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Her first memory was of pain and discomfort. It was strange, blurred, and unclear, but it was hers nonetheless. Everything hurt.Too-bright light and too-loud sounds tore painfully into her brain, digging its claws in deep and refusing to let go, to let her drift in peace until she was nothing. It felt like it lasted forever. An eternity spent at the cusp of suffering. Awareness was pain, her barely-conscious mind begging for release, sniveling and whimpering and bawling—And then she was sobbing and wailing, the sound of her own cries piercing her ears because she was awake and alive, breathing and feeling as cognizant thought slipped past her fingers like sand. She seized it with the desperation of a drowning man, grappling nd struggling even as fatigue set in. Holding on was like fighting the force of gravity, inevitable in its victory, but she refused to let go.She didn't want to know the consequences of doing otherwise.Then, after she strained and strained for however long it lasted, the shifting of her thoughts finally felt no longer like slogging through mud reaching above her knees. And she could see.Acutely see and breathe and feel and hear everything.And slowly, seeing through eyes that were hers, blinking through an exhaustion that penetrated her bones, she caught sight of three carved faces staring out from a mountainside. It took some time for her to realize it at first. Recognition came slowly, with the dullness of her mind. An odd thought process of sifting through distant memories that felt more like wading through deep snow. A quiet deliberation over the sense of almost-déjà vu that refused to leave.Days turned into weeks, then months. And somewhere, somehow, she knew—A manga.A shōnen manga.A shōnen manga set in a fantastical world with ninja and chakra called— Na-ru-to.Naruto.Naruto.Her world stuttered and tilted. For a second, the sharp throbbing of her senses took a backseat.Magic, fantasy, different dimensions, the stuff of fiction and storybooks, the products of the never-ending human imagination—they weren't possible. Ideas of reincarnation could be granted leeway—but the multiverse? The idea that everything and anything was real and happening—the world didn't work like that—Under the crashing foundations of her beliefs, those three faces—all of which had no business being real—remained as steady and unchanging as ever under her gaze, as if they hadn’t just flipped her entire worldview in just an instant. If she stared a bit harder, it almost seemed like they were saying fuck you and that happy life you’ve always wanted.And, fueled by rage and denial, she screamed, awareness snapping under the weight of impossibility.She didn’t remember much after that. Apparently, her name was Izumi.Uchiha Izumi.An unimportant little girl in an unimportant little clan, in the large scheme of things.(The Uchiha clan had been entirely wiped out by the time canon had come rolling around. A clan of hundreds of people, one of the strongest of Konoha—reduced to nothing more than a footnote. Didn't that bode well for her own future?)It was a double edged blade—being a baby. All the time in the world to wallow in her own thoughts, all the time to drown in regrets. Denial came, at first. At the idea of reincarnation. At living in a completely fictional world. At dying.She had never felt the five stages of grief so acutely. Every second of every minute spent awake was just more time to mourn the might-have-beens and what-ifs. (What if she'd driven a bit slower? What if she'd left earlier? What if—)Or was this all a part of her elaborate imagination as she lay dying in a hospital or a mental ward?No.No, no, no. That wasn't possible. She was alive. She was conscious. She could feel and taste and see and hear and—(This was real. This wasn't a dream.)This was a new chance at life. A privilege, to be granted a reincarnation under fortunate circumstances. (It felt so restrictive. Like a confined little box of expectations that grew smaller and smaller until she no longer had the freedom to make her own choices.)It didn't feel like a blessing. (She'd died so young. What about her friends, her family? She’ll never see them again. Why did she have to die?)It felt like a curse. Somedays, she submerged herself in disillusioned thoughts, staying as reticent as she could.
Why was she reincarnated if she was destined to amount to nothing?
Sluggish limbs ached with phantom pains and muted senses dulled her grief. It was during those days that she felt pity for her new parents, in the few times she was able to dredge up the sympathy. She already knew how unusual of a child she was.Her parents cradled her like she was something precious, stared at her with loving gazes, and whispered so affectionately. The worry and concern blaring so clearly from them left her suffocating in guilt.They were never supposed to get her. Uchiha Izumi was meant to be a bright-eyed, joyous girl who didn't have a lifetime of memories kicking in her head.If there was one thing she knew with a bone-deep certainty, it was that she was not Uchiha Izumi.She wondered if she’d robbed the original Izumi of this life—if she’d yanked this from the hands of a poor girl who deserved it far more than she did—with their parents none the wiser.Those were not happy days. “I don’t understand,” the woman—her mother—murmured quietly, dark rings under weary eyes. "What am I doing wrong?”The man consoled his wife.Peeking out from the hallway of the house, a girl (so dull, so distant, so quiet) stared.She seized all the sorrow, dejection—all that stupid self-pity—and shoved it into the locked room in the back of her mind.Unspoken apologies laid, unbidden, on her tongue.But careful avoidance really worked like a charm, didn't it? As long as she never thought of it, the problem would never exist.   “This says that you can use chakra to walk on walls and on water!" Izumi announced, raising her head from her book in the picture perfect image of innocent curiosity that she had down pat. "Can you do it on air too?”Uchiha Chiako sighed from across the room, clearly exhausted and unsuited to Izumi’s antics. A narrow glance towards her father—Uchiha Arata—conveyed all that needed to be said, and he took up his newly assigned job with a respectable amount of grace—impressive, really, for the kinds of looks Izumi's mother could make.“No, Izumi." Her father slid into into the chair beside her, a smile set across his face. “Unfortunately, we have yet to discover how to walk on air.” Izumi hummed. What a shame.“Chakra Theory: Intermediate?" her father said, leaning forward. "That's a rather complicated reading for someone your age, isn't it?”It took a second to mull over the proper response, but Izumi had never been a good liar towards her father. "Yes," she settled on, "but I can understand it with a dictionary!" "A dictionary?" With an expression of mock surprise—Izumi could tell. He loved teasing her like this—her father ran a warm hand against her hair. "To think our daughter could read and understand these advanced books—Izumi, keep up the good work!"A quick peek at his chakra told her he was genuine in his compliment, if only turning up the act of shock to eleven. It was all Izumi needed to flush, a giddy warmth spreading through her core—if he kept it up, she might actually develop an ego the size of the ocean. And because Izumi was a good child with no need for excessive egotism, she said, "Tou-san, you're overreacting again! If you want to act like this, save it for when I actually graduate."Her father chuckled. "You haven't even entered the academy, yet you're already dreaming of graduating," her mother drawled dully, carelessly sprawled over their couch. "Impressive."She was really too snarky within the private comforts of their home.Izumi pouted. "I'm just preparing for the future, like good shinobi are supposed to do!" It was easy to fall into the natural banter that made up their family life—easier than expected, honestly.Izumi didn’t quite know what to expect in her second go-around with career assassins for parents, but so far, they were absolute delights who, in all honesty, blew her expectations out of the water. Granted, she had a low bar for measure, but it still mattered.To her, it mattered a lot. “Since you understand the basics, this is a more advanced chakra control exercise you can practice. Remember, you can only do this with proper supervision,” her father emphasized, sitting cross-legged on their tatami flooring.The rocks on his palm floated upwards and remained hovering.Izumi thoughts scrambled. Chakra truly was something else. Knowing it was one thing; seeing it was another. Talk about easily and carelessly defying the laws of physics—chakra was both amazing and agonizing for that.“You must expel a set amount of chakra from your palm to raise the rocks, and then continue to expel that amount to ensure they float."Izumi followed along, scrutinizing the tiny pebble—absolutely miniscule, barely even weighing anything—in her palm contemplatively, and then her father's. As the theory went, sticking to leaves and other objects involved focusing chakra to a surface, the basics of chakra control. Keeping objects floating involved expelling chakra from certain tenketsu in a controlled manner, which was practice for performing jutsu.The key to all of this was visualizing it, her father had said. Then, like with most things, she would get better with practice.Well, there was nowhere to go but up.The network of chakra coils running up and down her arms was distinctive enough to be found swiftly. Closing her eyes, Izumi cautiously pushed chakra from her hand, starting with just a trickle to gradually adding more and more. The weight on her palm lessened, and her eyes flicked open to stare at—Her handle on her chakra slipped. The pebble wavered and plopped back down."Close," he encouraged. “Try again, and keep on focusing when you open your eyes.”Izumi obeyed, and it was far easier now that she knew what to expect. She grasped the familiar flow of warmth, pushing and pulling until it streamed into a contained dribble towards her palm. Down, down, down it went, like a cascading river.One second passed. Maybe more.But when she finally opened her eyes, a single rock, wobbly but floating just barely above her hand, greeted her vision. Izumi’s lips curled into a grin, the thrill from her success already jolting up her spine. To the side, she felt her father’s crackly chakra swell with pride.“Good job! You got it far quicker than I expected,” he said, smile gaining a tinge of mischief that sent alarm bells blaring in her head. Considering the previous times he'd worn such an expression, Izumi felt a creeping dread. "Now, practice until you can do it subconsciously.”She groaned. Like her fading anticipation, the pebble dropped back into her hand, dead limp. If it were any deader, she'd feel the obligation to toss it down a ditch along with all her hopes and dreams.Dramatic, she knew, but no less true.Acting like a child came with a certain sense of ease, these days. It was easy to get lost in, and no longer faked. Izumi latched onto his yukata and stared at him with wide, watery eyes. “How about teaching me tree walking first?”“I’m not letting you climb all around the house once you learn that, you little rascal,” her father countered, punctuating the statement with a quick ruffle of her hair.From him, it was the exact equivalent to an adamant refusal. And if her father refused to, her mother obviously would as well. Izumi's hope died abruptly, swallowed by her father and his blatant amusement.How unfair.But Izumi wouldn't be Izumi if she conceded defeat from such a simple obstacle. Boo hoo, her father refused to teach her. Too bad that he wasn't the only option.Izumi herself understood the theory just fine, with plenty of information from some texts and a first-hand viewing Team 7's first attempts at tree walking. While her recollection the latter was spotty, knowledge was still knowledge. The next step was just practice.Practice which, technically speaking, could be done alone.In her room, Izumi thoughtfully bounced the idea around. She already knew the steps needed to properly control chakra, and her meager four-year-old reserves were too paltry to ever damage the walls. Really, the only danger was botching up the landing badly enough to cause serious injury, but...her, unable to land from a controlled fall of a few feet?If that actually happened Izumi would revoke ever wanting to become a shinobi out of pure embarrassment. She was totally going for it, parental supervision or consent be damned. Izumi started in the comfort of her bed, prodding at her core in its imaginative glory and directing her chakra similarly to before, but this time holding it at the surface of her hands instead of expelling it. It was warm. Really warm, traveling through her arm smoother and easier than she expected, bending to her whims like putty.Did putty even exist in this shinobi world?...She had better things to think about.She pressed her hands up against the walls and tugged. They didn't budge. Yanking them, however, had her nearly tripping over her feet from the sudden release of resistance.Not enough chakra, then. Izumi focused, added a bit more, and then persisted in her attempts.It was repetitive, but no less exciting, and a few trials in, she had just enough control to hang off the walls with only hands. By then, she deemed it safe enough to switch to her feet.Since Izumi had less experience manipulating the chakra there, it was a bit trickier and less obedient, but a few experimental attempts had the energy settling comfortably. It felt nicely warm, not too much so, as she slowly guided it down to the soles of her feet. Once she found the correct amount, it was a quick job of latching her chakra onto the walls and—success.Izumi snickered quietly, a flicker of a memory having left an unforgettable song in her mind—in the span of one night, she’d managed to defy gravity.Hah.She buried her excitement under blankets and pillows, expressing her joy as quietly as she could. Her parents were probably asleep.The next day, Izumi climbed across walls and ceilings in proud resemblance to a lizard. Arata had no qualms bursting into laughter.From her gravity-defying position in the upper corner of the living room, she could see her mother's shoulders shake silently, her incandescent chakra radiating amusement.