((A/N: Hello! Here is the next chappie. Gonna go into the review responses and then jump straight into the chapter. As I said, trying to cut back on the super long A/Ns.

Guest - You made some good points. First of all, it actually was a mistake that I said they grabbed the bells and not their hitai-ates that he took from them, so I went back and fixed that. Thanks for pointing it out! I only gave Hana one dog instead of three, for the same reason I only gave Rae one coyote and not all seven. I just figured it would be a little unfair, so I cut down on their extra help. And I know I didn't write this into the story so it makes perfect sense that you're confused on it, but I imagined that Rae already sent Umi back after she took the test, because that was the only part that she needed the support for. Again, thank you for pointing these things out to me!

Many. luzader - Thank you so much! Gah I need to go and reread my whole story from start to finish too so I can remember every little detail I put in for future reference. Here's the next chapter, I hope you enjoy!

DannyPhantom619 - thank you so much! Surprisingly enough, I don't think I've ever got a flame on this story! I've gotten criticism, but it was all polite and nice stuff. I really am so lucky to have such nice reviewers!

Readthishit - He didn't necessarily let them take the bells, more along the lines of his PTSD distracted him enough that they were able to take it from him without him noticing. If it had been a real fight, they would have lost for damn sure. I wasn't planning on making him scold them for that, as I tried to make it clear in the last chapter but if I hadn't made it clear I apologize! But basically they all created a plan together, where Hana and Kazue would distract Kakashi while Rae came from above, then she would distract him because she was closest to his skill level with taijutsu, and the others would take a bell. Once she was sure they got the bells, she left. Once again, I apologize if I hadn't made that clear in the last chapter.

Kayumeee - I'm glad you love the forehead poke! It's one of my favorite features about Itachi's personality, not gonna lie. I'll probably write in a few more pokes before the fated night…

Sleepycatgirl - Thank you so much oh gosh! I pride myself on trying to be able to write characters as canon as I can get while still staying true to my own world and where they're at emotionally and mentally. It's not crazy at all to say that you like my writing! Referencing how you said you couldn't believe you missed the little details from earlier chapters - there is one sentence in particular in the last chapter that basically gives away a HUGE plot twist in the story (: It's just one sentence though and I'm not telling you which one. Thank you so much. Your review was honestly so sweet. And yeah, I can see that my writing style has changed quite a bit since I started this story, especially as I learn more about writing.

Thanks for all of your kind reviews! Hope you enjoy the chapter! It's a little darker than most, but oh well. The happy times have to end at some point, right?))

Rae sat in the center of her plush bed, her blankets all kicked off to the sides as she simply sat in silence. It was late now, already dark out. She'd eaten dinner with her father and Jirouko, full of simple conversation, awful jokes, and questions about training.

They'd also brought up the topic of Jirouko and his skill at speaking. He often spoke simple words like "no" or "bye-bye", but other than that he didn't say much. Kazuhiko stated that he wasn't worried, that she had been the same way and hadn't spoken much when she was younger. Perhaps Jirouko would grow into his words, then.

She crossed her legs over each other in her bed.

Speaking with her father, or just being around him in general, was getting easier and easier. It really seemed less like a group of strangers and more like a… dysfunctional family at the moment. Her father was actually being supportive of her now, although he is constantly worrying over how much she trains. Jirouko was the happiest little bundle of joy in the world, as always.

Jirou could stomp his feet now when he got upset, but he was still learning how to properly walk without falling over. At the moment he could probably run across the kitchen and living room before falling over and calling for someone to pick him up. Kazuhiko reminds her that, as much as she wants to, she can't go to his aid every time she wants to. He needs to learn to get up on his own again, not relying on her too much. She had wanted to get mad at him and tell him that he should be helping as much as he could, but Jirou had looked around for a bit, noticed nobody would come pick him up, and then simply stopped crying and stood back up on his own.

And then there was Emiko.

Rae hadn't even seen Emiko for a long while now. Kazuhiko assures her that she's doing fine, that he talks to her every day and makes sure she and the baby are both healthy and happy - she doubted Emiko was happy but she'd take his word for it.

At the time, Rae hadn't cared at all that Emiko had begun drawing away when she got back, but looking back on it now… It was odd. Emiko had no reason to act in such a way. Of course, her daughter had amnesia and was throwing a massive fit, but Kazuhiko handled it well so what made her draw away the way she had?

She didn't want to necessarily fix her relationship with Emiko. Her relationship with her birth mother had probably been too severed at this point, and she no longer wanted to have a good air with her.

It was still unsettling, however, when Emiko would look at her like she was a stranger.

Rae sighed quietly into the dark room. Her blankets were soft, the bed solid enough to be comfortable, the temperature was a perfect balance, and she was full from a delicious dinner that her father helped make - and Jirou had tried to help with but he had just ended up throwing an egg on the ground - so why couldn't she sleep?

