Disclaimer: Naruto © Masashi Kishimoto.

V.

"Hokage! I'm gonna be the first female Hokage, 'ttebane!"

"Yeah right, Tomato!"

She didn't laugh, unlike the more rowdy, antagonistic children.

Kushina's face colored with anger and humiliation, prompting the children to jeer even more.

"I wish to be Hokage as well." The golden boy pressed a fist to his chest, a sign of respect and camaraderie, as his voice rang out over the ruckus. "I wish you luck, Kushina-san. I'm sure you will be a great Fifth Hokage."

"…Fifth? Are you mocking me, 'ttebane!?"

She wanted to laugh. The noise danced about in her belly, waiting for her restraint to falter. The ebony-haired girl was unsure as to why she wanted to laugh at the Whirlpool Country native. There was nothing particularly entertaining about being persecuted for no apparent reason—Mitama still didn't understand Murakumo's reasons for hassling her and the inability to understand perhaps hurt more than the harassing itself.

Mitama was not a bully—her heart, stomach and mouth twisted at the mere thought—but there was something in her that was almost urging the ugly behavior. She chewed on her bottom lip as she kept her eyes trained on her manga, BoBo's Strange Journey: Part II – Combat Propensity, doing her best to suppress the urges that plagued her.

Minato shifted, taken aback. "N-no, I wasn't mocking you, Kushina-san!"

"Don't refer to me with such a casual tone, 'ttebane!"

"Enough, Kushina, Minato." The third year instructor, Hisae-sensei, called their names, a hint of impatience weaving in her brusque tone. "Minato, sit down. Kaede, lift your hand. Kushina, sit in that seat. Class, take out your note scrolls. Listen and do not speak."

The clamor died down in exchange for the morning lesson.

Even as she submerged herself in the day's teachings, Mitama couldn't help but wonder about the source of spiteful sensations that grabbed her heart the longer she looked at the Uzumaki girl.

The ridicule seemed to die down in her third year.

Mitama let out a breath of air when the day passed without any troubling incidents.

Perhaps it was due to the urgency of impeding graduation, leaving no time for the Kurama heir to pay her any mind. He made sure to glare and inflict minor, annoying bodily harm when possible but, otherwise, his attention was directed elsewhere during school hours.

Perhaps it was due to Kushina Uzumaki's arrival. Her proclamation to become the next and first female Hokage had garnered the attention of many—and not in a particularly positive light. With Kushina's appearance, the sable-eyed girl fell into the background, where her oppressors were more interested in the colorful emotions that burst onto the Uzushio native's creamy complexion.

She was merely grateful for the reprieve.

The third year of Academy was a time teeming with tension.

The requirements for Academy graduation were as such: a score of seventy or higher on a written exam, successfully performing two of the four E-ranked Academy jutsu and the completion of at least one optional specialization course to help determine and round out the students' skill set.

Mitama buckled down, knowing these last few years were important for the foundation of her ninja career.

In May and on through June and July, they began to delve into the fields of subterfuge.

Stealth and Infiltration—commonly referred to as S&I—was the first of two Infiltration specializations. It was a mandatory introductory course, concentrating on basic stealth abilities such as cover, camouflage and sound reduction; basic universal visual signs as well were drilled into their heads.

Mitama took well to the lessons.

She was naturally silent and she blended in remarkably well—in the dead of night, at least. In the daylight, she was confident enough in her instincts and camouflaging to escape detection from all who were not sensors and Hyūga. Her sensing skills too were impressive, though a bit unrefined, if she followed and understood her lessons correctly.

She found it odd that when learning the sensing hand seal, she did not need it to sense, having always been able to tell the location of many without effort. When she had performed it and molded chakra, however, her field of perception had decreased but, in exchange, the spikes of heat she had felt for years sharpened into something colder, crisper and made it easier for her to differentiate between each chakra signature.

An interesting discovery, she noted.

Mitama plucked the strand of red hair between two fingers, examining it with a critical eye. She shook her head as she turned her attention to the blatantly obvious source of heat hidden in a bit of thicket. The girl spread the leaves and branches of the closest bush, revealing the wide, alarmed eyes and covered mouth of the Whirlpool native.

"How'd you find me?" She bleated. "I made sure to cover my tracks!"

Wordlessly, she dangled the single strand of red before the girl's violet eyes.

"Argh! Stupid hair, 'ttebane!"

Mitama shook her head once more, pocketing the strand to discard elsewhere and turning to find her sixth target. Even without her sensing capabilities, she would have been able to find the redhead girl simply due to her neglect to detail.

