft smile on a chubby face) and Kawarama (wisps of brown hair and a baby's piercing cry) who need her most.

That is to say her entire presence will not already effect the future. There had, after all, been no Senju sister. Yet, here she is.

Briefly, the thought had crossed her mind that Hashirama had never spoken of her as she'd died young, too young for him to really recall.

But no one's memory is poor enough to forget a sibling, not one who has been in your life for three years. Not without serious cognitive issues.

Kawarama first. Then it's Itama. Kawarama – cause of death, unknown. He's seven. Itama – cornered by Uchihas.

Hashirama becomes clan head. Tobirama strikes Izuna down. Hashirama offers up his life in return.

Peace.

It is not just the foundations of her brothers' futures that she is attempting to recall. There are other things as well.

Uchihas. Curse of Hatred. The upgraded Sharingan from emotional duress. Madara, who would see Tobirama dead for his future actions. Izuna, bitter and still exhaling hate even with his last breath.

Zetsu.

It would be a fruitless endeavour to try recalling every intricate detail, to try memorising all these little facts when her presence will have created untold ripples. So, she focuses on the main events, focuses on the key pieces that are too big for one child to change, no matter how close she is to the main figureheads, the ones who will lead the world into a new era. An era of peace.

Peace, peace, peace. It rings in her head, the temple bell, the wall drums, the thunder of a heartbeat.

Peace.

The other memories had never known war. This body, all of three years old, has never known peace.

Kawarama first. Then it's Itama. Kawarama – cause of death, unknown. He's seven. Itama – cornered by Uchihas.

Hashirama becomes clan head. Tobirama strikes Izuna down. Hashirama offers up his life in return.

Peace.

Uchihas. Curse of Hatred. The upgraded Sharingan from emotional duress. Madara, who would see Tobirama dead for his future actions. Izuna, bitter and still exhaling hate even with his last breath.

Zetsu.

Methodical repetition is key. Five times a morning. Five times a night. She will not forget.

She cannot afford to.

.

"Sōkō-chan? Are you ready?"

Senju Hashirama cannot be the imposing man she once read about, he is but four years old, will be five in October. It would be ludicrous to expect something awe inspiring from him at his current age. Nonetheless, Sōkōma had been expecting something a little more... noteworthy. Still, he's a child with the puppy-fat limbs, endless good-cheer and adorable little face to prove it. He looks at her, at Tobirama and Itama, as if they are his entire world. It's endlessly flattering and makes him all the more loveable. It would impossible to dislike him, even if Sōkōma were inclined to try.

Taking the last of her rice ball, Sōkōma pushes it between her lips and then turns on her mother, lips pressing into a pout as imploring as she can make it. The woman's watches her for a moment, considers her face, before she reaches out and pinches one of her cheeks.

"Widen your eyes a little and try to get them to tear a bit," her mother instructs, running the pad of her thumb along the tender flesh beneath Sōkōma's eye, "and that expression will get you anything you ask of your brothers."

"Kaa-chan!" Hashirama interrupts, throwing both his arms over Sōkōma's shoulders and she nearly staggers with the extra weight he presents. "Don't teach Sōkō-chan that! I'll give her anything she wants without any manic-manipul-"

"Manipulation?" Sōkōma offers, forcing a smile onto her face as both Hashirama and her mother turn to look at her, one surprised and the other curiously suspicious. The expression lasts a mere moment before her mother's features smooth over, the hand that had been cupping Sōkōma's cheek transferring to the buttery soft strands of her white hair.

"Go and practice with your brother, Sōkō-tan. Hopefully that cold will not keep Tobi-tan in bed for the rest of the day."

Hashirama has already turned her to the kitchen door before Mother is even halfway through her muses on Tobirama's ailment. With near two years separating them, Hashirama is both bigger and stronger, his arms a heavy weight around her shoulders as he guides (muscles) her out of the house.

.

If one were to discount the sounds of jutsus being practiced, the forms leaping across rooftops to report in mission success (or worse, the loss on a treasured comrade), then the Senju compound could pass as a peaceful place. Certainly, it is the closest to peace that Sōkōma will witness for some time (may be the only peace she will witness). Removed from the discussion of war with their neighbouring clans as they are (rightly so, given their young age), it almost, almost, distracts Sōkōma from the seriousness of her situation. But not quite.

She is painfully aware of her own mortality; of the liabilities this child body possesses. She is terrifyingly aware that her brothers have the same crippling weaknesses and can only thank the heavens that Tou-san is the Clan Head, that he won't send them out until they have an inkling of a chance.