She leaned forward, putting her elbows on her knees and shutting her eyes in thought.

There were too many things to think about.

Her father. Her mother. Her brother Jirou, and the brother to be born in a short amount of time. Her friend Itachi, whom she hadn't seen in a while either. All the young children she adored and who adored her back. Her new team. The chuunin exams coming up. Her first D-ranked mission would be in a day or so, Kakashi had told her and her team as much. She knew it would only have to do with menial tasks, like babysitting or pulling weeds, but she was still excited to accomplish any sort of mission as a real Shinobi.

There was also the idea that the Chuunin exams would be in Suna, and that if she and her team made it into the exam, she could go home… She could see them again.

She finally laid back, pulling her blanket up to her chin and curled in on herself on her side. Looking out of the dark window, her eyes slowly closed shut.

Too many things to think about.

Everything is dark, shrouded in fog. I feel damp, cool grass on my knees and arms. I'm crouching, or laying on the ground. It must have rained recently.

I can't see too far. The area around me looks like it could be a forest of some kind, but my head won't respond to the orders I'm giving it to look up, to look at my surroundings. It's as if I'm looking through somebody else's eyes, seeing and feeling everything for myself but being unable to control the body.

As such, the body I'm in - the eyes I'm looking through - began to move on their own accord.

I'm panting - or hyperventilating. Quick breaths come from my mouth - the mouth of the body I am trapped in. I look down at the ground, my eyes become blurry for a moment before I see drops of liquid falling onto the ground under me.

My hands are soaked in red.

These hands are small and pale, the hands of a young child - maybe seven or eight years old. There is blood on them, mixed with the mud from the damp ground.

There is a knife on the ground besides the red, red hands. Not a kunai, not a weapon meant to hurt. A kitchen knife, grabbed from the knife block in somebody's home. The blade, once silver and sharp, was coated in red, flakes of it falling off of the handle.

More tears fall, and the head turns to the left. There is another hand there, bigger than mine. It's on the ground motionless, attached to a pale, pale body that I can't see. Blue sleeves stop at the wrist, blood pooling around the hand, still spreading out as if the heinous deed done here had just happened. My hands do not feel warm, the blood on them cold and clammy.

More tears, shaking breaths. I feel like I'm going to vomit. My head looks away from the body, too terrified to look at its' face. I don't catch a glimpse of the person's face and I don't know who it is.

My breathing gets worse, quicker and shallower until I feel like I will pass out. I take in one deep breath, clutch my small pale hands into the red soaked ground underneath me, and I scream. I scream until my lungs ache and my throat burns. I scream everything I feel into the muddy, bloody ground, expecting the insects below to take my emotions. To take them from me so I don't have to feel them.

My scream comes to an end, and I take in another aching breath despite the protest from my burning lungs, but before I can scream again, I am interrupted.

"My, my," a smooth, calm voice speaks. It's too familiar but not familiar at all. I want to scream again, too many emotions running through me - through the not me - to handle, all of it jumbling together into one big mess that I - we, it, you - can't understand.

"Don't cry, little girl."

My eyes turn to look, searching for the voice that I can't place. I see feet approaching, their footsteps soft and silent when they should be making noise. Shinobi sandals, grey-green instead of blue, wrapped up ankles, muted grey pants. Raising just a little higher, I see the ends of a yellow-tan cloth ending above the knees. I don't look any further, and I start crying all over again.

"I can take the pain away."

And I believe him.

Blue-red eyes shoot open wide, and for a moment Rae couldn't breathe. The image of the small, pale hands soaked in red and clutching at a kitchen knife were etched into her eyelids, and she was afraid to blink for a while. White-hot fear shot through her, and she didn't understand why. It was just a dream, just her twisted imagination. It couldn't hurt her.

She laid still in her bed for a while longer anyway. Unmoving, her face half buried under her blankets that now felt too hot, too itchy against her skin. The fabric was annoying.

She turned over onto her back, looking at the alarm clock beside her bed after a long while of uncomfortable silence.

It's three o'clock in the morning. Pitch black outside, darker than seemingly possible. She felt too hot, too cold at the same time. She kicked the blankets off of herself, too aware of every little scratchy sensation she felt on her clammy skin. She raised her hand above her face, staring.

It was too dark to see, her eyes unaccustomed to the darkness just yet, but she could see the outline of her hand in front of herself. When she couldn't make out the entirety of her hand, her mind filled in the blanks. Red, red hands filled her vision. She shut her eyes, inhaled deeply, and opened them again.

Red, red hands.

She let out a choked sob, clutching her hand into a fist to get rid of the image. She sat up, eyes wide and teary as she looked around her room with little to no vision in the darkness. Shadows everywhere, darkness with no solid form reaching out at her.