She didn't even tie her hair up. The ebony-haired girl softly scoffed, flicking the hair into a bit of dirt and covering it, grinding her sandal excessively. What an amateur mistake.

"Hey, hey! Good finding me earlier! Say, how about I treat you as a reward?" She scratched her cheek, a sheepish grin on her face as she averted her gaze. "You'll have to show me where, though. Along with a couple other places, maybe…?"

Mitama shook her head, voice soft and apologetic. "…Sorry, Kushina-san. I'm busy."

Really, she was. Her taijutsu was painfully pathetic; her endurance as well. She needed to research ways to rectify her mistake of letting the issue stagnate for so long.

Her face fell, her shoulders slumped—even her vibrant red hair seemed to dull in response. "O-oh. Well, maybe some other time?"

The sable-eyed girl nodded mutely, watching as the lonesome, downcast girl disappeared into the afternoon crowd of people.

She'll get used to it. Her mind reasoned, teeth worrying her bottom lip as she fought the urge to go after the redhead. There's no reason that she can't. I had to.

Her progress was minimal. With a lack of direction and saddened violet eyes swimming in her head, Mitama retreated and vowed to try again another day.

She finished off her evening by attempting another chakra control exercise, Tree Walking. She lasted for about four minutes before she fell from her place about five feet off the ground.

She stared up at the darkening sky blankly before her eyes slid to the convenience store across from the park she resided in.

She placed the decorated bento on Kushina's seat, a note attached apologizing for her lack of manners and a folded, annotated map detailing Konohagakure no Sato's prominent restaurants, facilities and landmarks.

Her heart warmed at the redhead's pinked cheeks full of delighted surprise and she felt a little less like a trespasser trespassing on land that did not belong to her when she noticed a tiny smile on the golden boy's face.

In August, they started a unit of rudimentary fūinjutsu.

Academy students were required to learn how to properly use storage scrolls, how to properly activate common tags, recreate them using a common sealing design and were shown various displays of what fūinjutsu could do.

Further training in fūinjutsu required application into another course once the rank of genin was reached, where the fundamentals of sealing and the creation of C-rank or lower seals were detailed; it also allowed the use of seals for non-personal use, such as gifts to friends and selling. After passing the exams with a score of seventy or higher, the applicant would receive the title of Sealing Adept.

Fūinjutsu was an interesting branch of the ninja arts.

The Uzumaki were renowned for their skill in the sealing arts and their specialty seals were always held in lofty regard. Luckily for Konohagakure, the Uzumaki and Senju were close comrades, allowing them access to seals not available to any of the other Elemental Nations in time of need.

Even if one were not Uzumaki, high level specialists were in high demand and could net a nice income for creating complex sealing arrays and sealing bijū, though, the latter was reserved only for the most masterful. Certification for fūinjutsu specialization had a very high standard due to the volatile nature of sealing and the steep consequences of fumbling even the simplest array.

While useful, Mitama couldn't see herself using fūinjutsu as the basis of a ninjutsu style.

She glanced over at the golden boy, diligently memorizing the kanji and esoteric writing for an explosive tag. It was obvious that Minato had taken a liking to the art; the ebony-haired girl couldn't help but notice the way his baby blues lit up at the exciting, flamboyant displays that had been shown in regards to the dynamics of fūinjutsu.

"Hisae-sensei!" The redhead cried as she lifted her hand. She didn't bother to wait for the woman to acknowledge her. "Why don't we learn to make explosive tags the way we do in Uzushio? It's way easier than this crud!"

The sandy-haired teacher sighed, a bored expression marring her tanned features. "First of all: don't speak out of turn. As for your question, we're not using Uzumaki-based arrays because we aren't. That satisfy you?"

"But it's simple! All you have to do is—"

"Shut up, Kushina. I won't tell you again."

She smothered the urge to snicker, feeling oddly vindicated that the redhead was admonished. Her head inclined, catching sight of the dejected look on Minato's face.

The feeling of satisfaction left as quickly as it had come.

Her gaze was blank, fingers digging into the strap of her bag as she watched the Uzushio native's head jerk back in a seemingly unnatural arc. The grip the heckler boy had on her hair looked painful and, judging by the sheen of unshed tears, it most certainly was.

She rubbed her scalp absently, remembering the way Murakumo had had her thinner strands in his grubby grip and the agonizingly slow, ripping sensation that had accompanied it.