“Kaa-san,” Izumi called, “I know you’re laughing!”The years-long war of attrition claiming thousands of lives may have left a cloud of gloom over the village, but Izumi’s heart felt so warm and whole.  “It’s time for me to leave.” Her father crouched down, pressing a gentle kiss on Izumi’s forehead with a sad sort of smile. “Take care of yourself, and help your kaa-san with whatever she needs, okay?”The glint of his forehead protector shone bitterly bright under the lights of their home. Izumi loathed it with a passion she couldn't explain—hated its worn scratches and its prideful glow and what it represented.She jerked her eyes away from the damning headband, dragging a hand over her runny nose and murmuring an agreement when all she wanted to do was to scream and cry. (Her father was going to survive and come back, damn it all. Everything was fine. Everything would be fine.)It was still difficult to meet his eyes, no matter how many reassurances she told herself. “We could say the same for you.” Resting a comforting hand on Izumi's hair, her mother huffed. She seemed as calm as ever, but Izumi knew better—she'd felt the disquiet and the unease under that undisturbed pond. “Stay safe.” It scared her.It scared them all.“I’ll come back in a few weeks, so wait for me then," her father soothed. "Don’t worry, it’ll be like I never left!”His light tone fell flat in a way they all stubbornly ignored.Izumi opened her arms and looked him straight in the eyes. And with a soft laugh, her father obediently bent under the request, sweeping her into rigid arms. His warmth was relieving, if only for a moment. His final goodbyes were not.In the end, all that remained of his presence were swishing leaves, drifting slowly towards the ground. Burying her face into her mother's soft shirt, Izumi bit back an angry sob.How unfair.The Third Shinobi War raged on in the background, gaping maw indiscriminate in the miserable destruction it wreaked.Konoha needed all the bodies she could get. One day, when her father was out on active duty for anywhere between a few weeks to months—you never knew when it was war—a question struck her.“Kaa-san, you said that Konoha’s desperate to have more frontline shinobi, but why won’t you join?”Her mother blinked from her spot at the dinner table, but answered the question smoothly. “I’ve been rather complacent. My skill level has stagnated, if not gotten worse, and I haven’t kept up much with training after giving birth to you.” She reached to tuck Izumi’s hair behind her ear and smiled so gently that it hurt. It was difficult to look into her mother's soft eyes. “I only work at T&I, and I refused to go to the frontlines because I wouldn’t ever risk orphaning you.”
Oh.
Izumi didn't quite know what to say to that, so she shifted closer and wrapped her tiny arms around her mother's warm waist.It was an obvious answer in hindsight. Both of her parents cared for her far too much to allow the possibility of Izumi having to fend for herself, all alone in the future."What brought this on?" her mother questioned, chopsticks clanking onto porcelain. Izumi shrugged and hummed, cheek still pressed against her mother's shirt.Her mother sighed, but reciprocated the embrace anyway. It was such an easy fact to accept. The sky was blue; grass was green. Both of Izumi's parents loved her so much. In front of them, she could be as inquisitive and philosophical and playful as she wanted. She could ask all kinds of questions and never fear rejection.She knew they'd sooner die than throw her to the wolves of Konoha.Izumi had never felt this free—this loved.This was home.  Her recollection of the Uchiha Massacre was an unwanted one. Toeing the line between batshit insane and what the fuck, its unwanted presence pervaded her daily life for months, all-consuming and insistent. Izumi was well aware that she (not her, but the one in Naruto) had died then, but did both her parents die too? Were they all destined to be brutally culled for having dared be a member of the Uchiha clan—from the polite neighbors who’d coo at her to the innocent, tiny kids she’d played with so often—was this fate?
Fucking Danzo.
Lost in thought, Izumi agonized over her knowledge of the future—and came to a single conclusion. While she knew of the world of Naruto and its future, there was no guarantee that the world she currently lived in would ever play out the same way.As for why?Naruto was written by a very human man, she knew for certain. It was a fascinating story, but it had its own flaws in its characters, plot holes, world building, and more—it was entirely fictional.This new world of Izumi's—it was completely real. These people weren’t black and white drawings on a page, or emotive cartoons on a screen. Every single person was a living being with independent thoughts, feelings, and dreams. The human psyche wasn't something that could ever be fully understood or predicted.Logically, this world of hers shouldn’t match the one of Naruto.Thinking otherwise would be an exercise in futility. She had heard stories about people haunted by prophecies and foreknowledge, toiling tirelessly to avert an outcome, only to have their actions bring about the very event they were trying to avoid.Fate, destiny, and all that what-not—what bullshit. As if she’d ever take them seriously. …But even then, better safe than sorry. Flicking through ink-filled pages, Izumi groaned, rubbing her furrowed brows with smudged hands. She eyed a dubious, drenched-in-black scribble and inwardly thanked her choice of notebook. If it were any other, the ink would’ve already seeped through the pages, marring all her hard work, and then she’d have to start again.Not that she was any close to finishing, but the past few days of her life had been irritatingly chaotic and convoluted.Frustration tugged at her already frayed nerves, and any more would likely end with a very unwanted outburst. Just the thought of having to rewrite everything had her smothering a scream.In just a few years, she’d largely lost touch with her English. Grammar was already a lost cause.At that fact, the well of chagrin within Izumi only grew. She also probably needed more sleep, being a growing child and all, but sleep was for the weak. And she had more important priorities to sort through. At least any code breakers would have the time of their lives if they ever tried to get through her strange nicknames, abbreviations, and awkward writing. Regardless of how good they would be at their job, English (as far as she knew) was not a language here, and they’d need a great deal of luck to ever dream of deciphering her mishmash of information. It didn't matter much. The only thing that did was the fact that she could understand everything clearly and others couldn't.The biggest quandary she’d encountered was actually remembering the events of Naruto. Who even knew exactly when the Uchiha Massacre had occurred? Not Izumi, that was who. Bare bones were just fine, with maybe several unusual details interspersed here and there, but specifics were impossible. She’d all but given up on an accurate timeline, too.Memories were fallible things.If her memories turned out to be true—and wasn't that a disturbing thought—she still had something to fall back on.She hoped it would never be needed.   It felt like a missing limb: there, tingling right at the edge of her senses, but vanishing at the turn of a head. Her father was still at the frontlines, and his presence—his smile, his lessons, his teasing—was sorely missed.No longer was he there to offer piggyback rides, or to indulge in Izumi's vexing behavior. Warm exchanges over the dinner table receded to lukewarm discussions that were, while still enjoyable, lacking a critical component.It wasn't to say that Izumi didn't get along with her mother—Izumi loved her parents more than anything, and she knew they felt the same—but that his departure left a gaping hole that refused to be mended. It ached at times, some days more than others. But she comforted herself with the fact that at least shinobi had yet to knock on their door and offer a scroll and some empty condolences—she wouldn’t look a gift horse in the mouth. Better that his situation was unknown than to have him confirmed KIA, even if her chest tightened a bit at the thought.Knowledge that, while she was basking in the safety of her home, her father was far, far away, fighting for his life in miserable conditions, was not a cure for better sleep. Sometimes, she hated the whimsical touch to her thoughts, for all that it'd assisted her in the most monotonous parts of her life. It only encouraged her questions, only egged on her imagination.It made sure that every minute of every hour, she'd know. She'd know that her father could've died somewhere, suffering in vain, and she'd be none the wiser. She'd go about her usual day, again and again, until the life-shattering news would come weeks or months after the fact.Izumi didn't like sleeping as much as she used to. Just the other day, her mother had brought her out to buy some groceries. Tucked behind her mother, Izumi had peered out to see a woman clutching a black-rimmed scroll wail heartbreaking denials on the streets.Her mother had only frowned, muttering something about "proper protocol" under her breath as she maneuvered them past the crowd.And Izumi?All she could do was look away. Once upon a time, within her little bubble of happiness, untouched by war and despair, she'd believed that all those she loved could live long, contented lives.This was no longer the case. Frustratingly enough, days later, that unfortunate lady still refused to leave Izumi's mind.Shaking her head, Izumi huffed and turned her attention back to her newest self-imposed task: memorizing the parts of the human body. It was tedious, boring work, but repetition meant remembering, so she steadily committed each to mind, eyes raking over the diagram and its tiny lettering.One bonus she rather appreciated was the fact that her memory in this life was far sharper than it was in Before, it being noticeably easier to recall facts and to flick through her expanse of knowledge.If she ever did get saddled with the prodigy title, at least she might have a few skills to back it up. “Izumi,” her mother said, “get dressed. We’re visiting a friend today.”Tilting her head quizzically, Izumi paused from her overview of the scroll in her hands. Her mother had never had her do something like this before.“We're visiting Mikoto-san, and she has a son around a year younger than you. He is Itachi, our clan heir,” was the explanation.Izumi nodded, fixating on the clan heir. As far as she was concerned, they only had one: the shining prodigy who would, with Obito, kill the entire Uchiha clan (barring a single survivor).The very thought of it sent chills crawling up her spine. Swallowing the sudden dryness from her throat, she forcibly shoved those thoughts from her mind.Uchiha Itachi was an innocent two-year-old boy devoid of blood and murder, not a kinslaying shinobi whose only connection to humanity had been whittled down to a tenuous thread. He was a prodigious child, if the rumors were to be trusted, but a child nonetheless.No matter how much it pained her, Izumi admitted that her knowledge from Before matched rather accurately with this world. She didn't quite like the implications.Nevertheless, she entered her room, slipping on a regular Uchiha shirt—purple, with an uchiwa fan in the back—and some loose knee-length pants. By the time she finished, Chiako was already standing by the front door, gift bag in hand.Unsurprisingly, the walk was short. As they approached the clan head’s traditional residence, however, Izumi startled at the verifiable sun that appeared to be inside.It wasn't a joke. Someone within the house felt impossibly bright and jovial, in every sense of the word. Said person also seemed fairly friendly and entertaining, so Izumi kept silent as her mother knocked on the door.Just a few moments later, a slender woman answered, sliding the entrance open and greeting them with a pleasant smile.“Hello, Chiako-san, Izumi-chan. Thank you for coming, and please enter.”Uchiha Mikoto was undeniably beautiful, smooth hair finely framing fair skin and elegantly painted features—model agencies would be tripping over themselves to hire a person with even a fraction of her looks....Were all Uchiha just this visually appealing?Izumi resolutely ignored her intrusive thoughts, obediently followed her mother’s footsteps into the house, mumbling a greeting, nodding politely, and sliding off her shoes. While her mother continued talking, she slowly took in the homely air and clean perfection of the clan head's home—“Hey! I haven’t seen you in a while, Chiako-chan!” a jovial voice exclaimed.Darting eyes met a flaming red.Izumi blinked, smothering her instinctive yelp of surprise.It seemed like they weren't the only guests in this house today. She just hadn't expected to meet the nine tails jinchuriki this soon (or ever, for that matter).

