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Title: daisies bloom over yonder meadow

Rating: T. Will definitely be increasing to M in the future, though, so this is just an early heads-up here for that. Don't say I didn't warn you when disturbing things come up. Eventually.

Summary: "Demons aren't born, otou-sama. They're made." (And from the murky depths of your darkest mistakes, your deepest regrets and your own pitiful worthlessness, I draw my first breath.) [SI/OC, Uchiha!OC, Third War, AU]

Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto.

(AN at the bottom.)

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daisies bloom over yonder meadow

01: "sun-glitter"

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First and foremost, I want you to remember this:

Always, always keep in mind that no matter how terrifying it appears to be, no matter how impossible it seems to overturn, no matter how dire the situation you happen to find yourself ensnared by, in the end a genjutsu is just that –an illusion. An illusion, meaning that it is only fake and immaterial at the heart of things, despite whatever reality-warping power it holds, no matter the level of subtle details or vivid sensations painstakingly crafted into the art.

And while it is true that the core of genjutsu lies in deception, not everything about genjutsu is a lie –not necessarily, at least. But that's a little besides the point right now; I'll touch back on this later.

So, genjutsu.

Illusion.

It's the tricky little technique of imposing one reality onto another, of shattering reality into a thousand minuscule shards of illusion, of rendering illusion such that it becomes naught but the blood-soaked hell we call reality. Insanity and madness, sanity and clarity, the fine line separating one extreme from the other –don't think I don't hear the whispers; I do, even if I don't pay them much mind most of the time. No, I don't really take offense at it. Why would I? The worries aren't entirely unfounded.

… Thing is, they're just coming in a bit too late to be of any use, to actually make any difference to me anymore.

Because–

Because insanity is something that had crept into my world a long, long time ago; insanity is something that had firmly entrenched itself into the recesses of my mind under the thin cover of perfectly lucid sanity, far before I had even began to become truly aware of what genjutsu means.

But this is all neither here nor there; let us continue along with our previous line of conversation.

So –illusions.

Genjutsu.

People have the tendency to overcomplicate it, I think. And despite how it's indeed quite true that the devil is in the details, getting as lost in the details as most people do isn't much of a help towards advancing in the deceptive arts, either. It's silly. People focus on the silliest things to worry their pretty little heads over. They start obsessing over how to perfectly construe a level of description that isn't too vague and isn't too overkill, how to precisely convince a target to fall into a trap unthinkingly, how to make others dance in the palm of their hand without them being any the wiser.

There's really no need for all that, because when you stop and think about it, the answer is simple. You're clever enough to know what I'm talking about, right?

As with most techniques, the more you overly complicate it, the harder and more wasteful the result of your efforts is. Think of ninjutsu –it takes six standard hand seals to spit out the classical Uchiha goukakyuu technique, but skilled users of the particular jutsu in question can easily shorten it to three or four seals with enough practice, enough familiarity, enough control.

Genjutsu is much the same.

For a moment, please just close your eyes and forget about everything everyone says about paying attention to details, to construe reality into the illusion to make your illusion into another reality. Yes, of course noting the details is important the way basic building blocks are, but that's not the point here. Yes, of course creativity is just the icing on top, but it's not necessary–

… Sorry, I'm starting to digress again. Back to the basics, then.

Forget about details.

Forget about precision.

Forget about calculation.

Forget.

And think.

…

To catch another person in an illusion –is essentially to superimpose their reality with one of your own making. The human mind naturally resists that, instinctively rebels against this foreign intrusion that wreaks havoc upon their own perceptions. That's why there are a hundred and one different tips and tricks for catching targets off-guard or unbalanced enough mentally so that they become more susceptible to falling under the influence of genjutsu. Most of these techniques focus on lowering another person's guard to increase the effectiveness of genjutsu, which is why many deem genjutsu much too impractical to be of widespread popular use the way physical attacks of ninjutsu and taijutsu are, too much effort to be worth the trouble.

I agree with that assessment. It's a crude and stupid method to use.

Because basically, what most people are doing when they cast a genjutsu on another person is forcibly twisting them to accept the illusion they've created. To forcibly accept an illusion as reality, and it's… clumsy. It's so very, very clumsy. This is why people need to go to an almost obsessive level of including enough details as much as possible to lower suspicions from the target of the illusion from realizing anything wrong.

Clumsy, see? Clumsy and inefficient.

Let me tell you a secret: If you want to catch a person in an illusion, the easiest way to go about doing so isn't creating a genjutsu, then bull-headedly shoving it into their face and telling them to accept it. It's creating a genjutsu that their mind will already accept. You should craft an illusion that they themselves will accept as reality on their own terms, rather than being forced into to accepting by crude other means.