Mitama knew the pain the redhead was going through. The feeling of isolation and of the cruelty; it had been only recently that Mitama herself had been liberated from it. If given a choice, she would never wish it on another—no matter what the traitorous voices whispered into her head.

She wasn't that type of her person. She was not. She may have struggled in helping herself but she was more than capable of assisting another.

She could help Kushina. She should help Kushina. She would help Kushina.

They're genin? Her eyes cut from the glint of metal, mildly intimidated but the small blossom of courage in her breast won out, spurring from her a hesitant step forth and cold fingers to fold into a hand seal. Murakumo had to have been around genin-level, right? I beat him, in my own way. If I—If I tried using a genjutsu, maybe I could—

"Mitama-san."

Her head turned, startled. "M-Minato-san!?"

"You left this at your desk." He held out her manga, smiling as she took it with shaking hands. "The next volume is really good. I have a copy, if you want to borrow it."

"U-uhm, o-okay? I mean, yes! That would be n-nice." The ebony-haired girl nodded, smiling awkwardly, distracted. "I have to, uh, do something…"

Minato hummed, his gaze over her shoulder. "She doesn't need any help."

Her head turned.

"Don't mess with me, 'ttebane!" A battle cry with fury suffusing every syllable rang out, jolting her thin shoulders.

Her eyes widened at the sight.

An evil glint entered Kushina's eyes, causing violet to flicker to a haunting piss yellow. She curled her small fist into a tight, trembling ball and, with a shriek, she slammed it into one genin's face, sending him to the ground like a sack of stone. His partner squeaked, caught off guard by the display and, in his stunned surprise, he neglected to dodge the lunge the redhead made for him.

With strength uncanny for her age and stature, she picked him, slammed his body down in what appeared to be a wrestling maneuver and, with no moment for rest, Kushina proceeded to rain a flurry of punches down onto her helpless victims.

"I'll show you not to mess with Kushina Uzumaki, 'ttebane!"

"See? She didn't need it." The golden boy said from beside her, eyes trained on the sight.

Mitama didn't respond, heart stopping at the flailing red tails of hair.

("…!? The emergency siren!? W-Wha—!?"

"What is that thing...!?"

"…Oh gods no…")

Summer vacation came.

She kept herself occupied with building her chakra reserves and chakra control. When not working on physical training, she checked out several tomes detailing the workings of the central nervous system, toxicology, neurology and anatomy. For relaxation and as utility, publications on herbs, flowers and venomous creatures were her selections.

The need for knowledge and the need to ignite the kindling fragments of her memory was almost insatiable for Mitama.

It was as if she had something to prove. To whom, Mitama wasn't sure.

("All that hard work and they fail me!? No strengths, no team synergy!? The nerve of him! I'm not fit to be a shinobi, he says! How is it my fault they put me on the wrong squad!? I know one thing: I'm not going back to the Academy! Not again! That's for damn sure!")

It was all about getting the feel for it, Mitama knew. It was exactly how she had taken to using chakra that first time years ago in her second year classroom.

Her breathing was slow and her hands, still. The fish flopped weakly, beady eye staring up at her pleadingly as its tiny chest expanded, contracted with each large gulp of air. She smiled repentantly, whispering a weak apology to the carp and to the heavens for potentially slaughtering another innocent creature in the pursuit of selfishness.

She was hesitant to call it a necessary sacrifice for fear of sounding too callous but… What else could she do?

Medical ninjutsu was a delicate, intricate process that required the utmost concentration, chakra control and an understanding of Yin- and Yang-based chakra.

Yin and Yang were chakra natures, similar to that of the elements. Through the manipulation of the two, one was able to achieve the usage of non-elemental techniques such as the Academy Four, genjutsu, medical techniques and the Ino-Shika-Chō hiden techniques through varying, specific balances.

However, without either, one could have neither. Yang was the reality and Yin was the essence; both were required for the form. Even if a technique was comprised predominately of Yin, there would always be a speck of Yang to stabilize it. On the reverse, Yin would do the same for a predominantly Yang technique.

Healing ninjutsu was tricky. One would initially believe medical ninjutsu was comprised mostly of Yang. In reality, it was both. Some people were more inclined towards using Yang chakra to heal, while others were inclined to use Yin. It was rare but there were even some that could use both equally, making their healing more potent; it was similar in manner to an advanced nature transformation kekkei genkai.

