notes: wassa schedule lol

summary: suiren gets ass whooped by senpai for being rude but only because of the ever looming uchiha-village divide. Mostly spurred by danzo. She also accidently almost kills 26 children with killing intent but narrowly escapes punishment due to a mix of hokage influence and Tsunade dismissing her psych-eval (Tsunade recognises she's a lil fucked up – lost everything and all).

the thing around your neck. it's squeezing tight.

Days at school passes irregularly after the incident. Well, Sensei keeps a slightly closer eye on her during taijutsu classes, but he stops commenting on Suiren's Uchiha-style katas mixing in with the Academy style. Maybe it's the political power struggle swallowing Konoha up into its endless mouth, maybe he's given up on her, or maybe Sensei just a shitty apathetic teacher. Either way, his perpetual frown tells her, 'Yamaguchi-sensei has bigger problems to worry about'.

Her classmates are the children of a brutal military dictatorship, but everyday life for them and the town people carry on as usual. (Except here is the thing about military dictatorships: it's never stable.) Sometimes the civilian kids stare at her for a moment too long. Suiren knows this isn't out of curiosity of the unknown—it's fear. There's an ugly scribble on the bottom of one of the cubicle doors in the girl's bathroom. You wouldn't notice it, unless you've got the height of a six-year-old.

But on the other hand, the clan kids seem to have accepted Suiren as one of their own.

"Yeah, you're cool now," one of the Inuzuka boys gruffly nods when Suiren gives him a dubious once over at the suggestion of being partners for a history project. Suiren supposes she shouldn't really care because it's so immature and shallow—the only things she should care about are maintaining her ever declining finances, writing reminders for the supermarket sales and how she's going to afford that super wow Famous Water Country Assassinations book Hidesato introduced her to— but some superficial part of Suiren likes it. She likes this feeling: acceptance. It's strange, an adult in a kid's body should be above these childish infatuations and group mentalities, but she isn't.

And Hidesato notices everything.

The months spin faster and faster through the remainder of the year. Suiren passes the end of year exam on shinobi theory, mathematics, science, history and literature with praiseworthy marks. She sits at dinner with Fugaku, Mikoto, Itachi and Sasuke on New Year's Eve and Fugaku announces for Itachi that he is going to join ANBU. Mikoto breaks into a shining smile. Sasuke gazes at Itachi adoringly. Suiren chokes on her rice. And then Mikoto smooths Sasuke's hair and informs Suiren that Sasuke is going to join the Academy this year. And Suiren feels like she might be drowning.

Everyone is moving up through the ages with Suiren as they should be, but she feels-knows this is too sudden, like there's been some horrible mistake and time needsto stop so she can catch her breath.

But time doesn't stop. The months spin faster and faster.

Sasuke manages to make a real name for himself in the schoolyard on the first day of grade one. Suiren almost can't believe the group of kids swarming around him with the grace of young girls. It's the end of the school and everyone's ready to go home—everyone, but that familiar little blond boy staring at Sasuke and the group of kids, with hair like sunshine and eyes like stars blinking vividly against the darkness. Her infamous neighbour. Naruto - planting water balloons over doorways and flipping open signs of shops to closed - Uzumaki. The one with ANBU surveillance 24/7. The loneliest boy on the planet. Except for Sasuke, Suiren remembers, then frowns. No not Sasuke, because Sasuke has a wholesome, adoring family. Sasuke isn't lonely—Sasuke is all bright smiles and soft-spoken, stranger-shy mumbles, waiting to set people's hearts alight.

"Wow your relative is very popular," Hidesato stops by on his way out of school.

"He's not my relative," she directs a glare at him. Hidesato just grins.

"Are you leaving?"

"I'm walking him home." The Uchiha compound lies on the outskirts of the village, but this is something important to her. Hidesato nods and waves goodbye as he trots off. Ah there's someone walking in the opposite direction of Hidesato, towards her. It's Itachi, Suiren blinks with a jolt, and smiles a tiny little thing. She hasn't seen him for months.

"You're waiting for Sasuke?" Itachi asks, and Suiren notices how much taller than her he's grown, how much older.

"Yep. How's ANBU going?"