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

In truth, Izumi had no plans yet for the hypothetical future Kyuubi Attack. She'd spent the first few years of her life in a grief-filled haze, and following that, her deteriorating memory lacked necessary details. Because she didn’t remember birth dates or age differences well enough to pinpoint times, she didn't know exactly when the attack would occur.She didn't even know if it would ever happen.Perhaps she could use Mikoto and Kushina’s hypothetical future pregnancies to measure? Was Sasuke or Naruto—“Awwww,” Uzumaki Kushina cooed, crouching down and blocking her vision. The woman's eyes seemed dangerously eager. “Chiako-chan, your Izumi is so cute!” For a brief second, Izumi debated the option of complete avoidance. Grabby hands, however, immediately took the chance to pinch her cheeks.Ouch. It was a familiar pain, sadly enough—the nice ladies and grandmas she’d been introduced to could never seem to keep themselves from doing the same either. And, like always, Izumi allowed it reluctantly, pouting.The woman squealed, bending in even closer. “It’s nice to meet you, Izumi-chan! I’m Uzumaki Kushina, but you can call me Kushina-nee if you want!”Hah, as if Izumi had even been given a choice. “It’s nice to meet you, Kushina-nee,” she said, ignoring their largely amused audience.The responding beam was blinding.At first impression, if there was one thing she’d call Kushina, it would be a force of nature. With a uniquely vibrant, hard-edged disposition, the Uzumaki seemed like a someone with determination in spades, exuberant in a way that could easily break down any wall before her.It was fascinating—putting a personality to a name and a face she'd once seen on a screen.Izumi just didn't quite enjoy it as much when she was said targeted wall. Her mother cleared her throat. “Kushina-san, I am aware that my daughter is adorable.'' There was a hint of something in her voice. “However, I must ask that you stop manhandling her. She’s already growing upset.”Hm. It was a bit of an exaggeration, but Izumi gave no protest.Kushina chortled—a loud, joyful thing—but she thankfully stopped her pinching. “C’mon, Chiako-chan, I’ve already said you don’t need to be so formal with me.”  “Kushina-chan, then,” Her mother amended.Izumi chose to save the stress of wondering about how her mother was friends with Mikoto and Kushina for later, instead turning her mind to peer at the young boy standing uncertainly beside his mother.Uchiha Itachi, in all his chubby-cheeked, wide-eyed, innocent-looking glory, gazed back....Her mother would want her to interact with the Uchiha heir, right?Shifting from her mother's side, she padded towards the boy and bowed. “Hello. My name’s Izumi. Nice to meet you.”Itachi parroted her clinical greeting back, as per the joys of Uchiha etiquette, with an unfairly adorable lisp.Now that he was no longer so far away, Izumi took the opportunity to observe him.Very apparently lacking the usual unwieldy excitement of kids his age, Itachi held himself strangely, almost. Too controlled. Despite his soft, obedient features, there was a glint of awareness in his eyes and a shadow of intelligence in the set of his face that separated him from most.It was… jarring, to say the least. oh-so-very strange. Whether it was now or in Before, Izumi had interacted enough with children his age to be well aware of their usual charming qualities. Yet when she looked at Itachi, at the solemn curve of his brow, at his bottomless pits for eyes, at the way he seemed to know too much for a two-year-old kid, she knew almost immediately. Uchiha Itachi was a budding prodigy, aligning perfectly with her knowledge of Naruto.Izumi frowned thoughtlessly, an acrid tang burning her tongue. She hadn’t quite planned for her afternoon to be spent dealing with a too-smart-for-his-own-good kid, but things rarely ever went as anticipated. Mustering up a sigh, she took the plunge.But much to her exasperation, the boy before her seemed...wholly fine with the lack of conversation. Izumi winced.Place an unsociable boy and a self-conscious girl into a jar and shake well. The result: awkward silence.What were they going to do—stare at each other the entire time?“Perhaps we should all move to the table,” suggested Mikoto after a brief pause, like the absolute god-send she was, her clear voice cutting through the hush. The woman slid across the floor, gesturing at the cushions.They all followed, Izumi perching on the empty seat beside her mother. A tray of daifuku and a lovely tea set laid before them, with Mikoto pouring each individual a cup. Her movements were swift, perfect in a way that hinted of hours upon hours of burdensome etiquette training. Izumi was decidedly impressed.She also eyed the mochi.Another glance at Itachi revealed him staring at the steaming green tea in his cup, clearly uninterested in starting a discussion, so she elected to mindlessly eavesdrop on the adults’ gossip.(They probably knew exactly what she was doing, but it was all fine.)“So, how is it—taking care of Itachi-kun?” Kushina asked, once they were all settled in.Mikoto’s lips thinned as she curled a hand over her drink. “I’m…unsure if both of you were aware, but Itachi’s behavior is unlike that of most his age.” A pause, considering. “We have reason to believe he is a prodigy.”The air cooled several degrees.And Izumi understood.For most, prodigies were a sensitive topic, especially since they had a track record of short, unfortunate lives and copious amounts of trauma. For those hoping for a happy child with a pleasant life, prodigies were a death sentence. For those with ambitions, hoping for more, prodigies were a chance.A chance at what, exactly, Izumi didn't know. The knowledge she had so far was from only listening in on others' conversations and her own deductions.(Hatake Kakashi was an infamous shinobi, despite only being a teen.)She also didn't know which of these two Mikoto and Fugaku were. Considering the fact that Mikoto cared enough to bring it up, perhaps it was the former.“You’d say he’s similar to Kakashi-kun, then,” Kushina murmured, uncharacteristically soft for the boisterous women she usually was. “Kakashi’s a good kid, but the White Fang, y’know, it hit him hard. Living alone like that is really difficult, but with you and Fugaku by Itachi’s side, he’ll definitely feel a lot better.”Within the quiet home, her hushed voice could be heard all the same. Izumi could only shift uneasily.Maybe this was the wrong thing to be listening in on. “While true, you’re looking at it very optimistically,” her mother interjected, drumming calloused fingers against the table. “Combined with his position as clan heir, the pressure placed upon him will be immense. It may be better to allow Itachi to continue at his own pace, though I doubt it is possible.”There was a brief silence that felt like it stretched for far longer. Being a prodigy and a clan heir sounded terrible, didn't it?(Being a prodigy and a civilian-born sounded even worse.)Izumi fidgeted restlessly and waited until someone would finally deign to respond.Finally, Mikoto began to speak. “That is… accurate." Her tone was settled, a clear shut-down. "Thank you. I appreciate your help and will keep your words in mind.” The room warmed once more.Izumi relaxed, slumping slightly, and she didn't even know that she'd been so tense before. Across the table, Kushina quickly downed her blistering tea.“That reminds me!" the redhead declared. "I heard that Asuka-chan recently hooked up with Minoru-kun, and that they're both thinking of making it—"This was a discussion Izumi wanted no part in, and she zoned out appropriately. The daifuku seemed like a far nicer and less stressful subject to focus on. They appeared deliciously delicate, with powder sprinkled across dough shells, and she quickly snatched one to try.
…Hm?
She grabbed another, and it disappeared just as fast, sticky dough and red bean sliding down her throat.Mikoto made these? They tasted heavenly.By the time she reached for a fourth, her mother shot her a warning look, and she retreated, properly abashed.Her mother could be scary at times, and it wouldn't be good to be too absorbed by the sweets. Izumi might have really wanted more, but she yanked her eyes away and forcibly deliberated over alternative matters.Or, more specifically, the kid sitting sitting across from her. If there was one blaringly obvious similarity both she and Itachi had, well, it would be their futures as shinobi. And since it didn't seem like too bad of a conversational topic, she latched onto it with determination. “Excuse me, could I ask if you’re training to be a shinobi yet?” Izumi eyed Itachi, who was merrily munching on his own mochi. It was a stupidly random question with an obvious answer of no, but she needed to find something to hold a proper chat.…Was he even old enough to understand?Having just finished chewing, the boy raised his eyes from his snack. “Yes, my father has started me with basic physical exercises. He has also arranged tutors for me,” was his reply.Izumi blinked slowly.Well, there went her common sense—she really should’ve expected this. The title of clan heir came with a plethora of responsibilities and duties, especially when it was a clan as prestigious as the Uchiha. Of course Itachi would be held to infinitely higher standards than most.As Izumi shoved away slightly hysterical realization that a two-year-old was already being trained for a career as an assassin, she focused on their discussion instead. “Do you have any ideas for future specializations, then?”(While the subjects they discussed for the next few hours were mostly surface-level and random, at least she wasn’t bored to tears. Itachi, despite his very few years of living, somehow managed to be a better conversation partner than kids more than double his age.She couldn't even bring herself to feel stunned.)The pleasant visit and interaction wrapped up after a handful of hours, several cups of tea, and an emptied tray. The adults sprouted out more pleasantries that Izumi didn't bother herself with.Instead, she sidled up right next to her mother with the plan of begging for some more of Mikoto’s homemade mochi because it was nothing short of godly, but when she turned, the woman was right there, holding two bags filled with daifuku. Chiako and Kushina each received one.With that alone, Mikoto may have also just taken a top five spot in Izumi’s list of most favorite individuals (which, honestly, did not include many people). As Izumi gave an admiring glance, the woman in question offered an elegant smile that could melt butter.From where she was being steadily herded towards the front door, Izumi happily bounced from foot to foot. All in all, it wasn't as bad as she expected. Kushina and Mikoto were great, and Itachi wasn't all that bad when she ignored his odd disposition.But she was missing something.Realization struck quickly: they would be leaving soon, which meant that any questions she wished to ask Kushina should be gotten over with quickly.Excitement dimming to restlessness, she fidgeted uselessly and shot said woman a side eye.