At its base, medical ninjutsu used chakra to accelerate the body's natural healing process of a wound. Such an acceleration was done in one of three ways: a) using Yin chakra, a medic stimulated the Yang chakra in an area to heal, forcing the area to stabilize due to the imbalance presented; b) Yang chakra was used, increasing the amount of Yang already present and increasing the speed of the healing; or c) a medic used both Yin and Yang, accelerating the process completely past normal standard due to the previous reasons.

In addition, one had to essentially manipulate the chakra to put things back in their place, similar to setting a broken bone manually. It required a vast understanding of the human structure and its inner workings; the reason why a person striving to pursue a medical career required years upon years of study and experience.

Mitama licked her lip, eyes fastened on her slimy patient.

Fish used diffusion to get dissolved oxygen from surrounding molecules of water. They sucked in water through their mouths and expelled it through the gills, taking the oxygen needed and discarding waste carbon dioxide. When taken out of water, a fish suffocated due to their gills collapsing without water supporting their weight. In response, there was a lack of surface area left exposed for the gas exchange and, for most fish, oxygen deficiency caught up to them rapidly, leading to asphyxiation.

The basic goal of the fish exercise was to keep a fish alive for at least three minutes out of water. The first and easiest solution would be to toss them back into water, however, that defeated the purpose of the exercise.

Instead, a medic-nin-in-training would use one of the previously-mentioned methods and coax the fish's Yang chakra to fortify the flimsy, tissue paper-like gills and allow for proper diffusion. Water could be used to aid the process but, again, defeated the purpose, though, it counted as another control exercise.

She let out a quivering sigh, blinking away the stinging sweat dripping into her eyes. She could feel her chakra reserves reaching their empty mark. Expected as she had been going since late morning. She tried keeping the emission of chakra as low, thin and spread out as possible to conserve her stamina but there was only so much training an eight year old could do.

The carp flailed its tail weakly, as if waving a white flag, begging for her to release it.

"C'mon, don' die on me now." She murmured, eyebrows knitting as she glanced over at the alarm clock she'd set. "We're almost there. Don' ya worry…"

Five. Four. Three. Two and…

She quickly cut off emission as the sharp ringing sounded, picked up the fish and gently tossed it back into its home. It floated there, moving its tail feebly, attempting to swim away from the pond's edges. It ceased after a few seconds, slowly surfacing with belly upturned.

Mitama felt tears prick at the corner of her eyes at her tenth failure. After a small moment of mourning, she sighed as she fished out the deceased creature and laid it out on a disposable tarp. She thought about taking it home to eat but she decided against it; it wasn't necessity to eat the fish as it had been once before in the wilds of Fire Country. Playing with its life and then having the nerve to consume it and its brethren—it was too disrespectful and cruel.

She also hadn't brought a means to preserve the fish long enough to bring back to her house. So there was that as well.

"So close…" She whispered, digging yet another grave for one of the finned patients she had failed over the course of the day. "'m so sorry, Fish-san…"

The feeling of accomplishment was there, right within her grasp, but, once again, her fingers merely brushed its edges.

"That was a good try." A lingering spike of heat approached, voice whimsical.

She tilted her head back, squinting at the sharp glare of the person's circular lens. Their head shifted and Mitama could discern their appearance a bit easier. Emerald green eyes glittered along with the benevolent smile on her face, her brown hair, so close to blonde shifted as she squatted down next to the ebony-haired girl. Her headband glinted in the folds of her shirt, ranking her as an official kunoichi of Konohagakure.

Mitama remembered her from the hospital. Nonō, they had called her.

Her eyes fell back to the shallow grave. "Good isn't enough when it comes to medical ninjutsu."

"And that is why you must practice. You can't let these poor fish die in vain, right?" The older girl chuckled, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. "Here. Would you like me to show you a trick or two?"

Her high, tinkling laughter brought a shy smile to Mitama's pallid face.

She spent the rest of her day with Nonō-senpai, watching with rapt attention as the kunoichi healed with what seemed like only a touch.

"This is the last time that I will be inspecting this apartment." Ayako said, seating herself on the quilt-covered bed with crossed legs. "I'm impressed that you actually managed to enter your final year of Academy with no academic or domestic troubles."

The sable-eyed girl let her lips twitch into a smile, ashamed that she thought so much of the blonde chūnin's approval. "Thank you, Ayako-san."

The person she truly wished to hear from had all but disappeared from her life since the day of her admission to official training. Her fingers fisted into the fabric of her skirt as she thought of dark, gentle eyes and spiked silver hair.

Her lips were dry as she asked, "Ayako-san? H-have you seen Sakumo-san lately? Is he doing well?"

