Chapter 1
There is something about her that isn’t normal. Something that sets her apart from everyone else.
It's nothing as superficial as the color of her hair or even her eyes. Rather, it's more so that there's something inside her that feels just a little bit off. A quiet presence dwelling behind her thoughts that tingles and tugs at her senses.
It’s small enough at first that it’s simple for her to overlook, to ignore. But over time, it gets harder not to notice. In the way she is all too aware of everything around her, of the inexplicable knowledge of things she shouldn't be privy to. The more she seeks it out the more she sees the picture it's slowly beginning to paint. It is not a pleasant one.
It starts falling into place by the time she is three years old and doing her utmost to hide away in her mother’s embrace. Trying in vain to block out the world from invading her senses. She’s been sick before, but this might be the worst she’s ever felt.
Her skin feels hot but there’s a chill deep in her bones. She can hear the distant roll of thunder even though the sky is clear and the sun is out. It’s all so bright and far too loud. It's even worse for her nose, the offending scent of every little thing reaching her makes her retch.
It doesn’t help that the presence in her mind seems just as distressed and confused as she is about the whole ordeal, overwhelming her even more. It leaves her with a persistent headache and she curls in on herself further.
Her mother does her best to take care of her, rubbing soothing circles on her back while whispering words of comfort in an attempt to calm her down but she can tell that she’s just as lost.
What’s wrong with me? She wants to ask but all that comes out of her mouth is a strangled sob.
There's the sound of the door sliding open and the thunder is abruptly amplified. It gets louder and closer and now she can somehow smell the ozone in the air and she presses her face further into her mother’s stomach.
She doesn’t understand why there’s a storm brewing in the room or why this is happening to her now when it was never this bad before but she just wants everything to stop hurting.
She cries out as firm, calloused hands lift her away from her mother’s grasp. Panic quickly sets and she flails around from the hold. Just when it feels like she’ll go deaf from the thunder’s roaring, as it’s about to reach its crescendo, feels as if she might just die , it just—
Stops.
Teary eyes open in confusion at the unexpected moment of peace. The silence is solely broken by her soft whimpers and stilted breaths but even that peters out as she settles down. There is humming in the air, but not like the melodic sound from the lullabies her mother sings to her. This one is more of the energy around her thrumming with power, enveloping her and muting her surroundings.
The hold on her shifts and a voice above slowly speaks, “Tomoe-chan?”
Tomoe. It's—that's her name, she knows it is but there's some part of her saying—no , that isn't right, it's all wrongwrongWRONG.
Blinking in a daze, she tentatively tilts her head up and sees her father holding her. Right as she starts to calm down, her body tenses as the presence in her mind springs in alarm at the sight of the accessory tied around his forehead.
For a split second, as she looks up at her father, with his silver hair and dark eyes, her vision overlaps and she sees a similar looking man with the same hair and eyes. Only this other man wears a mask covering half his face and the metal plate is slanted over his left eye.
She doesn't know how or why, but she knows with utmost certainty that the eye hidden underneath is bright red and powerful.
She blinks the image away and is surprised to find she’s crying again as she looks at her father’s bare face. His worried expression is even more pronounced than earlier. He holds his hand up to wipe the tears on her cheeks.
“It’s alright, now. I got you. Papa’s got you.” He says.
The deep cadence of his voice alongside her mother’s soft hands continuously rubbing at her back lets her relax fully, melting into their touch. She is so, so tired. Her body is exhausted from crying and from everything flooding her senses. She leans forward with her arms curling around her father’s neck, her eyes closing.
The hold on her shifts and she’s vaguely aware that they’re moving somewhere. When she opens her eyes again, she finds that they’re now out in the engawa. Her mother is nowhere in sight but she can hear the faint movement to where the kitchen is.
They stay that way for a few moments. Sitting in relative peace and quiet and letting herself bask in the comforting warmth of her father’s embrace.
“Are you feeling better now, Tomoe-chan?” he asks eventually, voice soft.
She nods meekly, cheeks slightly flushed from the earlier exertion as she buries her face in her father’s chest.
“It’s not there anymore.” She says quietly. Her father makes a curious sound and she continues. “It was loud and—and I could feel ev’rything. And it hurt my head and...”
She trails off, not really knowing how to explain it when she seems fine now. Her face reddens and she ducks her head in embarrassment. Her father is surely disappointed with her for the trouble she’s caused them. Her stomach sinks when she hears him sigh but then she feels gentle hands combing through her hair. She lets out a whine in pleasure at the soothing gesture.
“You know, I went through something similar when I was your age.” he says.
She peeks her head upwards curiously from where she's sitting in his lap. “You did?”
“Yes. You see, I have a very keen nose.” he points to it, smiling wryly. “Smelling delicious food and fresh flowers is all well and good, but then I also smell dirty laundry or the garbage dump at the same time. I kept crying for hours and hours as a young boy.”
He huffs out a short laugh from the skeptical look she gives him. She just can't picture her father as a small kid who's just as much of a crying mess as she's been.