Should she ask?
her mother sent her a chiding look, as if telling her to spill her tension.Choices, Izumi deliberated. An Uzumaki, whose clan had been run to near extinction following the destruction of Uzushiogakure. The stories and accounts of their fantastical skill with seals. The measures of benefit vs. cost.Hah.Who was she kidding? There was no cost for a simple question like this. If Izumi didn’t take this chance, she’d be regretting it for who knew how long. So she inhaled deeply, squared her shoulders, and asked, “Kushina-nee, since you’re an Uzumaki, you’re also good with fuuinjutsu, right?”Izumi didn't need eyes to discern the shock emitting from the three adults in the room. She, quite frankly, also wasn’t even sure what she expected from asking such an open-ended question.“Hell yeah I am, dattebane!” Kushina declared, almost habitual in her immediate response. She then paused, tapping her fingers against her arm with a pensive expression. “You’re one curious kid, aren’t you? Haha, I rarely ever meet anybody interested enough in fuinjutsu to ask me about it, but you’re in luck!”There was no warning—no puff of smoke or extra sound—only two abruptly-appearing scrolls in Kushina’s hands.Izumi goggled.“How about this?” the Uzumaki chirped, extending her arms. “I’ll give these to you to look over and read, and you can ask me or your kaa-san if you have any questions. Then, once you’re done, you can give these back to me the next time we meet!”Scratch whatever she’d thought about Mikoto earlier—Kushina definitely took the cake. Giving precious sealing scrolls to a four-year-old Uchiha kid because of a simple question? Izumi thought there was a limit to this kind of generosity, chiefly when it came to shinobi.Gushing her immense gratitude and stuttering over words, Izumi gave a very, very deep bow, one that probably was too deep according to etiquette, but she found that she cared very little for those rules. Kushina was an amazing person. At the unexpected hush of quiet, she looked up to glimpse their reactions.The redhead guffawed loudly, and to the side, both her mother and Mikoto hid smiles. Itachi cocked his head, intrigued.
She'd overreacted, hadn't she?
A dark flush dragged up Izumi’s pale skin.  As it turned out, even Uchiha civilians weren’t quite like regular civilians.“It’s Uchiha tradition for parents to educate their children on how to fight, no matter their chosen career path,” her mother explained, slowly running through katas as demonstration.Izumi watched the showcase attentively, wishing she could burn every movement of the pure artistry before her into memory. Every ripple of muscle and twist of the body flowed so smoothly yet powerfully, like a style of dance, not a method of fighting. The amount of flexibility and control required—she didn't want to ever imagine.“However, parents may choose which taijutsu style to teach their child,” her mother continued, fluidly contorting her body into impossible shapes.Just watching it made Izumi's back hurt.It was all quick steps, blurring together as she darted from one place to another in within seconds, twisting and maneuvering past imaginary obstacles so cleanly. A kick here, a leg sweep there, and so many Izumi couldn't even tie a name to.For an average shinobi, perhaps it wouldn’t be so impressive. For Izumi, a girl with no knowledge of combat, it was a wondrous thing.“Kaa-san, that was soo good!” she couldn’t help but bluster as in ended. In time, she was latched onto her mother’s leg. “And you’re gonna teach me this? Thank you, it’s so pretty and I really, really want to learn!”In the end, she was still a kid. Was it any surprise that she liked pretty things?Her mother smiled, patting Izumi's cheek. “Yes. This form relies largely on speed, agility, and unpredictability, fitting those whose statures don’t allow much strength, like the both of us. It has more loose kata, which makes it challenging to master, but it'll be less so with me by your side.” She paused, before adding, “In the future, you will learn more taijutsu forms, but this will be your first. Remember, this will take years of hard work to master.”Izumi was positively enamored. In Before, her only experience of handling sharp weapons had been knives when cooking and eating. Now, she was training to use kunai and shuriken for killing and injuring—Focus, she repeated. Focus.Her mother bent down, adjusting her open stance and her grip on the kunai.“Now, flick your wrist and throw,” her mother instructed.Izumi recalled the proper movements, directing her body as best she could, and the weapon sailed across, hitting the target’s outermost ring.“Not bad. Try again, and use more force.”Izumi followed along obediently.Fascinatingly enough, the throwing stars were like a deadly version of frisbees. Being far less challenging to master than kunai (though that was just Izumi’s opinion), they were also easy enough to bullseye with once she grasped how they swerved. It helped that she did have experience playing frisbee in Before, too. If she tried hard enough, she could probably imagine herself throwing the toy instead of a murder weapon.“Again."The shuriken swept in a wide arc, hitting bare centimeters away from the dead center of the target.Her mother ruffled her hair for a job well done, a proud curl to her lips. The one time she tried to spar against her mother, she—Izumi, of course—received a rather thorough thrashing.“You’re too hesitant. Despite knowing you can’t hurt me, you're reluctant to ever strike,” was the clear-cut observation.And Izumi knew, but mindsets were incredibly difficult to break. Striking someone so harshly—the painful skin-to-skin contact—was a strange, foreign action.With a new world came different values.If she wanted to live, she needed to adapt.“Get up and spar with me again,” her mother ordered.Izumi scrambled back into her starting stance, wincing at the blooming bruises that would undoubtedly litter her body tomorrow.Following another swift beat down, her mother once again picked through every hole in her form, critiquing her many flaws and delayed reaction speeds. Izumi committed every single one to memory.And adapt she did.  The moment she felt that familiar sparky signature enter her (not-very-large) range, she leapt up from her cozy position on the couch, book forgotten on the cushions.“Kaa-san, tou-san’s home!” she yelled.Her mother was beside her in an instant.“He’s here?” she breathed, the usual stoicism of her face giving way to an anticipatory gleam.Izumi nodded, practically vibrating with excitement from her spot near the front door. He was so, so close and— Tired, was her first impression. Standing at their front door, Arata looked so terribly tired, from the slouch of his shoulders to the deep bags in his eyes.“Hey, Izumi-chan, Chiako!” he said, and she felt his chakra thrum, like a bundle of sheer exhaustion and happiness rolled into one. “I’m home.”This time, his dull, worn forehead protector no longer seemed like an omen of misfortune."Tou-san!" she cheered, decisively shutting away worried thoughts and springing forwards, wide grin stretching from ear to ear.Her father was back, blessedly alive and whole.He flinched initially at their direct contact, a sudden and involuntary jerk back, and she felt his muscles tense under her touch.Oh, she'd forgotten about the rules. You didn't startle ninja, especially not ones just back from the frontlines, unless you wanted to end up in the hospital (or morgue, for the more unfortunate). Fuck, she'd messed up.But her father settled quickly, wrapping gentle arms around her. And Izumi could've burst into tears right then and there.Her mother drew closer, relief stark in her chakra, and joined their hug.Overflowing with satisfaction, Izumi burrowed into their warm embrace. That night, she crept out of her bedroom, padding her steps with chakra. Izumi didn't quite know why she'd woken up so suddenly, only that she could hear voices and had an irresistible curiosity as to what her parents were discussing. It didn't take much to press her ear onto the wall and listen in on the living room where her parents were—“Ren and Keiko died,” her father rasped, anguish clinging to every word.Izumi stilled.There was an empty pause, filled with harsh breaths.Keiko, she didn't recognize, but the name Ren brought up memories of curly brown hair, cheshire grins, and droopy eyes. An Uchiha, it seemed like. Her mouth felt uncomfortably dry.“Fuck,” he murmured, and Izumi gulped at his uncharacteristic curse. “They were sending kids out there too. You know how it is. We didn’t have enough scrolls—we couldn’t bring them all back.”
What?
Burning ice dug into her heart, suffusing through her bones.There wasn't much Izumi knew about the ongoing war, but she knew her father had been sent to the Iwa front. She knew that, like any other war, the frontlines were bloody and brutal and vicious. And for him to describe such things—Sending kids out to the frontlines of a war to die?Who were they—Konoha, or another village? Something sour curdled in her gut.Leave. She needed to leave.She definitely hadn’t thought this through, and she needed to leave immediately before her parents could notice her here.Cautiously keeping silent, she edged backwards and hurried back to her room as fast as her feet could take her. Trembling hands slowly shut the door, and she slipped into bed.Despite the warmth of her blanket, Izumi had never felt so frozen before. “Take this, and use these carefully.”Izumi blinked, staring at her mother’s extended arm, which held a small pouch, one that Izumi had just seen her slip some kunai and a shuriken into.“You’re giving me these weapons? Why?”“I’ve already taught you the main basics of weapon handling. Now that you understand, I’ve deemed you fit to safely use these.” 
Oh.
Izumi reached out, delicately gripping the pouch with both hands. She’d just been entrusted with very real, very sharp kunai and shuriken. Hm.Shinobi really did things differently. Then again, Hatake Kakashi had become genin at 5. Things could've been worse.  Reincarnation was a strange, strange concept. It’d once been so alien to her—no one knew what happened after death, and she still had lots more to live, so why overthink it? And then she'd died and ended up here. Here, in Konoha, living under a military dictatorship. Living in a world so torn by war after war after war. A world with shinobi and child soldiers and adults who sent kids to violent deaths in a pointless conflict.What a shit show.As a healthy Uchiha child with two strong shinobi parents, there was never a question as to whether Izumi would follow in their footsteps. Konoha held their shinobi to high standards, and the Uchiha clan held their members to even higher ones. They would never allow such potential to slip through their fingers.Despite her numerous clashing ideals, Izumi compliantly followed the confining path set before her. She never complained, never slacked off, never cut corners.For that, she had a single reason: civilians couldn’t protect themselves, but shinobi could. Hell, even a well-trained academy student could take down an average weapon-wielding adult civilian with notable ease. In a world like this, Izumi refused to be weak.With that in mind, she’d begged and pleaded for her parents to allow her to begin the academy at the early age of four. While still uncommon, it wasn’t entirely unusual, and they had eventually relented after several tireless weeks.Now, there were very few days left until the academy entrance exam.She ultimately had two choices for her future: conceal her intelligence and stay the full years at the academy, or display her skill and graduate early.And once again, her indecisiveness sprung up like an insistent weed she could never pull from the root.The entire basis of Izumi's intelligence was her memories of Before, a life of living in a place with an abundance of free knowledge and education.Any four year old with recollection of another life would be considered a prodigy, but Izumi wasn’t one. She simply had an unfair advantage of extra memories. One day, as she grew older, her memories would no longer offer her an edge, and her comprehension and experience would plateau. As her peers matured, they would catch up. And then people would be left with high expectations she couldn't ever possibly reach.The life of a shinobi was a hard one. If she bit off more than she could chew, she'd be as good as dead.But by being known as a prodigy, Izumi would also gain more experience and training. She would have a voice, and people would give her the time of day.In the end, it was still a double edged sword. Attention was not always beneficial, and she’d be thrust into situations no child could ever handle.(But she wasn’t a child, was she?)On the other hand, while staying undetected and smothering her potential was the safer option that appealed more to her base self-preservation instincts, it…felt like such a waste. She’d be stuck within the academy for so many valuable years—time which could be used for far better prospects.(Chakra was such a fascinating thing, wasn’t it? Imagine all the possibilities—)In short, it resembled a high risk, high reward and low risk, low reward comparison.(Did it really?)Would Izumi settle with being safe but weak? Would being weak ever allow her safety, or should she entrust it to the village?