"He has been on down time for about a week now." Turquoise eyes narrowed before widening, her rose-colored lips forming a cruel smirk. "Ah, I see. You thought Sakumo actually cared about you."

Her shoulders stiffened and her mouth set into a firm line as tears pricked at the backs of her eyes.

"I suppose you can't be faulted—Sakumo has that effect on people. He is much too kind and merciful for such a talented, handsome man." The words sounded distinctly like insults coming from Ayako. "Then again, it should have been obvious. Why, I saw him relatively recently and he had not bothered to mention you. Has he ever even called you by your name, I wonder?"

She remained stubbornly silent as the Yamanaka chūnin incited further ignominy and anger—at both herself and the man she so foolishly called her hero and savior.

"He calls you little one, I am sure. He does that to all children, silly girl. Nothing more than an excuse to keep from calling your name and tarnishing that benevolent façade he is so loved for by not remembering it."

Mitama rose from her seat, padded over to her door and pulled it open. Ayako laughed, pushing up from her seat as well and sauntering to the young girl with nothing less than amusement coloring her countenance.

"Kicking me out, are you?" She giggled, leaning against the door. "The truth is too much for you?"

"Please leave." Her voice trembled and she screamed at herself for being so damn polite.

"You realize he has his own family, yes? You are negligible in comparison." The chūnin smiled, using a thumb to wipe away the blood that welled on the broken skin of her lip.

Mitama's mouth curled into revulsion as the blonde licked away the coppery liquid from her finger. Ayako smiled a wider, almost unearthly smile that brandished teeth much too white.

"Please leave." She repeated.

"A word of advice, child: shinobi are not altruistic. Not even Sakumo Hatake." She mocked, flicking hair over her shoulder. "Even if you are but a child, we will exploit you if you can serve a purpose. If you survive long enough, you will see and you will do the same as we have done for decades. We are deceivers."

"Leave. Please." Her nails dug into the door's frame.

"But, what we lack in mercy, we make up for in perseverance. We endure." The blonde chūnin cupped her pale cheek tenderly, tucking a lock of inky hair behind her ear. "You have performed well thus far, Mitama. Do not prove me right by giving up before the storm has even reached the horizon."

She left without another word, leaving only the sharp echoing of clicking heels.

The ebony-haired girl closed her door, releasing a shuddering breath as she rubbed her eyes with her sleeve. She tilted her head back, staring at the ceiling blankly and licking away the blood that stained her lip.

Unsurprisingly, she cried like the piteous little child she was.

Summer vacation went.

Mitama bought a new pot of flowers, red spider lilies. She bought a new quilt, folding and storing the other away.

After summer vacation and through September, October and November, tactical maneuvers for four-man squads were emphasized as the remaining students would inevitably be sorted into such groups. A refresher course for wilderness survival on their home turf of thick woodland was included; they were Leaf shinobi and were expected to survive and thrive beneath the leaves of the Land of Fire.

Excursions into the various training grounds became a common event and, while Mitama could easily deal with the survival aspect, she wasn't very fond of the competitive, combat aspect that accompanied them more often than not.

There was a sense of déjà vu clinging to the situation as she pressed herself up against the hard bark of her hiding place. She ignored it in favor of focusing on the approaching sources of heat, hands forming the sensing seal once they were within range of her perception field, which was a paltry three meters.

It served its purpose, allowing her to identify them to be a team of three from her own class. She recognized them all but could only put a name to one. Her heart seized and she frowned, regretfully.

She breathed in softly before she jumped from her perch, stumbling on her landing and fumbling the item clutched in her hand, a scroll marked with the kanji for earth. Without a glance, she scooped up her treasure and tucked it into her obi before breaking out into a sprint. There were a few noises of startle but, otherwise, no words were exchanged as the opposing team followed her, intent on claiming the goal scroll.

Her legs and lungs ached as she ran but she managed to keep her mind focused on examining her surroundings and counting down from ten, biting her lip to force herself to remain calm as the team gradually closed in. She grit her teeth as she focused on a spike of heat hiding around a bend and, as she ducked beneath a branch, she grabbed onto a hanging vine just in reach, using the momentum from her run to swing across to her destination perch.

Her job was done.

"Shadow Possession complete."

She hopped down, landing steadily unlike previously before she trailed up to the captured squad. The ebony-haired girl offered them an apologetic smile as the Nara felt around for the scroll. A frown marred her features as Nawaki emerged from his hiding spot, a pout puffing out his rosy cheeks; she knew the look to be an adorable prelude to his tiresome griping.