"Fine," Itachi replies, always a taciturn. He looks at Suiren with red-tinged eyes, face weary from the ages of time, blood, murder, poison and adolescence too young too soon. Growing up does that to people—blowing a layer of dust over the surface and transforming ordinary kids into strangers. The Sharingan does the same thing too. "Have you been taking Sasuke home?"

"I sure have-"

"Nii-san!" They both turn to see Sasuke dashing towards them. He bursts face first into Itachi's embrace. Suiren feels something inside of her get crushed along with that hug.

"Ready to leave?" Itachi smiles. Sasuke beams back. Ah- but slyly, he reaches for her hand.

"Can we go get some melonpan first?" He casts those huge black eyes upon her– ugh her heart tremors. Itachi's immune though.

"Okaa-san's already making dinner, and it's getting late Sasuke."

"Oh…" But then Itachi takes Sasuke hand and suddenly everything is alright. Suiren hurriedly trots behind them in the direction of the Uchiha compound. She hopes she's not intruding on their moment together, but the path home is soft. The setting sun filters its heavy red glow on the village and everything gains this warm-tinted edge. Suiren thinks this must be one of the few happiest moments they've ever had, so she wants to have a share of this moment. How pathetic.

The trio arrives at the gate and the guard checks them in. Itachi pauses, and he says to Sasuke, "I'll be just a moment. You know the way home, don't you?" As Sasuke nods a yes, Itachi turns back to face her again. Suiren inadvertently straightens her back. Wow this is like a job interview.

When he doesn't speak for a solid minute. Suiren hesitates, "It's getting dark, I should probably leave."

"I'll walk you home."

She blinks. "Oh okay, sure."

They fall into tandem after a moment. Her apartment looms. The frown on her face lasts this whole trip and she mulls over this bizarre scenario. But truthfully, she knows what to do. So, the young girl draws a deep breath and asks, "is everything alright?"

Itachi stops at the stairway leading to her door. "No." The air grows heavy. "I remember a few years ago, you told me there are 'more ways than one' to accomplish a task."

Oh, she remembers sharply, it's that.

"How…" And he walks back towards her, the shadow of his figure steadily grow bigger, and bigger, and bigger. "Did you know?"

She blinks. "What do you mean?"

"Hyōzan-san, stop acting. You had your suspicions something was happening with the Clan long before the actual issue even surfaced."

He's only ten, she tells herself over and over. He's only ten, and I'm older and cleverer and more mature and you didn't fuck up. You didn't fuck anything up.

So:

"You know why Itachi-san."

He tilts his head. He's being vague on purpose. This is fine. This is fine. At least he knows he isn't alone in this great big melting mess of a feud between the Clan and the village. She is in it too. No, she is a victim of the feud as well as him. Look at them both: one is forced to go too far beyond his age and the other has dared to go too far beyond her age.

"Itachi-san, let's stop lying to each other. You've read the same books as me. You've been in the same school as me, heck even the same house, same family, same clan, same village- so we both know the history of the Clan and its nature. And we're both clever- you know that. As if I wouldn't notice, you know? And we both know that ever since the Kyuubi massacre, the Clan would get blamed for it all. And Naruto, of course. But, well, politically? It would all 'be' the Clan's fault." Come on, don't make this difficult please. "So tell me, what's been happening? What-" Her voice drops to a murmur. "What are the elders saying?"

Itachi's expression is a cool, blank stare. How difficult can one ten-year-old boy be to read? "It would be best if you don't get involved in Clan affairs."

Oh, boy… When did this great gap grow between them? They used to see each other on a weekly basis, yet somewhere between the death of both her parents, and the Academy, and the Uchiha crisis, and his chuuninship, and then his ANBU recruitment, she had begun using '-san' for Itachi and he stopped caring.

"But what if," he murmurs back, and it's as low as the vaguely glowing sun hanging over the Hokage Mountain. "You don't have a choice?"

"That's alright," Suiren replies too quickly, too loudly. "You," and she crunches this word around the cavern of her mouth, her heart. "You can do whatever it is that needs to be done, because… I'll fix it." Yeah, that sounds good. "I'll fix everything, so don't worry."

He doesn't say anything for a long while. Suiren thinks this must be the first time they've ever had a proper conversation.

A stray cat breaks the silence by slipping from an alleyway to rub up against his leg.

"Just please continue to look after Sasuke."