(If she did nothing, would the Uchiha Massacre—)
 This was a world of gods and shinobi. Why settle for the mundane, for the regular, when you could have more?Only the strongest and luckiest could achieve their dreams—and Izumi?She had cosmic ones.She went for the option she was least likely to regret.(Izumi was going to become a powerful shinobi or die trying.)

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

“Anything on your mind?”Walking hand in hand with her father, his large palm engulfing hers, Izumi shifted to eye him. It didn’t take much to switch her view of the gaping, cloudless blue sky to a side-angle of his smiling face and flowing hair.Her neck was growing a bit tired.“Not really, tou-san. Don’t worry, I’m fine,” she replied, tightening her measly grip on his hand.The wavering of her voice and her jittery demeanor begged to differ, but really, they weren’t real until Izumi decided to acknowledge them. Which she never would.Her father huffed a laugh, shooting a pointed look above her head, right to where her mother probably stood. “Exactly as you say, Izumi.” Izumi elected to ignore her parents, instead focusing on their intended destination just a few paces away.At first glance, the academy building was tall and daunting, its significance in history practically coalescing into something tangible, a heavy weight pressing down down on Izumi’s shoulders. Bold red colored its outside walls, prominent and striking and denying witnesses the opportunity to think any less of the structure than what it actually was.It made sense that it would be presented so ceremoniously. The academy was a symbol of Konoha’s future, after all.Just a few yards away from the building, there was an overwhelming mass of shinobi hopefuls and parents. It was a group of variety rarely ever seen together: clan children, civilian kids, orphans—the entire lot of them.Light chatter filled the air, a sort of measured anticipation radiating clearly from the adults. Izumi could already spot the clear divisions, easily discernible through distinctive clan traits, whether it be the pupilless white eyes of the Hyuuga or the red fangs of the Inuzuka. To no surprise, the Uchiha held their own well-populated clique, populated with eager dark-haired children.Izumi’s mouth was strangely dry. Her heart felt like it was flailing within its fleshy confines; any more, and it might just flutter away.Several generations of Konoha’s shinobi had attended this school as children.Many were already dead.(She was going to become a shinobi.)All these children here, including her, were joining a school to learn how to become killers—to enter a cruel profession with an astronomically high death rate and a gut-wrenchingly low life expectancy.What would their lives be like a decade from now? Would they be six feet under, or would they be steadily adapting? How many of them would ever live to see the age of 30?(How did their parents feel, sending them towards such a painful life?)Izumi pursed her lips, glaring at the death knell of a building like it held all the answers to all her problems. There was something burning through her veins—adrenaline, righteous indignation, or fear, she didn’t know. The tangle of emotions kindling in her chest felt suffocatingly indecipherable.With the knowledge she had, what was she supposed to feel?Excitement, maybe. The thrill of defying physics and wielding magic held an impossible allure, as always. Even more, this was her first step to becoming something in this new world of hers. What better emotion to describe this event but excitement?…Or was it fear? Fear of the unknown, fear of pain, fear of the innumerable world that stood before her, fear of the future—they all sounded equally likely. Izumi was, after all, a person who feared many things.Still, it didn’t feel real. Somehow, reality hadn’t yet set into her bones. Somewhere along the way, her train of logic failed to properly compute. She knew about the stories, about the suffering, about the plain, hard facts, but she couldn’t conceptualize it. Her decision to enter the academy held implications, Izumi was sure. But the scale of such implications seemed so incomprehensible, like the mysteries of outer space and galaxies.Not knowing scared her.“Loosen up a bit, Izumi!” Strong arms wrapped around her body, snapping her from her reverie, and Izumi found herself swung into the air, uncharacteristically shrieking all the while.“Tou-san!” she half-yelled, half-laughed. “Put me down!”The sweep of her stomach was usually an enjoyable excitement, but it proved a hindrance when the anxious pit in her gut threatened to bubble over at any moment. Thankfully, her moment in the air was a short one as her father acquiesced to her demands.Steadying Izumi’s weak-legged wobble upon her return to the sweet, sweet ground, her mother raised a brow. “You’re far more nervous than usual.”Izumi pouted. Yeah, yeah, sue her for being nervous for an important exam, of all things. She knew this was unlike her usual style of vague indifference, but was it really so surprising?“You’re far more anxious than any four-year-old should be,” her father carried on. “And you were just begging for us to let you attend just a few weeks ago. Are you sure—”“Yes!” she interrupted stubbornly, like the four-year-old she was. “I’m just a bit nervous, but it’s nothing important!”He winked none-too-subtly. “I’m sure you are, Izumi.”Her mother only rolled her eyes, a tinge of playfulness seeping through.The loud sound of a clearing throat echoed through the air, interrupting Izumi’s plan for a retort. She whipped her head around towards the noise and quieted with the crowd as a green-vested man standing on a mock stage began speaking.It was a short announcement of the basic directions regarding the exam—clearly targeted towards civilian-born, because Izumi had such knowledge nailed to her brain far earlier, like most applicants from shinobi clans. Despite that, she listened politely, albeit a bit half-heartedly, noting down the important parts—testing began in 20 minutes, make sure to be inside the right testing room in 10 minutes, results would be posted soon, etc. The notice wrapped up in a few minutes, and the man faded back into obscurity with his similarly dressed coworkers.On that note, it was probably time for Izumi to get going. It was better to be slightly early than risk being late. But as she turned to face her parents, a goodbye already on her lips, her father crouched down with a strange gaze. Izumi halted in her tracks.Eye-to-eye with her, he spoke softly. “You already know that the academy rarely rejects applicants. This exam is only so they can get to know you better—no reason to be worried about passing." And that was the truth. Konoha couldn’t afford to be picky when they needed more shinobi stat, so most academy hopefuls were accepted, for better or for worse.With a look that almost seemed to pierce through her, he continued, “But remember this: do what you want, not what others want you to. Rules aren't all there is to life.” Izumi bobbed her head in acknowledgement, and he gave a reassuring smile. “Trust yourself, and we might just eat out at Yakiniku after this!”Izumi knew exactly what he was doing, dangling such an attractive offer in front of her like a carrot on a stick, but she would always fall for it anyway. Yakiniku was just too good.“And when did we agree to that, hmm?” cut in her mother, bending to his level with an elbow to his ribs before focusing on Izumi with a similarly odd expression. “You are an Uchiha. Stand proud. Ultimately, your performance on this exam will not define you. No matter how you do, we’ll always stand beside you, understand?”Damn. Her parents really read her like an open book.“Yes!” Izumi chirped, thriving in the warm, gushy feelings that overtook her nerves. As Izumi flicked through and answered questions on her booklet, she felt no tell-tale anxiety, the kind she used to have at the face of important events. Instead, everything felt remarkably calm—no tapping, no fidgeting. She'd like to think that her parents were to thank for that, but it was just as likely that it was some other baggage that came along with dying and being reborn. Too bad she had a test to take; Izumi couldn’t be bothered to think more into it.Putting pencil to paper, she breezed through the math section of the test in just a few minutes. If there was one nice thing about the subject, it was its universality—even after dying and being reborn in another world, Izumi had little to no difficultly with it.History was of the same challenge (read: none at all), so she completed it quickly too. When questions were as simple as “Who was the Nidaime Hokage?” it would be almost embarrassing if Izumi had taken any longer than she did.A quick glance at the clock and—nice, she had plenty of time left. The katakana section held her first tiny roadblock, because no matter how much she studied, Japanese was hard to learn. It took several minutes of trying and failing to recall the correct character strokes for her to write down the answer she thought was best. If worst came to worst, she'd just check it later. No sweat. Honestly, her pride would've been a little bruised if she couldn't ace a test meant for toddlers. And so, Izumi continued on. As it turned out, the questions towards the end were probably the most bothersome.The words “Why do you want to become a shinobi?” glared at her from the inked paper. Izumi stared back, like it was an unwanted pile of shit she had to clean up. What a dumb question. It was empty and vague and didn't have an easy correct answer. She could already picture her fellow toddler test-takers scribbling something about duty to the village and how shinobi were that cool and I want to be like my parents.At that thought, she shifted to glance at the kids beside her, who had their eyes glued to their papers. Children. She was surrounded by children. The fact that a room full of kids taking a test was not loud or filled with fidgeting—Izumi found herself dully impressed.It was a real shame, though, that none of this would help her with the written questions. She shifted her attention back to her paper. If Izumi was an Uchiha child, born and raised under the banner of an uptight and prestigious clan, with no strange memories of another world, what would she believe?Not everyone was an Itachi.Children were blind. Blind and naïve and gullible. They believed what they read and wholeheartedly trusted their parents, their role models, the strongest in the village. What would the Hokage say?What would her parents say?The Uchiha were nothing if not loyal. They were loyal to the bone—even Izumi, who was rather removed from their sphere of influence, could see the way they took pride in that. Took pride in being one of the founding clans of Konoha. Took pride in their continuous and irreplaceable involvement in the shinobi workforce and its civilian aspects. Even Izumi could see the fulfillment, the faith, the easy confidence that took ahold of Chiako when she'd described their clan. And coming from Chiako, it meant a lot. Loyalty—that was the key.Izumi could build off of that just fine.  The paper exam wrapped up quickly, with examiners calling time and collecting papers in less than a minute. Izumi parted ways with her completed booklet in a pleasant mood.It was easy. Easier than she’d anticipated, actually. Which meant that there was no need to worry about results—Izumi had that exam cinched.To her left, a rather nervous-looking civilian girl fidgeted with an eraser. Two seats down, a Hyuuga kid wore an uncharacteristic frown. A boy somewhere in the back yawned loudly. Izumi sat up straight and quietly tapped her index finger against the table.The wait was almost anxiety-inducing until, row by row, the shinobi began passing down leaves.It was great news for Izumi, because she knew this.