Convince them. Convince them that they want the illusion, instead of forcing it upon them.

For example; a simple depth perception genjutsu, one that offsets your position in the enemy's eyes. Yes, you can easily trap them with the technique by throwing the illusion into their face with all the grace of a dying drunkard. But which illusion do you think will be more effective, harder to throw off, deeper-rooted –the one in which a charging enemy suddenly appears to be charging from another direction, or one in which you don't know where your enemy is coming from in the first place, and are consistently keeping out a wary eye? In the latter case, if someone is seeking out any and all signs of nearby human presence with their senses, actively seeking out these signs… then give them the signs they're looking for.

It just might not be the correct signs.

… Heh.

Y'see? In a way, crafting illusions, casting illusions, picking apart illusions and putting them back together –it all boils down to intent, I think. In my experience, intent makes all the difference in crafting an illusion.

What is an illusion?

A flash of color, background scenery; blood on steel, ink on paper. An illusion is anything and everything that can be perceived by the human mind and twisted into something entirely different yet still the same.

It is reality.

… In that respect, life itself is very much like a genjutsu, wouldn't you agree?

Fate, destiny, the preordained.

Choice, decisions, the fickleness of man.

Reality and illusion are actually very intimately intertwined with each other, for all that they are supposedly opposites by definition alone. But for the sake of simplicity and to save us both the headache of this endless argument, this ongoing debate, we will just leave this issue here at that. It's not exactly what I want to address with you, although it does provide good context that you would do well to keep in mind.

As a practitioner of one of the trickiest, wiliest ways of a ninja –I have very seldom been asked to explain myself or my motives to anyone. I think it's probably because of this natural way of thinking most people have, this thought of of course so-and-so is eccentric or strange, of course so-and-so's actions are hard to comprehend, because genjutsu. Genjutsu.

Genjutsu has saved me multiple times, but for all the moments I have been saved by it, I have also been destroyed many more times over. It all has to do with the mind, if you ask me –something about the distortion of the mind that walks hand in hand with the art of illusions.

But I'm getting off-track again here.

I think… maybe it's because I have never really had to explain myself to anyone before like this that I'm having so much trouble formulating my words here, to lay out all my cards on the table. It's a strange feeling. To be honest, I'm not quite sure how to even go about this, because it's all just one giant convoluted mess that I have no real desire to untangle in the first place… but I really should get around to doing so, and that's probably the only reason why you're still listening to me right now.

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… I've heard that the beginning is a good place to start, so let's start at the beginning, shall we?

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It starts with fire, and I have little doubt that everything will end in flames, too, a blazing inferno tearing down the world to clear a path for creation.

… But for the sake of accuracy, I will clarify that even though I say fire and do really mean fire, the hazy impression imprinted within my mind is something more along the lines of smoke.

Fire is life and death, creation and destruction wrapped into one blazing inferno. What can you say for smoke?

So, bluntly speaking, I do not know when I was born exactly, nor precisely where I was born; only that in all likelihood this particular event took place sometime, somewhere within the walls of Konoha. For all that I have always possessed sharper intelligence, a stronger awareness than the vast majority of my peers, this trait does not extend to early infancy years, and it would be ludicrous to expect it to.

If I am to be perfectly honest, the earliest thing I remember in my memories is the scent of smoke, and so that is where I will begin:

Smoke.

Not the thick, acrid smoke of burning flames that blaze with the rage of devouring anything and everything unfortunate enough to be the target of its ire. Not the nauseous, rough-ash texture smoke that comes with burning pipe leaves to wind down from a stressful, strenuous day.

It's a light smoke, with a sort of strange scent that isn't entirely pleasant, but not exactly unpleasant by any stretch of the word, either. The lack of floral edge to it pins it down as some type of wood, most likely, but that is only a conclusion that I can draw in retrospect when I look back on things now.

Incense; it is the scent of incense.

The earliest memory than I can recall with any sort of clarity is my mother's funeral.

It is… a lot less impactful than one would think. For one, I don't exactly remember anything about her. Nothing, nothing, nothing. One cannot miss what they never had a chance to know, but if what I have heard later on about her held any semblance of the truth, perhaps it is for the best that she passed as early as she did –that woman had truly been a walking tragedy. A disastrous skirmish on the front lines during the Second War had resulted in a severe fracture in her mind, an unhealthy dose of insanity that would come to ruin the rest of her life with the madness-induced actions she had eventually descended to. Perhaps bearing a child out of wedlock as she had might not have been as bad if she been a simple, clanless Chuunin Corps kunoichi, or perhaps even the daughter of a minor, sidelined clan–

But no.

The Noble Clans are much less unforgiving of such infractions, of such scandalous impropriety, much less the Noble Uchiha Clan, one of the Founding Clans and pillars of Konoha.