"How come I had to sit this one out?" He complained, padding over to her side.

"Because she was better bait." Shikaku drawled, tossing the scroll.

She sent him a glare but remained silent, catching the scroll and examining it. She nodded once she saw that it was marked with the kanji for water, exactly what they were searching for.

"We shouldn't be using teammates as bait. It's not right." He eyed the captured team through a squinted gaze. "Besides, I'm sure we could've taken them no problem."

"What did you say, 'ttebane!?" Kushina, one of the captured, yelled, obviously angered at having their scroll taken, being apprehended and having her strength insulted. "I'd totally send you packing, buddy!"

"What? I'm the grandson of the First, you know! That title isn't just for show!"

"You could be his butt crack and I wouldn't care! No one doubts my strength like that and gets away with—HEY! AHH!"

Mitama smiled lightly as she looked up at the suspended group. "I'm sorry, Kushina-san but we have to make sure you don't chase after us. The net shouldn't be too hard to get through."

The self-satisfaction was strong as her team retreated with their objective completed and a fuming redhead in their wake.

In December, the boys and girls were separated for their next months of training.

They referred to it as Infiltration and Cover—or I&C for short—and it was the second of the two Infiltration specializations. Unlike Stealth and Infiltration, which focused on stealth and usage of chakra to obscure detection, I&C generally required none.

Instead, it focused on slipping into facilities through disguise and manipulation. They were to appear as one of the common passerby, going about their day without garnering a second glance from anyone. It required shinobi to momentarily forget all the ingrained tendencies and teachings; chakra was not be used under any circumstance barring emergency or completion of objectives. They had to learn to labor without the miraculous advantage chakra imbued upon them and, because of that element, Infiltration and Cover was considered the more difficult of the two specializations.

She couldn't help but giggle.

The fact that simple tasks such as painting a fence, climbing a ladder and pulling weeds was considered difficult was nothing short of hilarity.

"Water is soft, fluid and yielding." The instructor said softly, long fingers deftly pulling hair into an immaculate bun held secure with intricate kanzashi. "However, water will wear away rigid, unyielding rock. That which is fluid, soft and yielding will overcome that which is rigid and hard. Water is soft—but it is also strong. A woman should be like water."

A kunoichi was trained to be as water.

They were to appear soft and harmless, traits that belied the steely, resistant nature that delved beneath their surface. They were to surreptitiously seep within the cracks, uprooting and weathering away any obstacle that had been placed before them. They were to coax and prod, manipulate without the need for messy bloodshed.

They learned the proper way to perform tea ceremonies. They learned to apply makeup and how to take care of their hair and skin. They dressed in elegant, elaborate kimono and learned of proper grace and etiquette. They learned of ikebana and hanakotoba, sending secret messages and warnings through beautiful, artistic flower arrangements. They learned herbalism and the beginnings of poisoning, coating sharp kanzashi and hidden daggers alike. They sung until their throats were sore, raw and danced traditional dances until their feet bled. They learned to play instruments, fingers strumming and beating until they were cramped and stiff. They learned calligraphy, literature and poetry. They learned of seduction, coquettishly batting their eyelashes, pinking their cheeks on cue and hissing insidious lies into the ears of all who listened. They learned to take of themselves, their bodies.

They learned to be cultured, beautiful women.

All for the purpose of furthering their potential as kunoichi.

Mitama liked kunoichi classes.

They allowed her to indulge in activities she previously did not have the time, money or access to.

She brushed back her hair, careful not to disturb the plum blossom kanzashi used to secure a bit of hair behind her ear. Her makeup was minimal; she hadn't even donned her concealer makeup for a change. According to her instructor, too much concealer was detrimental to her eyesight and the prim woman had given her many, many tips to lighten the dark bruises and bags under her eyes.

"Five minutes, ladies!"

"Yes, Maiko-sensei!"

She checked over her appearance once more in her mirror, standing to her feet to collect a parasol and gather with the other congregating kunoichi-in-training.

During her journey, she paused.

The redhead was struggling, terribly so. She looked barely put together; her obi laid out next to her haphazardly, her kimono hanging off one shoulder and wrestling with her thick mane of hair with a simple brush. Mitama frowned, feeling sympathetic—Kushina did have a lot of hair—but the look of agitation on the redhead's face had the corners of her lips threatening to upturn into a smirk.

You're not like that. She admonished herself, fingers gripping the edge of her hanging sleeves. Go help her. Now.

She took in a steadying breath, padding over to the Uzumaki.