Sōkōma follows after Hashirama as he leads her down the little path to the training grounds. They have one that resides a mere thirty second walk from the back of their home, a perk of being the clan leader, so she assumes. It makes sense; as the Clan Head, Tou-san will be strapped for time but, with the current climate between the clans as it is, he needs time to train to. Making the grounds at which to do so easily accessible makes complete sense. It also allows him to easily train his heir, spare, and other children. Sōkōma falls into the category of other. She intends to keep it that way. Hashirama is the heir, Tobirama the spare. They lived before; all she has to do is ensure she is not a weakness of theirs that can be exploited.

"Sōkō-chan," Hashirama calls with a smile, pulling her attention back to him on this open field, the flat landscape broken only by the occasional training log. Easier for the guards to see and take note of their position, she supposed.

Her brother stands with his legs bent at the knees, his heels rooted to the earth and arms stretching wide, imitating a tree. A stretch, one this body has done every day since she turned two. A baby's supple flexibility was not something that any ninja could afford to lose so they started training young. Sōkōma can see the advantages of it. The near militarian approach to readying new soldiers had been refined to an art form and it makes her sick to the stomach.

"Sōkō-chan, copy me," Hashirama coaxes again. She observes his stance, adjusts her footing until her feet are spaced an equal distance to that what exists between her shoulders. She squats to the same extent Hashirama has, extending her arms, palms upwards. Hashirama begins the song, one about a tree setting down roots, growing tall and strong, each branch twisting to reveal smaller ones, until the trunk can boast a thousand hands. Sōkōma dutifully repeats each line in the gap Hashirama leaves for her, mind whirling all the while.

The song itself, though relatively simple, is clearly a doctrine of the Senju Clan, expressing their beliefs of learning new crafts, of dedicating oneself to their interests and chasing them, refining multiple techniques to further one's self. It is all about personal growth and how that can aid the trunk, how it can aid the clan.

Nowhere in the words is there an allusion towards the branches that get snapped clean off, sheared away before they could become something magnificent.

How would this tree look during peacetime? How mighty an oak could it grow to become?

"-and the leaves fall down," Hashirama chimes, Sōkōma dutifully repeating him as they both lay their torso's flat against the thighs, fingers reaching far past her toes.

"-to decompose and fuel the next."

"-to decompose and fuel the next." Curl into a ball, then slowly rise to stand. Stretched complete.

Blowing back a bang that's just an inch short of being tied back, Sōkōma turns her full focus back to Hashirama, arms loose by her sides.

"What now, Nii-san?"

"Tou-san says no sparring without him- Pr-"bably a wise decision, given neither of them are yet solid in their foundational taijutsu and leaning the wrong form would mean unlearning and learning again. "-so we can work on our speed, stamina and chakra!"

"Okay, Nii-san."

.

Hashirama decides that first, they will race back and forth between the training logs. The benefits for their young bodies are clear; muscle memory with running, building stamina and encouraging the muscles the grow with the focus of speed in mind. Knowing the reason does not make the burning in her legs upon the thirtieth race any easier to bear.

Teeth clenched, Sōkōma pushes forwards again a mantra of 'Itama-Kawarama-Tobirama-Hashirama' fuelling her shaking figure. Her brothers will be talented, the best of their generation or dead. Her constant efforts here may make all the difference.

She still flops to the floor upon tapping the worn wood for the thirtieth time.

"Sōkō-chan! Are you okay?!" There's genuine worry in Hashirama's voice, the metaphorical dark clouds spiralling around his head. She observes his face for a moment before allowing a grin to slip along hers.

"You have big kid legs, Nii-san. I am still small. Please let me rest a moment before we continue."

And just like that, he's laughing again, all bright sunshine and with a thick innocence that Sōkōma knows means he's never seen the battlefield. She knows the same aura surrounds her, cushions Tobirama and Itama. Sōkōma basks in it, vows to do so for as long as she can. She will need the constant reminder of what she is protecting.

Kawarama. Itama. Tobirama. Hashirama.

Her brothers.

.

Tou-san appears when Sōkōma has three leaves stuck to her face, one on each cheek and one in the centre of her forehead. Hashirama-nii is working hard to climb the side of their house with his feet and chakra alone, managing to get about halfway up before he ends up propelling himself off. Despite the whole spectator to Tou-san's training she'd had going on the night before, it's still hypnotising to see the 'ninja tricks' in action. The thought that she will be able to perform such feats in her own lifetime is exciting; that's not something she can lie about.

The thought of why she will need to be able to perform these techniques is terrifying.

For a moment, Tou-san observes Hashirama's progress, giving a slow, approving nod before he begins to make his way over to her. Sōkōma straightens her spine from deep buried instinct. Tou-san is in his armour, the worn red familiar on his shoulders.