Oh Itachi: ever the diplomatic, secretive, elusive genius. Even in his final moments he's a lying, lying mess.

"Heh, do you even need to ask?" She scoffs and kicks at the ground, managing a sad waver of her mouth. What's going to happen in the future? Will Itachi really die? How much longer will she be around for? How much longer does she have to live for? Will she have to choose her own death again? – All these questions without answers, how much longer can she be the girl who knows everything?

Seemingly satisfied with her misdirection (wow she must be a really good liar in this life), Itachi turns to leave. Suiren watches him walk away, and gets a foreboding shiver that it's a bad omen to do so. So of course, right before Itachi disappears beyond the civilian district, he turns back to face her, and gives her a chillingly pointed look:

"By the way Suiren, you knew long before the Kyuubi Incident though."

The rest of grade two passes like a dream. It's without all the theatrical murder threats, the reeling shock of strange bills and Neji's awful right hook, but with an added bonus of the power struggle's heightening tensions—present in Mikoto's reluctance to invite Suiren over more frequently. This is a symphony reaching the end.

A few civilian kids realise the ninja world isn't as glamorous as the chuunin propaganda officers made it out to be, so they wisely choose to drop out and go about a normal life. On the whole however, there's little to differentiate each year by. Suiren falls into a routine admirable by ANBU shinobi: wake up, get dressed, make her own breakfast, lunch and dinner, go to school, get beat on Thursdays by Neji, come home, eat dinner or go to Mikoto-san's house on Fridays (now with a decreasing frequency), practice taijutsu for three hours, revise ninjutsu theories and seals, update her finances, catch up on several novels she's started but never finished, brush her teeth, change into her pyjamas, and fall asleep when she can see the moon high outside her balcony—rinse and repeat.

In her second year, most of her class progress towards chakra control without a hitch. This is the earliest introductions to shinobi technique and theory, mostly for the benefit of the civilian students though, since everyone else can do this in their sleep. She laughs at someone's massive fuck up of an attempt at sticking a leaf onto their forehead. That girl sneers at her. "Like to see you try."

Suiren doesn't play nice. When she smugly picks a leaf off the ground, carefully places it in her palm, the girl's face drops. And Suiren feels the familiar rising surge of her chakra blooming from her chest to the palm of her hand as she breathes in—she's chakra-meditated so many times it's practically second nature to rouse the energy inside her, so getting a leaf to stick shouldn't be so hard. Or so she thinks.

The leaf is still there when Suiren opens her palm, along with a bolt of blinding red-hot agony beyond compare wracking her whole body. Her palm burns like her skin has melted off her bone.

"Hah," she whimpers, barely attempting a smug smile. Her vision crumples towards a black ending. She felt oddly faint and oddly dreary, swaying slightly on her feet, as the volcanic pain fades into a throb up her arm. She opens her hand to see the leaf crumple into ashes in the wind. Oh shit, she thought. Shit.

The other girl gapes. Suiren faintly smiles again, like nothing's wrong. "If you tell anyone, I will hunt you down."

This afternoon holds all the slow, drooling heat of summer in its palm, where strange street cats lie in the cool shade of cement doorways for once. In other words, Suiren can finally reach her awkwardly positioned apartment without stumbling over one cat or another, basking in the sun. Warning: cats are real sensitive souls.

But the air is tight with something more than heat. It's the anticipation of rain and thunder and lightning. Suiren hesitates before her front door. A jagged line of red, broken capillaries on her forearm dizzies her. She grazes her clammy fingers along the wound.

Like Lichtenberg scars, Suiren fumbles around her pockets for the house key. Should probably get this checked out, but she clenches and unclenches her fist and everything is fine. It barely hurts anymore; there's nothing but a thinly inflamed network of vein-like structures on the surface of her skin. But that's fixable, she's got a nice aloe vera plant on the balcony.

It's just… her chakra burned her. This is the first time she's ever applied chakra to foreign objects and it burned her.

"There is something wrong with me," but Suiren keeps these thoughts to herself. Who can she trust here? How will she know this isn't a hallmark of something greater?

And it doesn't happen again.