Her voice was light as she stood over her shoulder, a patient smile on her face. "Do… Do you want me to help, Kushina-san?"

The girl jolted, letting go of the brush in her hand. Mitama covered her mouth with a sleeve, hiding her laugh at the sight of the poor brush suspended in a fuzzy tangle of red. Kushina's face scrunched, her eyes filling with tears, her chubby cheeks reddening and her lips balling up in despair.

She looked so childish and sad—Mitama couldn't help but feel sorry for her.

"I can't get it right, 'ttebane!"

"Please don't cry, Kushina-san. It isn't that hard. I'll show you." She kneeled, carefully unraveling the beauty implement from the mass of hair and proceeding to style it with quick, deft hands.

"I hate this stupid hair. It does nothing but cause me trouble." The redhead grumbled, sulking as the ebony-haired girl pinned up another tail of red.

"I think Kushina-san's hair is beautiful." There was a hint of bitterness that neither she nor the Uzumaki noticed.

She jolted, eyes widening comically. "Really!? Don't lie to me, 'ttebane!"

"I'm not. Kushina-san has long, soft and striking hair." Her lips curled kindly. "And the color... Red is the color of passion and of strength. It suits you very well."

My hair is nothing in comparison. Her eyes narrowed. Thin, short and black. Black is nothing. It is the absence of color, of life. Black is death.

"T-thank you… Mitama." Her cheeks pinked, her grin, bashful and her eyelashes fluttering.

She fought the scowl that threatened to overtake her face. They were not of the closeness that allowed Kushina to refer to her with such casualty. However, she did not comment on it.

She merely nodded, continuing to assist the girl.

After a few short moments of fidgeting and glancing at Mitama through the mirror's reflection, she spoke through trembling lips. "Say, Mitama… Uhm, d-do you wanna go to the upcoming festival with me?"

She blinked slowly before her lips morphed into a soft smile. "If you want."

She frowned when Kushina went to retrieve her parasol.

Setsubun, the day before the beginning of spring.

A local temple sponsored a festival with permission from the Hokage, allowing the denizens of Konohagakure no Sato to enjoy the festivities they had provided.

Setsubun was a day often thought of as New Year's Eve due to its connection to the Lunar New Year. As such, it was accompanied by a special ritual meant to cleanse away the evil of the former year and drive away obake, disease-bringing evil spirits for the year to come.

She and Kushina had performed the custom of mamemaki, putting on oni masks and taking turns throwing roasted soybeans at each other while screaming "Demons out! Luck in!" before slamming the front door. It was typically performed by the male head of the household, however, neither Kushina nor Mitama had such a being present. They had improvised and Mitama would be lying if she had said that she didn't have fun with the Whirlpool native.

Afterwards, they proceeded to eat roasted soybeans, one for each year of their life to bring luck. For the oddest reason, Mitama had the urge to eat at least twenty four of them.

She managed to curb the feeling when Kushina pointed out a video arcade and begged for some ryō to play. She promptly spent it all on playing Sac-Man, Toader and Unknown Headquarters—the latter of which Mitama played as well as it was a two-player game. During the video game marathon, the redhead thought it wise to consume large quantities of water, thinking it would somehow improve her concentration. Instead, it filled her bladder to the brim, causing her to flee unannounced to a restroom in an adjacent restaurant.

"Mitama-san?"

She turned her head, stopping in her act of stuffing her face with an ehō-maki, a large sushi with three or more fillings based on complementary tastes and colors. "Muh?"

The golden boy smiled kindly as he approached, flanked by a taller brunette man. Despite the different colorings, the similarity between them left no doubt of their relationship.

Awkwardly, she chewed, eyes wide as they darted back and forth between the boy and his companion—it should have been expected that she would meet him with her mouth stuffed like some sort of glutton.

"I didn't expect to see you out here." He looked up at the man. "Papa, this is a classmate of mine. Mitama-san, this is my Papa."

The elder Namikaze's brown eyes glimmered with recognition despite them never personally meeting. "Ah, Mitama-san. It's a pleasure to meet you." He directed her with a smile that stretched his laugh lines as he inclined his head congenially. "I am Kaito Namikaze. I hope that my son hasn't caused you any trouble."

She gulped. Hard. The sable-eyed girl grimaced, hiding it with her deep bow. "N-no, not at all, Kaito-san! Minato-san is very nice to me—he even let me borrow his manga!"

"You? Lending out your precious BoBo's Strange Journey, Minato?" A chuckle rumbled in his chest as he planted a hand in his son's spiky hair. "I'm surprised."