“This is the leaf sticking exercise. The goal is to use chakra to stick the leaf onto your forehead without using anything else to hold it in place," a proctor standing at the front of the room announced, then demonstrated cleanly with her own leaf. “You will be given 15 minutes to attempt this exercise.”Izumi did it in less than one. The nearest overseer gave her a passing glance and made a mark on his clipboard—she had this in the bag.The remaining minutes were a painful exercise of her patience. Her leaf was still on her forehead, but Izumi had gotten too used to having something at hand to take up her attention and overzealousness. Within the official examination room, the piercing eyes of the examiners had the terrible combination of making her more high-strung while keeping her from actually doing anything to release her spirit.Experimenting with her chakra was for another day and another time, preferably when she wasn't under the observation of chūnin. Nibbling at her lip, Izumi frowned and turned her attention to some of her fellow examinees who...were not doing so hot. She winced sympathetically as one hapless boy's leaf flew right down the row before him. It took a proctor to return it right to his cherry-red, mortified face. Funny enough, aside from the clan children, who had all managed to complete the leaf-sticking rather speedily, he was probably the one making the most visible progress. Leaves didn't suddenly cover several feet of ground when there was no wind in the room.If this was their first introduction to chakra, which it probably was for civilian-born, it'd be near impossible to get it so quickly with no outside instruction. Add that fact to their young ages and the strict examiners picking them apart, and the gradual devolution of some into anxious messes seemed almost understandable, in a way. But it wasn't that serious. Fail the leaf sticking exercise or not, they'd all probably pass; unless, of course, they had some physical debilitation or chakra problem that prevented them from functioning on field. It was a low bar, but if her mother's words had any merit, plenty could and would drop out from the academy in the coming years. Really, the more Izumi thought about it, the less significant the academy entrance exam seemed. The minutes passed by quickly. By then, several others managed to gain some sticking ability.Finally, the examiners took all their leaves and herded them to the fields. ..And then came the physical portion of the exam.Izumi eyed her surroundings, taking in the rest of those in her group in a wide, open field. It was a warm day—thankfully not too much so—with some degree of cloud cover. The sun shone down upon her hair and skin, and a proctor called for attention.“You will be running a marked distance for this exam portion,” he explained. “But first, you all have five minutes to warm up.”Vague. It was vague—surprisingly so. Izumi had expected that, with an audience full of children, their examiners would've taken more care to enunciate directions clearly. Why would they do the exact opposite?She still took that as her cue to start stretching. Izumi started with lunges—front and side—then leg swings and toe touches and a few arm circles. Offhanded glances showed that the other clan children had started with their own exercises that the civilian-born were following along awkwardly.If she ignored that it would affect their chances of survival in wartime, their cluelessness would almost be entertaining.Izumi largely minded her own business, and by the time she felt nicely refreshed, their five minutes were up.“Okay, kids!” This time, another proctor took up the announcing job, chakra radiating an odd smugness. His voice was loud and strangely extravagant, a noticeable difference to their previous overseers, and his smile pinged the part of Izumi's brain that signaled bad. “Your job” —an irritating pause, and Izumi wondered if he took pleasure in tormenting kids— “is to run.”Izumi frowned. It seemed like the dubious ambiguity of their statements had no end. The man carried on with needless flourish. “What? Y'all just gotta run around the grounds until I tell you to stop. And start when I tell you to start.”An approaching cloud darkened a shadow over their figures. Izumi waited for him to continue.One second passed. Then two.Not a single person made a sound, not even the no-good proctor.She frowned. Was this some kind of trick? If she didn't know better, she'd almost call it ominous. Clearly, something was about to—"Start!"—she really should have expected that.Izumi was the first one to break into a jog, abandoning her fellow examinees to the dubious mercies of their proctors. Her instincts were as right was ever. This meant nothing good for her or her stamina."Run, run! They've got the right idea—go!" a grating voice crowed behind her. Really, she just wanted the exam to be over already. At the least, Izumi had enough working braincells to understand that keeping a more controlled pace was the best option—like hell she'd be eagerly sprinting to increase her own exhaustion, even as most others caught up and passed her. Considering the proctors hadn’t given a set time or distance, it would be better to pace herself, which those at the front evidently had not realized.She glanced at those keeping the same speed as her: some Yamanaka, Akimichi, Nara, Hyuuga, and civilian-born.Yeah, she’d probably be fine.Within the first lap, some of those racing towards the front tired quickly and, judging by their heavy panting and slowing speed, seemed to visibly regret their decision. One already had a comically cherry-red face, and she smothered the inappropriate giggles building up in her throat. Some stand-out Inuzuka and Uchiha kept a more admirable stamina, though they did eventually moderate their running. Izumi only had a slight sheen of sweat on her back.By the second lap, the rather distinctive clan kids—whether by their coloring or their features—were very obviously doing better than all other civilians. It wasn’t a very high bar, since most of the latter had already broken proper running form.And then, just a few more laps in, as sweat beaded across her forehead, they dropped like flies.The gigantic gap in competency left Izumi startled. It made sense, considering the clan-born had parents and a clan that practically trained them since birth. Civilian-born, on the other hand, were not given anywhere near as many advantages. Despite that, she hadn’t ever realized it would make this much of a difference.The further into the running they got, the less of a visible difference appeared, though. Everyone was tired and flagging. Her legs felt a bit too much like jello and her mouth felt like a desert. One wrong swallow, and she'd be gagging her guts out onto the grass with an audience of her fellow peers and superiors.Well, it probably wasn't that bad, but it was still pretty bad. Couldn't they at least be allowed a water break?She was distantly impressed by the fact that these tiny kids had the self-discipline to even continue. Distantly, because the ongoing exam was far more important. Under the piercing eyes of the proctors, Izumi ignored her burning lungs, grit her teeth, and focused into the rhythm of running. Too much thinking, and she'd be regretting it later once it overcomplicated things. One foot ahead of the other.One, two. One, two.She could do this.In the end, they were all panting and sweating by the time they were called to stop, some just more than others. Izumi swallowed saliva against a parched throat and bent over, pressing her hands to her knees. Her entire body felt like one aching bruise as she grabbed for her water bottle and chugged, ignoring the liquid dribbling down her chin. Water. Her glorious, glorious water. God, just how much she missed it. “How was it?” The sadistic proctor was back again, this time very clearly smug, and Izumi understood why.She grunted and glared. Most of her fellow examinees did something similar.He laughed. “Don’t blame me—this was the official test! I’m sure you all are happy to know, then, that your academy entrance exam has been completed. Results will be posted in four days, the academy starts in two weeks, and you can now get your stuff and leave!”Izumi had never speed-walked so fast in both her lives. Her parents were waiting at the front of the building. They'd taken in her disgruntled, sweat-drenched self and had immediately burst into hysterics. Well, hysterics for Chiako was more of just chuckling, but Arata was unreservedly guffawing.Her father was mean and enjoyed her suffering far too much to be healthy.“Izumi, you look so upset!” Of course she did—she hated having to run that much. It felt like her right side was cramping, and her legs were going to be dead tomorrow. “That physical took a lot out of you, didn’t it?”The statement dripped of pity, amusement, and horror. Izumi figured her appearance would be less than stellar, but really, was it that bad?She couldn't bother to think much into it. If she truly looked terrible, she had more than enough of a reason to be. Her mother pressed a hand against Izumi's head. “Arata and I never told you, but we went through the same thing during our academy entrance physical. We both hated it as much as you do now—everyone did."“We sure did.” Another snicker. “But you’ll feel better once you eat. Still willing to go to Yakiniku?”Izumi perked up, nearly forgetting about her exhaustion. Food was amazing. She loved great food. Yes, she almost said, but she paused and reconsidered.“Actually, have you heard of Ichiraku Ramen?” Holy shit, Naruto was onto something when he was singing praises about the restaurant.Ichiraku Ramen was heavenly. They’d ordered a shoyu, a tonkotsu, and a miso ramen and shared. And, see, Izumi had eaten ramen in Before. She’d eaten plenty of good ramen. None of them held a candle to Ichiraku Ramen. The flavor of the broth, the noodles, the eggs, the meat—Izumi gave a satisfied sigh—absolutely impeccable. She had sky-high expectations and they managed to surpass them. They made the entrance exam completely worth it.Izumi would have to go there more often. Surely there’d be a way to bug her parents into letting her.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Actions had consequences. Izumi knew this.Nothing, however, quite ever prepared her for the consequences her academy entrance exam would bring.They got the exam results a few days later. By they, she meant the Uchiha Clan Elders, the prevailing voice of authority in the clan. Since Izumi was registered with the surname of Uchiha, her scores would obviously pass through clan purview first. And that fact just about screwed her over.Izumi never quite got the official exam results that were written on paper. Instead, she learned of her situation through word of mouth.Or, more specifically, she was called to meet the clan elders at midday.Her mother, with pursed lips and a quiet warning, had brought her to premises where the Uchiha Elder Council met. They'd left her father behind for one reason or another, so it was just Izumi and her mother right outside the meeting room, stuck waiting.And waiting. And waiting.Izumi fidgeted, glaring at the ominous sliding doors that marked the entrance to the council's room. She could already feel the chakra signatures inside, flickering with a sort of intense heat unique to only Uchiha. Even to her subpar sensing skills, they felt more…refined, aged in a way that she assumed came with time and experience.They were elders, so it would fit the bill. She just disliked how long it was taking them to allow for an audience.“Uchiha Chiako, Uchiha Izumi, enter,” a weathered voice intoned from behind the screens.It was entirely her mother’s hand gripping hers that kept Izumi from jerking up and making a fool of herself right in front of their esteemed elders. Unlike what she expected, though, she received no reprimand for her dubious etiquette. Instead, Chiako guided her from their seated position, offering Izumi one last almost-perturbed look before releasing her hand and sliding the door—Several pairs of eyes immediately narrowed straight towards Izumi with unerring accuracy. It took effort from every bone in her body to keep herself from visibly flinching.They were all frowning, too. Izumi frowned right back, more to calm herself down than anything else. Their gazes weighed so heavily she could feel the suffocating pressure pressing down on her whole being. Any more, and she'd be a boiling frog, unable to move while being cooked alive within a pot of rising temperature. Unable to twitch as the greatest powers of her clan scrutinized and inspected her like one might do with a magnifying glass to an bug.Izumi was not a bug.Nonetheless, her already ramrod straight back stiffened even further as she followed her mother to delicately sit in dogeza. She didn’t dare look any of the room’s other occupants in the eye. The pure power saturating the air prickled on all of her senses, draping Izumi in what felt like an impossibly heavy mass.