In the summer of her seventh year, a boy with dots for eyebrows joins third grade. Hidesato jokes "it's like on/off buttons haha" and doesn't say much else, but Suiren just can't seem to lose that sinister prickle telling her, 'Kimimaro's bad news'. Tenten also transfers into their class from grade two and she remarks her parents has gently warned her to 'stay the hell away from him'. She couldn't care less what Tenten's parents have to say because Suiren's no longer the top ranking kunoichi. She held that position for two goddamn years and then went and lost it to a six-year-old. On purpose, though? Maybe.

The years may spin faster and faster as they weave monotonously in this dreamscape but Suiren knows things are changing. She can taste in the air. But maybe it's only her. Maybe it's only her trapped in this never-ending dream. There are too many things she thought for long time would just remain that way for a long time, but they all ended up false, one way or another.

The bone-white boy's a bit of a lone wolf anyway—no one really wants to talk to him outside of schoolwork. He's got a funny accent not from any of these streets ("Far east I believe, Land of Water, maybe," Hidesato whispers once, when they walked past him). It's a hollow sound, like Kimimaro's echoing words from an absurdist play, like he finds the language hard to believe, yet he has to say something. There is a real disquiet about that, but Suiren spies him reading the same books she owns (Revelations of Dead Souls, The Seen and Unseen, From the Eastern Wind and The Voice of the Valley), during breaks on the benches near the chrysanthemum bushes. So, despite her deep-seated feelings, Suiren surmises he can't be all that strange. He's also ridiculously good at taijutsu- like, so good he could be out in the field already. Probably could've sparred Neji to the ground if he hadn't withdrawn, and if an unfamiliar chuunin hadn't delivered a mysterious message to Yamaguchi-sense from the Hokage. Suiren wishes she hadn't pretended to be sick to skip the taijutsu exam that day. She's waited two years to see Neji get beat.

But Kimimaro is taken out of taijutsu classes immediately after that.

"Anything on after school today?" Hidesato asks in Maths class third week back.

"No." Suiren never does.

"Wanna come to that bookstore place? Y'know, the one all the normal kids are going for tutoring. My father said that a famous author, the one visiting the village, was spotted there this week."

She shrugs, "Sure." Well, she hasn't heard anything about a famous author, but Suiren sure enjoys blowing all her income on books. Lately though, all she ever seems to find were bargains. It's just- No matter how much generosity the new bookstore owner shows (who has remained largely anonymous since this place was resold a few years ago), these places just don't feel the same to her anymore. Sometimes it feels like the longer her parents have been dead the worse it gets. And the terrible thing is—she isn't the same person she was a lifetime ago. But maybe this is normal. This is okay. This girl is Suiren Hyōzan.

Hidesato must know this unsettling discomfort about bookstores, of course. They don't talk about the many dark-hearted experiences they have between them but it doesn't bother her as much it might have, in another lifetime.

He scrutinises the group of kids they're tailing behind. Suiren spies a little pink-haired girl cradling Jiraya's new Political Conquests novel.

"Ugh that's so pointless. If they need a tutor for theory then they might as well sign their fates to Genin Corps," Hidesato remarks like he's overheard adults say that a million times. Only, Suiren knows Hidesato is just full to the brim with jealousy. He's the biggest nerd she's ever met and would definitely kill to get tutored.

Said nerd peers over her shoulder at the book she's staring at when Suiren doesn't reply. A groan grumbles, "Murako again? You've read all 76 versions of his great big tragedy of a life and yet here you are, still reading Murako."

"I like Murako," Suiren dismissively sets the book back. "But unlike others, I read him because I like his conversational style. His ideas are modern at worst."

"Half the facts are generalised. All his arguments are just genetic fallacies and are weaker than Sand nin stranded in Land of Water."

Suiren closes her eyes and inhales sharply. When she opens again, her glare is red-tinged. Takethehighhorsetakethehighhorse— "Hidesato, you are a child-" Her jaw drops. She snatches Hidesato's arm and furiously, vigorously jabs behind him. He looks behind him. Suiren stuffs her fist in her mouth to stop her heart exploding, "It's-it's holy Jesus fuck!"

Hidesato's jaw drops. "Jiraya-sama…" he breathlessly whispers. And there the legendary, mysterious, never-seen, never-spoken 'god of everything known to man' is, out in the courtyard of the bookstore, leaning on a chair, laughing animatedly to some irrelevant stranger.