"Papa, stop it." He batted away the man's larger hand, a smile threatening to upturn the corners of his lips.

The sight warmed her heart—the loving, familial scene was too fuzzy not to coo at. It hurt as well—Mitama would never experience such tenderness with her own parents. The notion dug a bit deeper when she remembered that her father and mother had never been that affection in the first place. Her fingers clutched the fabric over her heart, wanting nothing more than to cease the desolation that rooted into her being.

"Mitama-san? Are you here with someone?"

"I—"

"Yeesh, Mitama! It came out like a waterfall, 'ttebane!" Kushina snorted, trailing up to her. "You were totally right! I really shouldn't have drank all that water!"

She wanted to simultaneously laugh, smack her forehead and melt into the ground.

"Hey, hey! Are you gonna write a letter to your folks?"

"No. They aren't...here...anymore."

"O-oh, I'm sorry." A pause. "Do you… Do you wanna write a letter to my folks then?"

"Why would I want to do that?"

"S-so, you don't feel so alone…? Maybe?"

"I—"

"No, no! It was a stupid idea! Never mind! Hey, hey! Teach me how to make that tasty stuff you packed for me that one time!"

She wanted to like Kushina. She wanted to dislike Kushina. Her heart tugged left. Her mind tugged right.

It hurt.

She didn't understand why.

("There is…no one I want to be with more than you.")

On March 10, 267, the Second Shinobi War raged on. The First Hokage's granddaughter, Tsunade, succeeded in countering each and every poison created by Chiyo of Sunagakure no Sato.

On March 10, 267, the Land of Whirlpools was obliterated by a currently unknown force, taking with it the Uzumaki and all clans that resided therein. There was a village-wide moment of silence held in mourning.

On March 10, 267, Mitama turned nine.

She blew out the lone candle on her tiny cake, swathing her apartment in darkness.

She stared at Kushina's tear-streaked face, illuminated by moonlight, and gently tucked her in without a peep.

She wanted to apologize to Kushina for not doing anything. About what, she didn't know.

Her heart ached the longer she looked at Kushina Uzumaki.

("Let us have a moment of silence for our fallen brethren...")

A/N: To start, the idea of specializations and many of the other concepts—the equal gender "kunoichi" courses, mainly—came from an RP website dedicated to Naruto. On the subject, I just thought genin have a bit of free time to waste outside of the few D-rank and rare C-rank missions they are given, along with the training jōnin teachers hold, where the genin are seemingly given scant material to work with. Throwing a couple specialization courses in the mix shouldn't be that much of a stretch. The spiel on medical ninjutsu and Yin-Yang was gathered from several sources, namely a forum I found when looking on Google.

Kushina is here! I hope the MC's conflicting attitude and feelings towards her was difficult to pin down. As well, I hope Ayako came out as an extra-large douche basket. The comment about Sakumo was more on Ayako than on him (maybe) but, while Sakumo is nice, even he doesn't have time for a random kid. Nawaki, Shikaku and Nonō make cameos. Minato has a dad and calls him "Papa." Isn't that adorable?

Side Note 01: BoBo's Strange Journey: Part II – Combat Propensity is a blatant parody of JoJo's Bizarre Adventure: Part II – Battle Tendency. The Strange Journey part is also a homage to Shin Megami Tensei: Strange Journey. Sac-Man, Toady and Unknown Headquarters are parodies of old arcade games.

Side Note 02: The advancement of technology in the Naruto world is hard to pinpoint. With the video arcade, I based it on each IRL decade. I suppose Minato's childhood would be around the mid-to-late 70s and early 80s. Just indulge me, okay?

Side Note 03: The water quote at the start of the kunoichi class section is a quote by Lao-Tzu. It was edited to fit in with the theme.

Side Note 04: Someone asked if MC was an insert of Sakura. She is not. They are not related whatsoever despite unintentional similarities. Someone asked if it was the MC saying the very last line of the previous chapter. Maybe. Maybe not. Someone asked if MC was speaking with a Kansai dialect. It could be? The thing about Japanese dialects are that there are no consistent ways to translate or express them in English. I automatically reverted to stereotypical "country slang." Someone started making ship names. I quite like Minama. Mitato reminds me of some off-shoot cousins to potatoes.

I believe that is all. Please forgive me if I don't respond to reviews. It doesn't mean I don't read them or don't appreciate them. On the contrary, I read them multiple times like some weirdo. Thank you so much for the support and I hope you are all having a good start to the new year.