"Tou-san? Do you have a mission?" She cuts the chakra flowing to her feet, rising to her feet as the leaves flutter to the floor. Normally, it's Kaa-chan that trains them but, in her final month of pregnancy, she's not capable of it at the moment. Tou-san has taken over as best he can, what with how busy he is.

"I have enough time to correct your forms. Now, show me."

.

Each form she runs through, Tou-san finds something to correct, from a minuscule angle to horrendously incorrect footing that makes it easy to push her over. In this, the mindset of these people is made ever clearer; there's no time for soft words, for gentle 'you'll get it when you get it' comments. They're at war and the more prepared a child, the better their chances. Every single correction is a pinprick under her skin but Sōkōma grits her teeth and gets on with it anyway. Now is not the time to lament on her own failings; it's a habit she's going to have to grow out of if she wants to make the best of her time here, if she wants to maximise her efforts.

Adjusting her mindset to recognise that Tou-san pointing out mistake isn't a personal failure but, instead, an opening enemies won't hesitate to take advantage of is easier said that done though.

She's not sure how long Tou-san stays to go through the motions with her. Only that he's summoned away when the rest of his team arrives, a battle-scarred teenager with maroon eyes and a man slightly older than Tou-san himself, with the same shock white hair that could indicate he's a cousin of some form.

Both she and Hashirama wish their father well, wish him a safe return from his mission and he goes after acknowledging them with a slow dip of his head.

Her muscles are aching, a dull, throbbing pain that radiates down each limb, across her torso and midriff. She hasn't been pressed too far. Then again, the Senju undoubtedly have it down to a fine art of exactly how far they can push a child; having to wait for overstrained muscles to recover would undoubtedly impact training time. She's never heard of a time that the Senju were at peace; the clan have had all the time in the world to refine their training schedules.

"Sōkō-chan," Hashirama starts, hunching over, hands planted on his knees to grin at her. It's nice, having a big brother. Hashirama obviously adores her and Tobirama and Itama (it makes the thought of the future ever so scary). "Let's go see if Kaa-chan has any errands she needs us to run, okay?"

.

As it turns out, Kaa-chan does indeed have errands for them to run. At three years old, she's apparently of age to be running errands within the clan compound, though the first few will be completed alongside Hashirama. It's a push for independence, to remove the adult from the operation but leave someone who does know what they're doing nearby. It's textbook cognitive manipulation; Sōkōma will have no issue coming to see the other Senju around her as people she can trust while running these small errands, will come to recognise the people she will one day be fighting alongside.

The Senju compound itself resides within a forest clearing, large, curved walls surrounding their home and sectioning them off from the rest of the world. Perhaps that's where the inspiration for Konoha's walls come from in the future. They're close friends with the Uzumaki, aren't they? So, they will no doubt be loaded up with all sorts of defensive seals. Barrier ones, perhaps.

There're a few trees dotted around the compound itself, mainly along the outskirts, between houses and walls. There's even a little forest off to one side, where Sōkōma can see older children pitching a tent. Practice for use in the outside world, perhaps?

"What do we need, Sōkō-chan?" Hashirama asks, swinging their adjoined hands back and forth as they walk the dirt path. He waves to a woman that's tending to a vegetable garden, loudly offering her a good morning. They've not had lunch yet, have they? So, not a lot of time could have passed by. It's weird, not having access to a clock at all times, having no phone or wristwatch. She can only go by the position of the sun and it's not exactly something she's learnt to read the time from yet. Nevermind the fact that such a thing will change with the seasons.

"Carrots, beef, onions, garlic," Sōkōma chants back, pacing each word the exact same way that their Kaa-chan had when reciting the list to her, "and potatoes."

"Well done, Sōkō-chan!" Wiggling his arm (and hers as a result), Hashirama tows her down the street to their left, filled with little stalls and produce. He starts pointing to them, naming each in turn. "That's Kiyumi-san, she's the blacksmith. Mio-san is the one we go to for fish, she gets a new delivery from the coast every Friday. It's because of the Uzumaki Clan's storage scrolls that they're always so fresh when they get here."

They're both women. A female blacksmith and a female fishmonger.

Little brows scrunching over her nose, Sōkōma trots dutifully after her brother, taking note of the clear muscle tone that each of the women boast of on their arms. She can't be sure if it's just for the sake of keeping physically fit, or if it's because they know how to fight. A question for later, maybe. She hadn't even questioned the fact she's being training to fight despite the fact she's a girl but now, the more she looks around this like play at a market street, the more she notices that most of the stalls are run by women.