“It's true! I'd cry myself sick from picking up scents all throughout Fire country.” He then hums in consideration. “You no doubt have a Hatake's senses. However, yours are more…”
He adjusts his hold around her so he's able to fully face her.
“Tell me—Tomoe-chan, what can you sense around you at this moment?”
She tilts her head to the side, thinking it over with her eyes closed.
Everything around her is all muffled now so she goes with what's closest: the warmth of her father's body along with the steady rise and fall of his chest where her small hands are resting. There’s the soft sound of his quiet breaths and she even smells the faint traces of something earthy clinging to him.
There is also the presence, although not as apparent now. It only lightly brushes at the surface of her thoughts, seemingly curious about what's taking place.
When she puts more focus into it, she feels that same energy earlier. Enveloping her and smothering everything out. Then she frowns in confusion. Underneath it, she can make out the barest hint of ozone in the air and the distinct crackling spark of a storm brewing just like from before. Muffled but there all the same.
Her eyes fly open. She stares incredulously at her father who grins back when she realizes that it’s coming from him .
“How come papa feels like a thundercloud?” she asks in wonder to which he only gives an amused chuckle.
“I believe that would be my chakra signature.”
Chakra. That’s what it's called, the energy she'd been sensing all this time. Since she's able to sense it, he also tells her a little bit about the different elemental natures—with lightning, the one she feels from him, being his strongest. He only goes so far as to explain to her the basics, of how everything and everyone around them possesses chakra including her.
“Though I'm afraid I'm not as good a chakra sensor as you, Tomoe-chan. I won’t be able to tell what yours feel like, but you might if you give it time.”
Now that she’s looking for it, she can feel a similar thrum of energy radiating from herself but too small and too weak for her to make out anything more than that.
“Is it bad that I can feel it?” she asks but her father shakes his head.
“Not at all.” he reassures her. “I won't deny that it can be daunting, being able to sense so much more than most all at once. But it does get better with time. And once you learn to manage that, it can become one of your greatest strengths.”
She nods and goes to settle back down when her gaze lands on the metal plate glinting on her father’s forehead, the light of the setting sun reflected on its surface. There’s an itch forming in the back of her head, a sign of how she knows that the presence is paying attention. It’s still unusually fixated on the thing, particularly at the symbol drawn on the center.
She doesn’t notice how much she’s been staring at it. Not until her father taps it with a perplexed smile before he unties the cloth band and places it in her hands, metal plate facing up. Her fingers brush around the carved lines of the symbol.
She doesn’t really know what it’s supposed to mean but strangely enough, the presence seems to recognize it, finding its significance when she hasn’t. It doesn’t appear to be forthcoming with what it found out, however, so she turns to her father and asks the silent question.
“This is a hitai-ate, every shinobi wears one.” he starts out, a hint of pride in his voice. His hand gestures to the item, pointing at the center. “The symbol engraved here represents the village they serve. For this one, it is the symbol of the leaf—of Konoha. It is the village we live in and the village I’ve sworn to protect.”
Konoha, the presence echoes with an air of resignation.
“If I become a shee—shinobi, do I get to have one too, papa?” she asks, slightly perking up. She ignores the vague impression of dismay coming from the presence in favor of her father’s answer.
It earns her a smile from him and a ruffle to her hair which she tries to swat away. “We’ll have to wait and see when you’re a little older, pup.”
“Wha–but papa, I wan—” her sentence is cut when her father leans down and rubs his cheeks against hers.
“Maa, Tomoe-chan.” he drawls, eyes crinkling into near crescent shapes at her squeals. “I can’t understand you if you don’t use your words.”
“Spiky!” she shrieks in accusation. “Mama! Papa’s spiky!”
The only response she hears from her mother is her soft laughter as she approaches them. Even the presence seems to take joy in her current predicament and she can’t help but be affronted at their betrayal.
“Come now, Sakumo.” her mother says sweetly, hiding an amused smile behind the long sleeve of her yukata. “Let Tomoe-chan go and help me with supper.”
Her father barks out a laugh when she dives down to hide her head in his neck the moment he lets up. He shakes his head at her sulking as he walks, carrying her towards the kitchen.
Later, once they’re done with the meal, they all settle down for the evening. Her parents tuck her into bed, laying soft kisses on her head.
“I won’t be at home all the time to help but for tomorrow, I’d like to teach you something.” Her father says, voice hushed as he lingers a while longer. “Though it’s something you’ll be learning a few years from now, at the academy as part of your shinobi training. However, I’ve learned that this exercise can help a great deal with what you’re going through right now. It certainly would have helped me with adjusting my own senses had I known about it sooner. Is that alright with you Tomoe-chan?”
“M’kay, papa.”
She feels his hand give a gentle ruffle to her hair, the last one for the night.
When she sleeps, she dreams of the strange man. This time his Konoha hitai-ate is slanted up like her father’s to reveal a strange eye—black swirls spinning in crimson pools.