She grabs her blanket and wraps herself in it to the best of her ability, as if reverting back to the childish thought that a piece of fabric would stop the monsters from getting to her. Shaking and crying, she reaches her clenched fist up to her face. She bites down on her hand, a little too hard. She knows she doesn't need to draw that much blood, but she doesn't care at the moment. She can deal with the injury in the morning.

She reaches out and places her bloody, trembling hand against her bed sheets. A quiet whisper, a plea for help, and there is smoke filling the room.

It disappears, and Roba stands in its' place.

Rae hadn't even meant to summon him in particular. She'd wanted her summons to be there, to comfort her and to help her be rid of these imaginary enemies haunting her mind, but she hadn't had any of them in particular in mind. Her hand, bleeding from her own self-inflicted wound, clutches the sheets, her other hand wrapped around her knees as she stares up at the huge coyote with wide, fearful eyes.

Why had she summoned Roba?

He doesn't look surprised, or angry for being summoned here in the middle of the night. He looked like he'd been expecting something like this. He lets out a gruff sigh from his mouth, shaking his large head momentarily as if shaking some dirt from his ears, then leans down to place his cold snout against her forehead.

"You wanted strength," he murmurs, answering her unasked question. "I can give that to you."

She doesn't stop the next tears from slipping past her lashes, crying quietly in the dark as she reaches up and holds onto the coyote twice her size. He doesn't stop her or tell her to let go of him, simply sitting down at the edge of her bed and letting her vent her fears into his fur. His fur, she noticed, was coarse and rough, and she couldn't help but think of all the blood that must have dried into his brown locks throughout the years.

"Why is this happening?" She asks in a meek, quiet voice. Roba almost wants to seem surprised, as he knew his new summoner had never been the quiet or meek type, but he isn't really surprised. He knew this day would come eventually. The day when any young pup had to learn the truth about bloodshed and war.

He knew it was especially hard for human pups to learn, as coyotes were taught the art of the hunt from a very young age and were never afraid to shed the blood of their enemies. Humans, he knew, were taught the opposite - taught that blood was something to be preserved, that life was special and meant to be protected during times of war and hardship.

"Were they my hands?" She asks in a shaky voice, no explanation following after for her question. "Did I do that? Did I… kill somebody?"

He took a deep inhale through his wet nose, laying down beside the small girl. She really was so small once he looked at her from a different light, a different angle than the usual rough and tumble girl he'd met all those months ago. Her bed creaked with his weight, and she curled closer to him, seeking his heat and warmth.

"Everyone must learn," he began, his voice as gravelly and deep as the first time he'd spoken to her. "What it means to be a fighter."

She didn't look up at him, but he knew he had her full attention.

"You think of a fighter as someone who can defeat an enemy. You think of fighters as people who can win victories for their home and people, and can secure the safety of their loved ones. These qualities are important in a fighter, yes, but they are not what creates one. What creates a fighter is their mind and their heart.

"Their mind, full of intellect and wisdom, is what tells them what is acceptable on the battlefield or not. I believe you humans call this honor. Their heart tells them how to handle the thought of what they do, or what they must do. Your heart tells you whether you can live with yourself after the deed is done."

There is a brief moment of silence as Rae digests this information, then he continues.

"If your mind tells you what to do and your heart does not agree, then you are disconnected. You are broken and torn. A fighter who becomes disconnected cannot continue to be a fighter, for their mind and their heart can no longer work together and they become unstable."

He leans down to press his nose against her cheek, something he hoped was a comforting gesture for a human pup. He may be a rough warrior with plenty of scars and bloody tales to show for it, but he was still a father of seven and knew how to comfort a pup in need.

"This, now? This is your path to choosing whether you will become disconnected or stay whole. If it was you who took a life, then your mind told you what to do. Whether your heart agreed or not, I do not know. I don't know what happened or the details around why you did it. I suspect that neither do you."

She shook her head silently, but she knew she didn't need to. He already knew the answer. Her eyes feel heavier the longer he speaks, his warmth surrounding her as she finds comfort in his words. She leans into him, closing her eyes. She doesn't miss his final words before she falls asleep again.

"It is your choice entirely where to go from here."

((A/N: Earlier today I sat down and just wrote out the whole storyline for this story. Plot, characters, twists, backstories, and all. So from now on I won't really be 'writing blind'. And boy oh boy, do I have some plans cooked up now that I know what I'm doing.

I'll be making small changes to previous chapters because of this. There were a few plot holes in previous chapters that I never noticed until reading it back now, so I'll be re-writing those. Nothing big will change so there's no need to go back and reread any of it, it'll just be small details to fix up some holes, spelling mistakes, or bad grammar.

Also, this story will be split into two parts. This first part - The Higher We Climb - is about her learning about herself and who she is. I will find a good place to end this story off at(probably a cliffhanger, let's be real here), then I'm going to make the sequel to the story called The Harder We Fall, which will start from where this story ends off. I have a planned ending, too. Anyway, sorry for the long ending A/N, but I figured I would share this.

Thanks for reading!))