“Chiako,” one elder, all wrinkled skin and white hair, began, “this is your child, Izumi, no?”Izumi didn’t like this. She didn’t like the unpleasantness seeping from every corner of the room, didn’t like the snippy tone of the man who spoke, didn’t like the way they eyed her and—“Yes, Isamu-sama.” Her mother, always so proud and capable, inclined her head in a picture perfect image of subservience.Izumi froze. The impression of alien foreboding swirled in the nausea of her gut. It felt like a once-settled puzzle piece had shifted and no longer fit as it should. It felt terrible.“Our clan has received the most recent Academy Entrance Exams results.” This time, it was an austere man with white-streaked hair who spoke. “Uchiha Izumi has placed first with one of the highest scores seen in history, higher than that of Hatake Kakashi.”Izumi twitched, because that was a bad name to mention, especially in connection with herself. The poster boy for a tragedy of a child prodigy was not someone she wanted to be compared with.And, judging by her tense figure and uneasy chakra, her mother wholeheartedly agreed.“Potential must be nurtured,” another man dressed in a silken kimono said, heedless of her opinions on the topic. “Regardless if said potential emerges from somewhere” —his lip twisted— “unsavory.”Izumi swallowed, and the action only enhanced the trepidation curdling in her body. If her mother had been agitated previously, she was furious now. Izumi could feel the searing fire licking under her mother’s skin, ashes sweeping as embers burned and burned—“Daisuke-san,” a surprisingly young man cautioned, looking so out of place yet so fitting within this council of the elderly. “Please limit your thoughts to the topic of discussion.”Her mother settled a bit, fire dampening slightly. It took a second to place him, but Izumi recognized their respected clan head rather quickly.The bigoted man only scoffed. “I certainly am not speaking for only myself when I say that the half-breed—”A crushing weight slammed down, but not on Izumi.“Daisuke-san. Hold your tongue.” Fugaku-sama’s voice was pure steel, a barely-smothered fury emanating from its edges.The elder in question was wise enough to do so.Sweat beaded down Izumi's neck. At the ensuing silence, she aimed her eyes on the floor, carefully aware of her fuming mother beside her.Fugaku was the only one who continued speaking.“Chiako, it has been decided that upon Izumi’s first day of entrance, she will join those in the year above her.” Izumi’s hand spasmed. “As time passes, additional tests to gauge her level will be administered, and her advancement will be determined from those results.”A pause.“I understand, Fugaku-sama.”“Good. You are both are dismissed.”  Izumi tugged uncomfortably at the edges of her navy shirt, biting her lips at the dreary atmosphere surrounding her parents. Sandaled feet trod through the pathway, eerily reverberant in the otherwise silent area.(“A friend of ours died recently. Remember the proper etiquette and respect, Izumi. We’ll do the talking.”)She shifted closer to her parents, grasping at the familiar feel of home in their chakra. It felt too quiet—too empty for Izumi to fully settle, but she inhaled sharply and squared her shoulders for some semblance of security.There was already a woman waiting for them outside, she noticed, as their walk drew to a close at the front steps of a house. Donning a pitch-black yukata and an simply-styled bun, Uchiha Seiko eyed them intensely, the hard set to her jaw a startling contrast to her initially demure appearance.“Thank you for coming during this period of mourning,” the woman murmured, the croaky rasp of her voice impossibly telling under the backdrop of quiet.It was understandable. Not many could easily handle being widowed and left with a young son to take care of, after all.“Thank you for allowing us to come,” her father responded, head dipping in acknowledgement. “I am very sorry for your loss.”“My sincerest condolences for his death,” her mother echoed, pursing her lips.Opening her mouth, Izumi attempted to repeat their words—And winced, halting at her mothers’s tightening grip on her shoulder.Stay quiet, her mother’s eyes seemed to say as she glanced up, this isn’t a topic you can weigh in on.Izumi gave the barest hint of a nod, and then bowed her head to stare at her feet.Death was not something to be spoken of lightly, especially not by a child with little to no grasp of its gravitas. The heart-wrenching guilt hissing through her father’s chakra already spoke of more than she wanted to know.So for the most part, Izumi minded her own business, awkwardly peering at her surroundings to keep from eavesdropping on the tension-filled conversation, counting the bits of gravel under her feet, trying to recall all the parts of a human body.It was more than enough to keep her mind off things until Seiko finally invited them into the house. Entering, Izumi was first struck by the contrast of environments. The bright sun outside gave way to dim, dark indoors, cold and sad in a way she didn’t like. As she padded deeper into the house, the floorboards creaked ominously.Bad vibes was an eerily accurate label for the entire place. Seiko led them to the living room, where a table, a tea set, and several zabuton sat, which—wasn't good. It was clear that whatever discussion would happen soon was something nobody wanted Izumi to be involved in, so why was she even brought here? Was it some kind of test to see just how long she could maintain a courteous mask while being bored out of her mind? ...No, that didn't seem right."Shisui-kun," the woman called, "come to greet our guests."Izumi barely even noticed the padding of footsteps down the hallway. Turning abruptly, she met the sad eyes of a young boy standing just outside the washitsu. He wasn't much older than her, with distinctly Uchiha features and curly hair, and the black clothes he was wearing practically had him melting into the shadows.He looked like a child, but only if a child could wear such a hollow-eyed expression on his face at such an age. This was Uchiha Shisui, prodigy extraordinaire, best friend of Itachi before everything went to shit, teen who tried to work with Danzō? He looked like a regular breeze could knock him down, of which he would never be getting up after. He looked terrible.But, Izumi acknowledged, wincing inwardly, his father had just died. Some sympathy and understanding was warranted. "Good afternoon!" Shisui bowed, eyes brightening in an instant. "It's nice to meet you all."Well, he seemed somewhat upbeat and social enough—better than Itachi, at least, and Itachi had been just fine. Izumi smiled and repeated the greeting. This was good—great, actually. She'd resigned herself to a day of boring conversations and getting nothing done, but she now had someone to talk to.There was a rustle of cloth, and Izumi felt her mother approach from behind. "Perhaps the children could play outside on their own," her mother suggested.Seiko gave Izumi a piercing once-over before acquiescing. “Shisui-kun." The boy practically jerked to attention. “Take Izumi-chan out to the backyard, and don’t do anything dangerous."“Yes, Okaa-san.”A grim twist to her lips, her mother added, “Izumi, follow his wishes.”And so they both slipped out of the room, leaving behind the dismal, heavy-hearted aura of the room to go to the backyard. Izumi was pretty happy about it. She had zero interest in hearing about the certainly difficult conversation she'd just dodged.  As a host, Shisui had the responsibility of entertaining guests, and he was good at it."Here, see?" He gestured at his empty hand, flipping it over and shaking it. "Empty. Now..." A flick of his wrist, and four kunai emerged. "Got it!"Izumi stared. "How'd you do that?"Shisui's lips curled into a mischievous smile. "It's a trick, so I can't tell you. You can guess if you want, though.""Please do it again."The kunai in his hand disappeared. Izumi grabbed said hand and observed it carefully.He grinned. A second later, four kunai were back between his fingers."...I still don't get it.""It's just simple magic tricks! C'mon, just guess!""Hmmm..." She paused, thinking it through. "Is it just some chakra trick? There's no way it's genjutsu.""It's not genjutsu! But I won't say if it's a chakra trick. That's way too vague."Then... "Substitution technique? Substitute kunai with air?""No way! That's way too hard to do.""What about some kind of speed enhancement? Is that possible?"Shisui halted for a second, just noticeable enough for Izumi to catch."I'm right? It's speed enhancement?" Impressive, that she managed to hit the nail on the head with a random guess. He hummed. "Yeah...it's something like that. I can't believe you actually got it, though!""You did it expecting that I wouldn't guess it right?" "Yeah!" Okay, that was to be expected, even if it hurt her pride the tiniest bit. But something about Shisui's confidence struck Izumi oddly. "And if I didn't get it right, would you have told me?""No?" He hesitated. "...Maybe?""...fine. Just show me another trick.""Okay, I've got the perfect one!"  Uchiha Ren's funeral dawned on one sunny day, with no rain or clouds to speak of.Izumi and her parents dressed in all black kimonos, practically fading away into the sea of dark-outfitted people attending the funeral. It was almost easy to get lost, but she stuck to her parents like glue. Not much else she could do, either way.Hours under the burning sun passed, slipping through her fingers like water. It was boring and hot, standing in place as someone wearing very delicate, expensive robes read out a formal speech. Something about Uchiha Ren's loyalty to the village, something about his achievements as an Uchiha, and nothing about how he died some miserable, painful death in the frontlines of a bloody war. Who knew, though? Maybe he was lucky enough to for quick and painless death. Either way, people wouldn't talk about such things, especially not in front of his son. Perhaps Izumi should have at least paid attention to the proceedings, but—she couldn't bring herself to. The mass of people surrounding her felt...too weird. Sad. Resigned. Indifferent.This was the first time she would attend a funeral in this new life. She was only four. How many more funerals, of close friends, of family, would she have to attend in the future?She barely even knew Uchiha Ren, for all that she was present at his burial. What kind of person was he, to inspire these kinds of feelings in those who knew him? A strong, full-blooded Uchiha who embodied the Will of Fire? Uchiha Kagami's only son—valued because of status and genetics and old friends?...Whatever. Not her circus, not her monkeys. Uchiha Ren was dead, and so was her chance at ever knowing him. One by one, the countless people each lit incense and paid respects. After doing so, Izumi waited and waited for the rest to finish, drifting in and out of focus.She'd barely even noticed him, as she did a quick sweep over all the attendees. If she hadn't looked any closer, she wouldn't even had recognized him. Shisui looked so alone, drowning in his swathes of cloth and condolences. The unhealthy pallor of his skin was stark against his dark kimono, especially under the bright sun. Izumi would be blind to not see the waves of hurt practically roiling off of him, like a cornered, injured animal. It would be a lie to say that the sight didn't encourage some kind of pity within her.For a second, she considered walking up to offer as much meager comfort as she could to a sad child. Contemplated talking about his likes, dislikes—anything to get his mind of a dead father and a burdened mother. They were friends, weren't they? Izumi would like to think so, even if they'd only met once, and friends helped each other out in difficult times. Another quick glance booted that idea out of her mind, though. Shisui, it seemed, had no shortage of people approaching him. Many people—the Elders, adults she didn't know, even those who weren't from their clan. Too many people.And, well, no amount of sympathy for him would ever make Izumi willingly face that kind of group. So, mind made, she twisted in her steps, walking in a direction that placed Shisui completely out of her field of vision. Out of sight, out of mind, people would say.If her straying thoughts her anything to go by, Izumi found it rather inaccurate.She’d find him later and talk to him then, she decided. (And then she’d wash her hands of this matter.)Uchiha Ren was dead, and his family was in mourning. But, as always, the world would continue to turn. Izumi would still wake up in her bed the next day, unchanged and unaffected, and go about her usual daily routine. Miles upon miles away, people would continue to give their lives in pursuit of victory in a fruitless war. This was life, she supposed. The Academy would be starting soon. And with it, so would Izumi’s first steps towards becoming a shinobi.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