… Of course, these are all details that I managed to dig up about the situation later on, after I had proved myself somewhat skilled and not entirely useless to the clan. Back then, the funeral had hardly meant anything to me at the time, if I recall correctly. Maybe some would call this distinct lack of reaction callous, others heartless, but what does that matter?

I lived with Grandfather after that. Ojii-san.

Life with ojii-san is what I remember about the majority of my childhood days. It is also what started me on my path in genjutsu; ojii-san had been one of the leading experts within the clan on this art. Under his tutelage, I began breaking my mind apart and putting it back together, again and again and again. I hadn't thought anything of it at the time, but reflecting upon this again, isn't it strange that someone as important as he would devote so much time to raising a bastard granddaughter? Isn't it strange, for such a traditional man to be so patient and instructive to a child with no true legitimacy to call her own?

Personally, I think it's guilt.

Guilt over the incident that had occurred with his daughter, which then led to his attempt to make up for it somehow by raising me as best as he could, to atone for–

…

… Whereas I feel nothing for the dear okaa-san whom I never had a chance to know, ojii-san is another matter entirely, even if he took responsibility for me more of guilt than any true familial feelings. It did not occur to me for the longest time to question why I was kept indoors more often than not, why I seldom had the chance to interact with other children my age –ojii-san always had training exercises lined up one after another to keep my attentions preoccupied, and I had never been overly interested in seeking out children to make friends with in the first place. It's a sentiment that can be easily understood, I think –while I have never considered myself a prodigy the way others have seen fit to title me with, it is undisputed fact that child prodigies, often prone to being more mature and perceptive than their peers even from a young age, have a hard time relating to them.

I will not deny being mature and perceptive.

The incident with Kana-chan and the lizards did not exactly enthuse me to the idea of playing with my age-mates, either, much less encourage me to start putting in the effort of trying to change my then-current status as a social pariah within the clan.

Now, I'm sure you've heard of this saying before: 'Birds of a feather flock together.' Yet it was not out of shared loneliness that Obito and I gravitated towards each other, finding solace in being oddities, outcasts together. But… there is some degree of truth to the saying. Even if it does not appear as such on the surface, the two of us are much more alike than what most people give us credit for, even all the way back in our early childhood when they simply turned and looked at us standing next to each other –a bright, boisterous young boy adamantly trying to coax this recalcitrant recluse of a little girl out to play under the sun.

They're blind.

How can they fail to see it, the same cursed blood that runs in our veins?

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Obito and I… well. Our relationship is complicated, to say the least. In some ways, it is a blessing that our paths have crossed with each other in this life, but it's as much a blessing as it is a curse as well, and sometimes I oh so very bitterly regret. But before things took a turn for the worse in later years they were good, as good as good can be for children training to be professional killers in a village that encourages murder.

There is a pivotal point, a distinct, marked moment for when things all started spiraling downhill, but that is not the beginning, not quite yet.

The beginning here is:

Fire.

Smoke.

Living in a secluded edge of the Uchiha district with ojii-san.

And then it isn't, because one day, one day a little boy comes. One day, a little boy comes crashing into this peaceful, stagnant scene, all buoyant smiles and bright cheer, abruptly breaking the stillness and solace of the quiet air with all the grace and subtlety of a stumbling elephant. No one ever used to come around to where I lived with ojii-san –a sort of unspoken, unofficial boundary that everyone stayed away from, that everyone avoided. Not consciously, not deliberately, not maliciously, but it was unmistakable avoidance all the same.

Except him.

Except for young little Uchiha Obito, brash and bull-headed and clumsy the way an endearing puppy always ends up tangling underfoot, directed away by other children into proving himself brave enough to be part of their circle by entering the 'forbidden grounds' that everyone avoids. And Obito, with all the wisdom of a five year-old child, ran headlong into this without so much as a by your leave.

This is the beginning: A little boy holds out his hand to a bewildered young cousin and asks her to play with him. The friendship that his actions kindle flickers, blooms, blazes with the intensity of a thousand suns–

And there is no other way this tale will end but in fire. You'll see.

But for now, we're missing another character in this idyllic image, and he doesn't come along until much, much later –forever and ever in the eyes of children, a single year to the minds of adults, the blink of an eye hidden in eternity to the perspective of a fractured mind broken beyond repair.

He is–

"Such an asshole! Madoka-chan, can you believe that arrogant nerve of his? Acting all high and mighty just because he can– Hatake Kakashi, I swear I will defeat you one day, or my name isn't Uchiha Obito!"

