Notes/Warnings: canon-typical violence, subtle attempts at brainwashing, all the terrible crap that comes with being in ROOT (nothing too graphic, I promise), angst with a happy ending. This is basically a study in ROOT, plus a ton of AU elements- long story short, ROOT is the only thing still wrong in this world. Everyone else is alive and happy, only the protagonist and his teammates are suffering. sorry not sorry

Pairings: main pairings to be revealed, but other than that there's Sakumo/Orochimaru, Kakashi/Obito, Tsunade/Dan, Kushina/Minato, and other implied or ambiguous pairings.

["Daisy"- Innocence; Loyal Love; I'll Never Tell]

The memories came to him gradually. It was almost unnoticeable, honestly. Simple things, like the feeling of wind blowing through his hair, the gentle sound of rain falling outside his bedroom window.

He'd never had a window in his quarters. The ROOT base was underground.

He didn't really think anything of it. Perhaps they were memories from when he was little, before his mother had died and Danzo-sama took him in. Childhood things that he'd merely forgotten in his rush to fit in more training, be more useful to the man who'd saved his life.

But when his training began to get more intense, more combat-heavy, he knew something was wrong. Well, not wrong, but certainly strange.

When going through his katas, sometimes his feet would slip, falling into patterns he didn't know and had no recollection of learning. His rigid movements would shift into smooth glides, his kicks slicing through the air with more dramatic flair than actual power.

"Dancing," Senpai told him flatly, in the same monotone voice they always addressed him with. "You're dancing."

"I... don't understand," he said carefully, trying not to overtly display his ignorance. "What is 'dancing'?"

Senpai didn't even blink at this show of foolishness, methodically explaining the purpose and typical usage behind this... 'dancing'.

"It is for show," they said, "meant to attract an audience's attention and distract them from the rest of their environment. It can be used as a form of seduction as well. While not typical for our unit, some shinobi are sent on undercover missions in which they have to pretend they are dancers. Particularly Kunoichi, as they can more easily pose as a Geisha and the like."

He nodded in understanding, biting his tongue in order to prevent himself from asking a hundred more questions. While asking for clarification about orders and techniques was encouraged, badgering your superior officer about inane topics was not.

"However," Senpai continued, looking at him in a way he might have described as curiosity if he didn't know better, "I have never seen dancing like yours. The movements are quite... strange."

A surge of indignation welled up in him at that, to his own surprise. He quickly squashed it down, taking care not to let any of his inner battle reflect itself on his face.

Senpai walked around him in a quick circle, blood-red sharingan whirling lazily in their eyes.

"Typically, dancing is done in long, graceful movements. It can be fast, but most professional dances are slow and lethargic. Kabuki dancers are, of course, the exception to that rule. But your dancing is not like that. You are quick, sharp. Your body and movements become smooth, but your steps are small and controlled. I have not encountered this style before."

They stopped in front of him, staring at him with that same unnerving gaze. Sometimes it felt like they were looking right through him. Like he didn't even exist.

"I'll teach you to suppress it," they said finally, tearing their eyes away to continue their pacing. "We can't afford for you to be a liability on the field."

His cheeks flushed with shame, inwardly cursing how this fairer skin didn't do nearly as good a job of masking his blush as his darker skin had before.

At that, he paused. What? His skin had always been like this- he was Asian, for god's sake!

Wait. What the fuck was an Asian? For that matter, what was latino brazilian america car plane flying falling-

"Enough!" his Senpai said sharply, cutting through his haze of confusion. "Get up!"

Belatedly, he realized he'd fallen to his knees. His head was spinning, he could barely breath through the sudden mental strain, and the world seemed fuzzy around the edges, like- what was it called?

Panic attack, came the low whisper, just breathe.

He struggled to follow the order, keeping his eyes trained on Senpai's tense form. They were watching him carefully, not crowding in or trying to shut him up again.

Breathe! His mind screamed. Breath, breath, breath, breathe, we can't die again-

He took a shuddering breath, then another. One after the other, more and more until he was finally breathing normally. He looked up, biting his lip. Senpai was probably very angry...

"You're fine," Senpai informed him stoically, almost daring him to question it.

"Yes," he agreed, sucking in another deep breath. He had to get himself under control. Danzo-sama was expecting a progress report that afternoon- he couldn't mess this up. "My apologies, Senpai, I didn't mean to-"

"Forget it," They interrupted, eyes narrowing in an expression that he couldn't really interpret. Upon noticing his confused face (even though he had tried to mask it as quick as he could), they almost seemed to soften. "I mean that. I won't mention it if you won't."

He could only stare at them in shock. "Senpai...?"

I've never seen you so emotional, he wanted to say, and almost bit his tongue holding it back. That seemed to always be the case. One question answered, another fifty brought to light.

Awkwardly, Senpai grinned at him. It was a clumsy, quavering thing, but it evoked a warm feeling deep inside of him, something both familiar and alien all at once.

"Don't worry, 01604," they assured. "I'll protect you."

He felt tears welling up in his eyes, and he didn't know why. How come this seemed so important, suddenly? What was Senpai protecting him from?

"Yes, Senpai," he murmured complacently.

Go along with it for now, that same voice urged. You'll find your answers.

/=\

"Danzo-sama," he said reverently, bowing the deepest his sore muscles would allow. The elder gave him a small smile, the expression pulling at the scars on his face. It should have been intimidating, but it was only comforting.

Danzo-sama had long been the one true consistency in this life, always there with an encouraging word or gentle reprimand. Even Senpai, who he longed to impress, had only been training him for a short time.

"01604," Danzo nodded in greeting. "Izumi has told me of your progress. You have been improving at great lengths, especially since you only started this intensive practice a year and a half ago. I'm certain you'll be ready for full combat in only a few short months."

He resisted the urge to beam, and risked darting a glance at his Senpai. Their face was blank once more, but there was a certain light to their eyes that had nothing to do with the sharingan. Despite the slight happiness he could sense, there was a line of tension to their shoulders.

"Thank you Danzo-sama," he demurred, "I had extremely competent teachers. I hope to do ROOT proud in my field work."

"I have no doubt you will," Danzo said distractedly, turning away to look into the distance.

He could almost see the barest tendrils of light at the end of the long series of tunnels that was his home, and something about that made him itch and want to rip off his skin, but he reigned it in. His hero, the man who had saved his life and given him something to believe in was right there, and he hadn't finished talking.

"You'll do great things with us, boy," he said. "And I will accept nothing less. Potential like yours is not something to be wasted."

"Yes sir," the soldier echoed, a faint mixture of excitement and pride settling in his stomach at the words. He couldn't be bear to let Danzo-sama down, let ROOT down.

He would train. Train until his body followed his every command, until he was the perfect soldier this village needed- no, the soldier they deserved.

After all, the greatest lights cast the deepest shadows. And it was his job to make sure that any who tried to take advantage of this village's brightness would face the consequences of invoking the wrath of the greatest of the Hidden Villages.

(Something in the back of his mind was screaming. It always was. But he could never understand it, and wouldn't listen even if he did. He had no time for hazy half-dreams, not when he should have been training, getting stronger. The screams got stronger too, louder with every day that passed, still going on in that language he could almost decipher. He ignored it. There were more important things to do.)