"How did you skip a year?" the girl beside Izumi whispered quietly, pupilless blue eyes practically boring holes into her.Fuyuki-sensei was still giving an overview of their daily schedule at the board, and it took quite some bravery to speak during his lecture. Izumi took a moment to place her name—Yamanaka Inoko. Delicate features, blonde hair, inquisitive and confident, much like how one would imagine a stereotypical info-gathering Yamanaka. Izumi didn't mind the curiosity, as long as it didn't get them into trouble. "I don't really know," she whispered back, "but I guess it was because I did good enough on the entrance exam?" Yes, good. Good was a vague term, and it perfectly embodied just how out-of-touch Izumi was with the whole skipping-a-year fiasco. "Good on the entrance exam," Inoko echoed dubiously. "Just how well did you do?"Briefly, Izumi took the time to appreciate the fact that they weren't seated right at the front of the classroom. Small mercies. "Well enough to skip a year," she quipped back, because she had no idea. Whoever had been in charge of this, nobody had deigned to inform much to little girl bearing the brunt of it all. It figured. "Now we're just going in circles. Do you really not know anything?" "They probably just thought I knew too much to go to the first year at academy. It's not that big of a deal." At least, she didn't want her classmates to think it was. Nothing good came out of seeming too different to fit in with her peers.Inoko gave her an odd look. "I think skipping a year is really cool," she murmured. "You should be prouder of it!"Izumi paused.Prouder of it? If she had truly been a 4-year-old, no memories of Before included, she might have been. But that was neither here nor there, and she felt no achievement in doing better than verifiable toddlers at a test, especially when it would only bring her closer to graduation. To a career as a soldier. A brief curl of bitterness flickered in her chest, but she brushed it off quickly."Yes," Izumi nodded, injecting some sincerity into her voice. "I'm really happy about it, and my parents are too!"No, they were not. Her mother had left the elders with a flat face and her father was practically sick with worry before he'd left (again) for the frontlines. Izumi hated it.There wasn't much she could do about it, though. "Inoko, Izumi," Fuyuki-sensei's voice cut in abruptly. Izumi smothered an involuntary jerk. Shoot, she'd gotten too distracted. "Have anything to share with the class?""No, I'm sorry, sensei." Izumi shook her head apologetically, looking him right in the eyes as her classmate echoed her words.Just smile and apologize, nothing to see here. To her absolute annoyance, Izumi had been shuffled off to her first day at the Academy with only the bare-bones knowledge of how everything would work, considering how she'd jumped a year ahead, courtesy of some nosy elders with fingers in too many pies. Or, at least, who she assumed was the elders, because no one had told her anything. Not even her parents—which stung just a little. Ergo, it was best for her to for her to talk with the man saddled with the responsibility of teaching her, Fuyuki-sensei. Communication was always key, after all. With that thought, at the end of school, Izumi waved goodbye to Inoko and her other seatmates before setting out to look for him. It took a few minutes of wandering around and asking questions for her to finally approach what she assumed was the teachers' breakroom. Izumi knocked on the door. "Who is it?" a voice called. "Uchiha Izumi. I'm hoping to ask a few questions to Fuyuki-sensei about my curriculum." "The Uchiha brat? Fuyuki, you're up!" a distictly male tone hollered. After a few seconds, the door slid open, and Fuyuki-sensei appeared, sighing ruefully all the while. Izumi had to crane her neck up to just meet his eyes—he was tall. She bowed respectfully. "I apologize for interrupting your time, but I wanted to get some help to learn what I've missed."Fuyuki-sensei combed his fingers through his hair, obvious eyebags under his eyes. "No, it's fine, I already finished eating anyway." He started down the hallway, closing the door behind him. "Just follow me to the office, and we'll talk there."  With how tired he seemed, Izumi didn't bother making pointless small talk on the way there. Thus, the walk back was quiet, but not awkwardly so, since neither of them cared much.Izumi even dared to say that Fuyuki-sensei's earthy chakra had a tinge of appreciation to it.By the time they finally reached his office, the man practically collapsed onto his chair and raised a brow. Izumi leapt at the chance to speak. "I've skipped a year, so I wish to review content that I may have missed. Sensei, do you have any recommendations for textbooks and training?""...You're asking me this?" Fuyuki-sensei grunted, eyeing her strangely. "Usually, it's your own clan that handles this. They're much better at specialized training."...Well, that was new information that Izumi would've liked to know about way earlier, but it was fine. Her request still stood. "Yes," she bulldozed through, "but I'd rather check myself to be sure that I haven't missed anything. Better safe than sorry."Fuyuki-sensei's eyes were far too scrutinizing for Izumi's comfort. "Sure. Which topics do you want books on?"She blinked. "History, please. Preferably about the Warring States, but I'm fine with any periods as long as it's informative."By the time she finished speaking, he was already writing on a notebook. A few lines down, and he tore off the piece of paper and handed it to her. "Names on the left, topics on the right. Anything else?"A quick glance down already left her with some interesting titles. Izumi folded it and put it into her pocket. "Yes," she said. "About the sparring you said we'd be starting next week, I've never learned the Academy—""Taijutsu?" Fuyuki-sensei cut in, sighing. "Don't worry about it. Academy style isn't required. You can use whatever clan techniques you have. My mistake, I should have specified this earlier when I was explaining."Izumi nodded. Great—none of these were actual problems that needed solving. "That's it, then. I don't have anymore questions. Thank you, sensei."Another grunt. "No problem. Just ask me whenever you need it."Izumi couldn't help but eye her teacher's eyebags. Fuyuki-sensei may have said so, but he looked and sounded way too exhausted to be dealing with a class hyperactive wanna-be-shinobi children. Izumi wasn't even the one in charge of dealing with them, and she still felt drained after a full day of interaction. To be the one responsible for controlling and teaching them—it sounded like an easy path to end up six feet under. A sudden cough interrupted her thoughts. Blinking, Izumi met Fuyuki-sensei's skeptical gaze once again. Automatically, she turned on her heel and waved. "Bye, sensei. Have a good sleep!"Whatever. She had more to do in life than debate over her teacher's choice in job. Even if he seemed like a few bad days away from dying of overwork.   “Again!” Daisuke-sama barked.Izumi shifted back onto her feet, bloody scrapes aching as she settled back carefully into her starting stance.One second. Two.“Start.”Yuto burst into action, fist swiping at what would’ve been her neck area, had Izumi not dodged. Another step had her right into his guard, and she sent a punch right at his solar plexus.With his arm, Yuto glanced off the blow to his side, and hooked a foot under her leg. Izumi just barely sidestepped, leaving him unbalanced, and it was enough to trip him up with a stomp onto his foot and a shove.He latched his arm onto hers just in time, and they both went tumbling. Yuto had the weight advantage, but Izumi was faster, throwing her mass onto him, a knee at his abdomen and an arm at his throat.He was breathing hard, the wind definitely knocked out of him from her knee, but he hadn’t given in yet. Izumi narrowed her eyes and pressed—“Winner, Izumi.” Daisuke-sama intoned. “Disengage.”Finally.She inhaled through the adrenaline and achievement rushing through her veins, removing her knee and arm from her opponent and standing up on wobbly legs. Yuto took a moment for a breather, before getting up the same way she did.They were both winded and tired. The speed at which their last match ended was a testament to that. Yuto usually put up a bigger fight, and Izumi could feel her strength flagging.But Daisuke-sama wasn’t done with them yet, apparently.“Again!” he yelled, and Izumi wanted to collapse onto the ground and groan.Against her greatest desires, both she and her sparring partner moved back into their stances, panting all the while.The bruises on her body would probably end up purpling tomorrow. Better end things quickly, then. This time, Izumi attacked first. She feinted a punch and sent a low kick to Yuto’s knee. It hit him hard, and his weight crumpled, but not before he threw a fist Izumi barely blocked.She could practically feel the bruise forming. Yuto hit hard, a lesson she’d learned early on at the expense of her poor arms. Now, Izumi tried to dodge more than parry.His other punch, too fast for her to react, hit home, however, right onto her nose, and Izumi’s head snapped back from the impact.She smothered a groan, eyes watering.Fuck, it hurt.But her hand still gained a good hold onto his shirt, and she rode the force of his punch to twist and drag him right onto the ground.Her attempt was a bit off, though, and Yuto wasn’t the one hitting the ground first. They both fell onto their sides, with Yuto wrapping an arm around Izumi’s neck while she was still flailing from the pain in her nose.As she tried to break from his hold, his legs hooked around hers, and it was over.“Winner, Yuto. Disengage.”Under Daisuke-sama’s piercing gaze, Izumi shuffled onto her feet, blinking her watery eyes and trying not to wince. To a bit of her vindictive pleasure, Yuto wasn’t in a much better state.They both faced each other and performed the seal of reconciliation.Yuto’s face was as firm-set as ever, serious in a way children usually weren’t. Izumi didn’t mind it, since he was a good sparring partner from the year above her, and he won their fights more often than not.He’d been a great help to her taijutsu, with none of the self-absorbed cockiness that made an opponent oftentimes frustrating to fight.“Not bad,” Daisuke-sama allowed, and Izumi just barely smothered her double take. The strict and stoic elder with a colossal stick up his ass—admitting this to her face?It seemed like Izumi had another topic to talk about with her mom during dinner today.“Yuto, improve your stamina. Izumi, improve your reaction time.” Daisuke-sama’s voice was steel-hard, his eyes narrowed. “Understand?”Izumi and Yuto both voiced their acknowledgement.The man reassessed them once again. “Leave. We will meet here again in two days' time.”All in all, it had been a productive few weeks, even if Izumi's whole body ached to the bones.