Hashirama heads for the greengrocers. It's the bottom portion of what Sōkōma assumes is a house, given the way the woman (another one) in charge runs her offspring up the stairs, a boy, just a little older than her.

"Sōkō-chan, this is Senju Chisa. Say hello!" Hashirama has let go of her hand now to better place her before him, both hands planted on her shoulders. Like he's expecting her to bolt or shyly attempt to hide herself behind him.

"Hello, Chisa-san." She shouldn't address her by Senju-san, should she? Pretty much everyone here is a Senju anyway, aren't they?

Senju Chisa turns to address the two of them and Sōkōma sucks in her bottom lip, doing her best not to stare. Chisa has a large burn scar stretching across the left-hand side of her face; it's devoured the flesh around her eye, leaving a milky iris, and stretched back along the side of her skull. There doesn't seem to be any hair growth there; the wound doesn't look fresh either, a few years old, maybe.

"Hashirama-sama. And Sōkōma-hime, it's nice to meet you." She bows and, oh, yeah, Clan Head's kid. "Is this your first errand?"

Sōkōma nods, determined to keep her face serious but her gaze polite. Does she look at just the one eye, or does she try to meet both?

"Yes, Chisa-san. Can we have some carrots, onions, potatoes and… garlic, please?"

The woman smiles, looking as if she would very much like to reach over and ruffle her hair. Sōkōma hopes she doesn't; her hair falls blissfully straight in this body and she'd carefully combed it through this morning to avoid any tangles.

"Of course you can, Sōkōma-hime. You have such a dutiful big brother, helping you out on your first errand."

Hashirama laughs, rubbing at the back of her neck and finally releasing his hold on her shoulders. Sōkōma rolls them, lets what little tension has built up bleed out.

"Vegetables can be heavy," Sōkōma agrees, "and Nii-san has been training longer than me."

.

Soon enough, they're walking out of the Senju equivalent of a greengrocers, Hashirama with the paper bag full of produce and both of them holding a peach. Sōkōma bites into the fruit, lets the juices run down the corners of her mouth before she licks up the sweet tang.

"Don't you have any questions about Chisa-san, Sōkō-chan?" She has a lot. So far, what she's been able to deduce is that Chisa san was caught in a fire jutsu of some kind. She doesn't appear discomforted by being in the Senju compound so that implies the attack didn't happen here. She also doesn't appear to be ashamed of the deformity to her face, which implies she's not too bothered about how it impacts her physical appearance. That leads Sōkōma to her first hypothesis.

"Was Chisa-san a ninja?"

"Yes! She was! You're so clever, Sōkōma-chan!" She gets the big-brotherly hair ruffle, condemning her to a few minutes with the comb once she gets back. Sōkōma bears it though, smiling at the genuine pride that Hashirama all but glows with. You'd think he was the one teaching her with how wide he's grinning.

"If Chisa-san could be a ninja as a girl, then why are there so many women running the market?"

Not that she hadn't been expecting it. That'd been how things worked in the world her memories had come from, hadn't it? The men had become knights or warriors in the olden days, and the women had lived at home and done all the child-rearing and other duties.

"You're a girl, Sōkō-chan, so you have a choice," Hashirama explains slowly, chewing thoughtfully on his peach. He's got peach juices all around his lips, a little chunk stuck to his cheek. It's cute. "Everyone trains until they can defend themselves well, but girls get to have a choice because that's where babies come from. Chisa-san decided she wanted to be a ninja, and that's fine. But other girls decide the want to look after home and be the last line of defence. They also teach kids like us too!"

Huh. That makes a startling amount of sense. Obviously, training everybody is a wise idea. Women are the ones who get pregnant so it makes sense for them to be the ones who have a choice of if they wish to remain on the home front, rearing children and keeping everything moving, or out there, doing the ninja stuff.

"Like Kaa-chan," Sōkōma declares, looking to Hashirama for answers. Sōkōma is a twin and she's sure twins take a lot of looking after. Then, there's not even two years between them and Itama. Now, with the last baby due, if Kaa-chan is a ninja, she's been off active duty for a while.

"Yes, exactly like Kaa-chan! Kaa-chan was an amazing ninja. When she and Tou-san married, they had me and Kaa-chan went out on missions again before she found out she was having you and Tobi-kun! And now there's Itama-tan and a new baby too! Once she's had the baby, she'll probably be training us again until she can go back to missions." Huh. That's, that's cool. At least she won't be fighting her clan as well in her desire to become a ninja on the same level as her formidable brothers.

.