"Actual god, actual Jesus, actual mmmmMMMphf, oh my god let's go let's go!" Suiren fidgets impatiently as she waits for Hidesato to pack up his things. Suiren and her only friend shoot through the shop, darting around a few startled people, and rushes up to the Sannin with breathless hearts.

Jiraya looks away from his tea expectantly when two kids arrive at his table, stars in their eyes. Ah this familiar situation dawns on him. Suiren opens her mouth but flushes shyly as conversation halts between Jiraya and his companion. Hidesato glances at her, and quickly intercepts with an easy-going smile. "Hello Jiraya-sama, I am Sarutobi Hidesato and this is Hyōzan Suiren. We are both massive fans of your work."

There's a moment of glancing up and down before the revered author breaks into a deep, hearty laugh. Jiraya's the kind of man who fills up a whole room from just sitting down in a chair. "So you've read all my books, eh?"

Suiren flushes darker at the implication of his 'really famous works'. "Just the ones you wrote on revitalising the market for shinobi and mercenaries, and the effects of cohabiting with civilians in military villages. But I… really enjoyed The Tale of the Gutsy Ninja and From the Eastern Wind."

Jiraya beams at her confession. The girl scours her head for everything she's heard about the Sannin: fought and became legends in the Second Shinobi World War; one of the greatest minds behind the reveal of Grass' obscure blood revolution through his exemplar espionage skills; saved the Sandaime from two assassination attempts (not that the Hokage needed protection but Jiraya was praised as a real hero), and has his own ongoing list of literary achievements, including the acclaimed literotica Icha Icha. What a legend.

"Is it alright if you could sign our books?" Suiren shyly questions. At Jiraya's why not smile, she drops her bag from her shoulders and rummages around to find that copy on Cloud Country's bizarre feral lightning dogs and wind rabbits.

Jiraya accepts Hidesato's pen.

"Can I ask how long are you staying for?"

Jiraya hums and rubs the back of his head, shaggy white mane glinting in the sun. Those deep red lines gleamed brightly in Suiren's eyes. "Not long, just here to see an old teammate of mine." He hands back the two copies of The Seen and Unseen.

Suiren's smile freezes, but she doesn't pry further. Old teammate? "Thank you for your time." They bow respectfully and wave goodbye. Hidesato catches a few more glances before he made really awkward eye contact and decides to stop looking back.

"It's like I'm dreaming," He murmurs as they head out of the door. Suiren snorts. A ghostly figure catches her eye. Her eyes narrow and she stops. "Hey Hidesato… isn't that Kimimaro?" He turns around. Pale moss green yukata and that singular funny braid—there odd boy is, talking to the bookstore clerk.

"Oh. Yeah it is."

Suiren continues to walk towards the door. "That's strange," she looks at Hidesato, but he only shrugs. She doesn't think much of it. (A pity.)

"By the way," Hidesato asks just before they part at the intersection of the main street, "What's Jesus?"

Suiren blinks dumbly for a moment.

Oh shit.

"Oh that! I was just researching this religion and I guess it just slipped into my head. Some son of god or something, I dunno." Suiren scratched her head and smiled. Fuck why did Hidesato have to be so perceptive? He smiles at her again and Suiren realises he doesn't believe her at all. Never has believed any of her lies, but she has no real reason for lying, so he takes it as it is.

We all have secrets we don't share.

And slowly and insipidly, Suiren loses contact with Mikoto.

It's Year of the Monkey, Month of Water, Suiren is eight and pretty much an adult, and Juugo has a smile like almond butter honey.

As the Academy kids move through the grades, there is a small and slow trickle of younger and more talented students skipping a few grades here and there. Suiren isn't one of them, she's happy where she is, thank you very much, but this year there are two other students who transfers into their class without an explanation or background. One of them has vermillion red hair, switches from talking like a smart-ass mouse and an angry hippo in a matter of moments. The other is Juugo: almond butter smile, punch drunk eyes and a nose that's definitely been broken five times or more. She feels jittery, like there's bubbles inflating and bursting in her chest. Like she drank too much soda and now it's all too late for her.

"You like him," Hidesato accuses, judges, and smiles.

"What!" She almost snorts out the honey tea she ordered, all disgustingly sweet. Like her feelings. "No, I do not." Recognising that look on his face again, she defends indignantly, "Dude… I'm eight."