Puffed out cheeks, red face, a scowl that is no longer an impetuous, impish pout. I still remember that look on his face, and the urge to repress a small smile from creeping over my lips. Obito had never been capable of giving stellar performance during clan training from what I know, but it wasn't until entering the academy and ranking at the bottom of the class that people truly started giving him the cold shoulder. Yet he never gave up, always kept on striving to better himself –because he had a goal, and that goal was to beat the top student of the class, Hatake Kakashi.

Easier said than done, of course, and that goal was one he never quite managed to accomplish during our academy days. Because Kakashi, genius that he is, graduated within the year, and Obito was left without his greatest rival… even if it happened to be an extremely one-sided rivalry that was viewed more as a joke by most people than true rivalry.

Deep breaths, forcibly calming himself down. Then turning and smiling at the quiet little cousin a year below him in the academy, and asking her how her day went. And maybe she'd be interested in painting mean old Sayu-obaa-san's house hot pink sometime later this week?

Even cranky old ladies still have a good set of lungs on them when they're surprised, I'll tell you that.

… The expression on Obito's face when we were forced to clean up the mess and he found out that I did my part of the job not with actual paint but by applying genjutsu instead was priceless.

Maybe it's due to ojii-san's influence, but I've always had a knack for genjutsu. Always.

"You're mean, Madoka-chan."

"Thank you for the compliment."

"…"

Ah, those were the happy days, innocent and carefree even if it didn't entirely seem so at the time. But I digress; golden days never last as long as people like, because there is no eternity in reality even if reality is its own sort of eternity wrought upon the sun and stars.

I mentioned a catalyst earlier. A turning point, when everything started to become undone. Not entirely, because there is still hope, and we can still fix things, but… this is how it starts, this is how things start falling apart.

Spring.

A new year, ash-pale cherry blossoms fluttering softly in the light wind, gentler than the trembling breath of a young maiden's sigh. Dewey blades of grass recovering from sickly yellow into vibrant green again, the bright verdant shade that is overlooked and taken for granted any time, all the time. There had been a few clouds in the sky that day, white and puffy and cheerful and, in hindsight, utterly ironic, because the sky is the typical blue sky of a crisp spring day and spring implies hope and happiness and life.

Utterly ironic, I say. It's utterly ironic, because it is on a day like this that our tragedy begins, and this is the critical point, the crucial point, the turning point, lynchpin, even if not necessarily the entire reason why–

This is her name: Nohara Rin.

Uchiha Obito meets Nohara Rin on a clear spring day when the cherry blossoms are in bloom, and this is the beginning of a tale that can and will only ever have one ending, even if all of us had been blissfully ignorant and pitifully oblivious at the time of what the future held in store for us all.

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(It starts with flames, and so it will end in fire, too. Only from the ashes of destruction can something new, something good be born, particularly in lieu of the fact that there is no turning back anymore.

There is no more turning back.)

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…

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Author's Notes:

… Aaaaand after another impromptu hiatus, I'm back with a new story, more fooling around with the writing here. I think I'm starting to see a pattern in my writing process here…

(Cough) Anyways.

Welcome to daisies, everyone! This should be a fairly short story, I think. Hopefully the first chapter was somewhat enjoyable if you've managed to bear through with the writing to this point. The rampage of several plot bunnies + urge to relieve college stress + feeling guilty over lack of updates = daisies. Voila. Haven't mucked around in the Naruto fandom for awhile, so this should be fun.

… And messy. Can't forget the messy.

Several experimental elements are included in the writing as already mentioned above, so feedback on what you liked or what could use some improvement would be very helpful and very much appreciated.

Please don't take this as a blanket invitation to start needling me about every little discrepancy in the timeline, though; I know there are going to be discrepancies in the timeline. For example: Kakashi graduates with Obito and Rin (apparently) in the manga, but he also becomes a genin at five and chuunin at six, then gets Obito and Rin as teammates when he's already been training with Minato, and they're still all the same age?

So… I'll be putting things my way, and apologies if I offend anyone's delicate sensitivities if I don't stick religiously to the details of the manga timeline, whatever they happen to be. In my version of events, Obito and Rin and the others all enter the Academy at age six, and Kakashi enters with them a year younger, but graduates ahead of all of them. Since apparently he's a genin at five.

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QUESTION: On a scale of 1 to 10 with 1 being 'wtf did I just read' and 10 being 'love it,' how confusing or engaging did you find this narrative style, and what would you like to see more of in later chapters? Because later chapters should be getting better, I think. Maybe.

Not quite sure when I'll be getting around to updating my other stories or even when I'll be able to update this one next, only that nothing is going to be getting abandoned anytime soon. Worst case scenario, all hopes will be pinned on summer break. Kind of in the mood to be working on the next chapter of my Tokyo Ghoul fic, but I don't think I have the time for that. (Flips table with a wail of despair.)

Till next time,

XxZuiliu