The butcher's shop is run by one Takahara Toshi, a man from the Land of Whirlpools who'd fallen in love with a Senju kunoichi and returned to the clan to be with her. He's a joyous man, happily giving her a bigger slab of beef than they need simply because it's her first errand. It's a good sign, it means that, as a clan, they've got an over abundance of food if they're willing to give that little extra away, like extra beef or two free peaches.

Sōkōma carries the beef; the large package feels cool in her grasp and will be placed in a chilled storage scroll once they return home. Unless Kaa-chan plans to cook it for tonight's meal, that is.

"You've done really well on your first errand, Sōkō-chan!"

"Thank you, Nii-san, but I wouldn't have managed it without you." Not without two journeys. She's incapable of carrying both the beef and the bag of vegetables at the same time; too much mass for her tiny hands to grab hold off unless she were to fashion herself her own backpack.

"You're very welcome, imouto."

.

Both she and Hashirama help Kaa-chan with dinner in their own way. As the eldest, Hashirama is trusted to use the knives to cut the vegetables, not quite with the clumsiness one would expect of a four-year-old child, but certainly not with the enviable grace of a shinobi. With Hashirama helping Kaa-chan, that leaves Sōkōma to care for both Itama-tan and Tobi-kun.

Her youngest brother is easy; he's already been fed and is now fast asleep in his make-shift crib in the living room. His two-toned hair is even more obvious against the dark green of his blankets. Her twin, however, is a different matter entirely.

He's sitting on the cushions by the table, a small cut of cloth pressed to his ever-leaking nose, a healthy flush to his cheeks that only makes the thick beads of sweat on his brow that much more noticeable.

"Tobi-kun? How are you feeling?" Her answer is a deep sniffle, Tobirama's pupil-less red eyes sliding over to stare at her. Enviable of her non-cold, feverless state. She does feel sorry for him; being sick sucks enough as an adult, but as a child when they're supposed to be out playing (well, doing training that's disguised as playing), it must be horrible.

"Bad," he finally replies, the sound half-swallowed by the cloth pressing his face, eyes rimmed red and she doesn't envy him. Not in the slightest. Instead, Sōkōma shuffles herself about until she's sitting behind Tobi, her arms wrapped around his middle and her tiny, toddler legs on either side of him.

"Get well soon, Tobi-kun." Even with the hug, she tries to stay away from his hands and face. Don't want to be catching whatever that is, after all.

.

They eat. The absence of Tou-san isn't strange or out of place in any way; it's far from the only meal he's been on a mission for. Hashirama eagerly finishes what Tobirama doesn't, the younger of the two citing a lack of appetite. He's quick to fall asleep on the cushions, little wheezy breaths unnaturally loud in the room, near drowning out Itama's own.

Kaa-chan has Sōkōma sit on the floor before her own cushion, a comb in hand and she runs it through her hair, working out the Hashirama-manufactured tangles. She sits perfectly still throughout it all, watching her eldest brother begin working through his letters and numbers, laid on his belly with the brush balanced between his fingers.

"You have such pretty hair, Sōkō-tan."

"I have your hair, Kaa-chan." Kaa-chan laughs, clever fingers working their way through the shoulder length strands, twisting it back and forth into what might be a plait but could just as easily be an updo. Sōkōma's own fingers are terribly uncoordinated at the moment. In the memories, she'd been able to twist her hair back into a duo of even French plaits without the need of a mirror; she plans to attain that skill before her twenties this time.

"Make sure you train extra hard, Sōkō-tan. Then you can keep your hair nice and long, like your Kaa-chan."

"Okay, Kaa-chan." She was planning on training extra hard anyway. Having long hair would be detrimental on the battlefield, at least until she was strong enough that it would be more of a boast, a challenge. 'I have long hair and you can't use that against me'. Maybe that's what Hashirama and Madara had going on when they were adults. Perhaps it's a little big-headed to think she can get to that level.

.

Sōkōma kinda hopes she gets there anyway.

It's been a while since I've started anything that isn't relatively small chapters or big on the whole thought thing (or, at least, I think so). I guess there's gonna be a bit more philosophy stuff in this one, thoughts of what is and isn't right.

For Sōkōma's base knowledge, I'm going with whatever hazy things I can recall of psychology and philosophy. So, if something's wrong, well, there's an example of poor memory recall in action (an you can expect the SI to remember everything/get it all right, right?)
Additionally, Sōkōma will eventually be on the same power level as Tobirama. I'm tired of those OC fics that limit the character to not being as powerful as the big players because they'd seem like a Mary-Sue. So what? Girls and OCs can be strong too and we should say it 💪

I'm feeling pretty up on my high horse at the moment; this is what quarantine does to you, baby.

Hope you're all safe and well,

Tsume
xxx