"Me too?" He quizzes with a tilt of his head.

"Well, I don't like 'like' him alright, but I probably like the idea of liking someone. I mean, it's nice, isn't it?"

"Not really, Sui-chan. You sure know a lot about this stuff."

"Well! Okay- Sure. Maybe. I dunno." And here is yet another whoops moment. It feels like any moment, Hidesato will knock her unconscious and drag her traitorous body to Torture and Interrogation, exposing this dumbass girl for who she really is. My parents are dead is on the tip of her tongue, but that sounds even more 'adult' than this conversation already is. And heaps of children have dead parents here, she isn't special. Hidesato's great-grandfather died in their living room because his family didn't want their secrets to be exposed. Who was she to question these things, really?

"Ew. Cooties, Hidesato." Suiren forces back hysterical giggling. Cooties. Right.

Hidesato remains unconvinced as always, but he doesn't question her either, as always. Suiren wonders how much longer she can stand, before the fall. Before people around her stop holding back. Before she crumbles. Because- this is absurd. How- how on earth can you really expect her to keep going like this? Sure, it's been eight years, but she's still Not Suiren. Or maybe she is Suiren. Maybe the whole past life was a dream, except there's no way to ever really be sure… oh god. Someone save her from this reality.

.

.

.

.

But there is no one. There is only her. And certain death at the end of this dusty road.

.

.

.

.

"Hey."

"Hey Sui-chan."

"HEY SUI-CHAN!"

"Oh fucking heck Hidesato, what?"

"I called you three times. What are you doing this afternoon?"

"Going home probably. Why?"

"Would you like to have dinner at my home?"

"What? Oh. I'm going to Mikoto-san's house for dinner."

"Ah. How is Uchiha-san?"

She scrutinises him carefully. "Fine probably. Why? What have you heard?" Hidesato had some serious connections.

He suddenly starts staring at the ground.

"Hidesato, tell me. It's fine, I can handle it," she pats her chest—but his expression freezes her cold. Hidesato Sarutobi, for all his annoying habits and weird and wacky ancient expressions, is a kind person. Well, shinobi-kind, anyway. He'd probably have no problem stabbing enemy-nin.

"I really have not heard much, but it sounds serious. And by serious, I mean-"

"That's fine. I don't need to know anymore." Suiren promptly gets up and starts packing her bag.

"Sui-chan-"

"Hidesato, I wasn't supposed to know that anyway. Whatever happens-" happens, "should be fine." And Suiren waves him a goodbye as she runs off with the rest of her classmates. He's still standing there when she dashes out the gate. Alone.

What is she doing? She's powerless really. She's eight. So, is she- is she doing the right thing? What's the right thing? Should she just pretend she is not a glitch in the system? Like, she doesn't have the advantages of someone much, much older than an eight year? Who knows so many bits and pieces of this world's history?

Ah. She almost steps onto a dead bird on the path home. Its head is cocked to side, eyes closed peacefully. A mess of maggots and clotted blood eats a hole to the center of its body. Its hollow and decaying—just. like. her.

Oh, god. How will she go to Mikoto-san's house tonight?

She ends up going anyway. Buried in the warmth and cosiness of a real family, with real food and real love—Suiren robotically finishes her soup. It's the first decent meal she's had all year.

"Itachi's going to be promoted to ANBU captain next year."

Never mind, she feels like throwing up.

"Oh, Suiren-chan, aren't you hungry?"

She pushes her rice around the bowl. "No it's not that…" Suiren peers around the table. Fugaku, Mikoto and Sasuke. Itachi was off doing stuff in ANBU. Probably killing people, getting close to Hatake Kakashi, learning the secrets of the Sharingan.

And this time next year- this time next year she thinks that maybe they won't be around anymore. At least, not like this. Oh, don't kid yourself, they won't be around anymore and that's final. But she can't just mope around anymore, it's just becoming too depressing. She should make the best of things. Yeah. Just make the best of things.

"I would like to learn the Great Fireball Jutsu."

Fugaku looks at Mikoto in surprise. Mikoto simply nods at her, then gives Fugaku a look, mouthing 'she wants to improve too, duh'.

'Oh'.

"Very well. We can start after dinner. Get up."

"Right now?"

"Your plate is empty."

"Oh- oh yeah." She quickly totters after Fugaku, but not before looking at Mikoto quickly for support. Mikoto-san nods warmly. Mother-cat sending children off to war.

They're in the compound courtyard. Mostly sand and dirt pavement, with sparse vegetation—perfect for training. There's a river running all the way down to the center of town. Mikoto is probably reading something obscure. Sasuke's disappeared to do his homework (he's so obedient – what happened?).

"What year are you in this year?"

"Fourth."

Fugaku hmphs, crossing his arms across his chest. He's blending in perfectly with the dark sky in his black yukata. "And what? You have only just started chakra exercises?"

"No, we did the leaf exercise last year and we're beginning jutsus this year."

"Tsk. When I was your age I had already mastered five elemental jutsus and begun torture and integration techniques."

That's great to hear Fugaku. I'd love to be a child soldier too.

"Watch. I am only going to show it once." Without warning and faster than Suiren could blink, Fugaku flips through some hand signs and out- bursts- one glorious, unfurling fire ball, disappearing over the river. Her mouth pops open in amazement. Could she be as great as that too? Oh- "And the hand signs," Fugaku glosses over them quickly, for a few times. Suiren's got a good memory. She has to.

"Like this?" The kid shows him. She catches on quickly.

"Yes, correct. Then bring your chakra to the center of your chest, just below your heart—the 5th gate. Visualise what you're going to achieve: fire. It's hot, burning, flickering- yes. Now let it out-" And just as Fugaku is all but expecting fire – even a small fireball that's fine it's good –

Nothing happens.

Suiren blinks. She straightens up and looks to Fugaku-san, as if he knew what went wrong.

"Try again."

So, she runs through the hand seals, the pattern becoming ingrained into her memories. Fire, fire, fire, she thinks, prays. Fire, fire, fire.

And this time the stringent crackle of fire escapes her mouth, drying her lips as she almost flinches away. It's more smoke than fire. Black ash. A fake. (Like her.)

"Fugaku-san?"

The masked disappointment is there in his black eyes. With august solemnity, he beckons her to try again. And she does. Third. Fourth. Fifth. Sixth. Until she's panting from chakra exhaustion. Eventually, all that unravels before her is a spitfire cackle of a ball, the size of a large apple.

Ah… he really had expected so much more. Well, this is fine. Her blood is impure after all. This is expected. Yet, Fugaku is unable to shake off how much more he had been expecting, and how Itachi learnt the Great Fireball Jutsu after only seeing it once—so why couldn't Suiren?

"That's enough. Go home and rest. If you start bleeding from your nose, eyes or ears, go to the hospital immediately."

She doesn't hang her head in shame. It's entirely possible fire is not her natural chakra type. Yet, Suiren is unable to shake off that uncomfortable, disquieting feeling of something ugly, something miserable and something bad, because this isn't enough. Not for her. It's not enough for her to be 'enough'. Oh, if only she has more. More power. How could she get more power? Through strength. She needs to become stronger, faster, better. If ninjutsu is a foreign concept, then taijutsu is as innate to her as breathing. After all, the human body does not change between universes.

And so, she trains. She beats her body black and blue. Sometimes Hidesato too. And she's learnt all of Neji's dirty lil' Hyūga tricks. By the end of her eighth year in Konohagakure, Land of Fire, Suiren Hyōzan has understood how to drive her body to the edge of its life. How to drive herself to the edge of her life. What is a rest? What is a book? What is a study? She hauls her ass to the training grounds for hours every day after school, with Hidesato watching as he completes both of their homework. Yeah, she bullies him a little.

(She forgets what Mikoto-san's cooking tastes like.)

Suiren is nine and now her child-bones have taken on the scarring and hardness of someone much, much older. Like, 33 years old, exactly. Haha.

(She loses contact with the Uchihas.)

Lee lands in front of her desk on morning and hollers in capital letters, bold font and exclamation marks after she finally lands Neji in the hospital: "WAIT WHAT DID YOU DO?!"

She turns and stares dead at him. "100 push ups, 100 sit ups, 100 squats and 10 kilometres running. Every day."

(Slowly, and insipidly.)

yeah, the thing around your neck? it's too tight.