Trickling stream

“What do you think of sacrifice?” Kanae finds herself asking one day. It’s not- the Hatake hasn’t come yet, but Kanae has no doubt it’s going to be soon. Because Hatake has aniki’s eye, a sharingan, grafted onto his socket by her brother’s other teammate, a young med-nin he’s obsessed with, and Kanae still wants to cry when she thinks about it too hard.

But Kanae had heard- from the Yellow Flash himself, from the man Aniki trusted so much - that it was a gift from Aniki to his teammate, that what happened was circumstances and bad situations, and that none of them wanted it to happen. And the thing is Kanae can see it.

Aniki, Obito, giving away his most precious thing, his sight, and their bloodline, in his last moment, terrified but so, so happy he managed to save his comrade, someone he trusted. Obito, who is so caring and giving and helpful, who smiles at her everyday, who basically raised her, who dreams so big and smiles so wide.

Her Aniki.

And she wants - needs to know if she’s doing right, if what she planned will be fine.

Kochou looks up from her book. It’s a weird one, this time. “A basic guide to herbal medicine.”

Basic, but not really. It’s written by a rather… passionate Nara. It’s thoughts upon thoughts, jumping from thread to thread. Kanae can’t understand it at all, really. It’s been sitting dusty in the corner of the library for a long time now, or so Kanae thinks.

There’s consideration in Kochou’s gaze, careful calculation and word weighing. Kanae can see machinations turning, but for the life of her, she can’t figure out what she makes of it. Hana is playing around at the riverside, as always.

After a moment, Kochou slowly says.

“I think… that is a noble thing. Stupid, but noble.”

It’s-… Kochou is looking at her, eyes searching. For what, she doesn’t say, nor does Kanae wish to know. And Kanae agrees. What a stupid, stupid notion, really.

“But, in the end, it is a decision. I respect the dead’s wishes. If they want to give their life, who am I to refuse?”

Kochou is… whimsical, Kanae wants to say. Uncaring, half delusion, unfeeling- the whole lot. But she holds her tongue. Because it’s an opinion. Kanae asked for one, and that is what she gets. Fire bubbles in her veins nonetheless.

“Why? Would you not stop them?”

Would I not stop him?

Kanae asks herself, more than anything. She understands, of course she does, but that doesn’t mean she accepts it. No. Kanae still, to this day, wishes her Aniki was a little bit more selfish, a little less giving, because he’s her Aniki and he’s supposed to be here-

“Why would I?”

And her thoughts get cut off. Kochou, closed book - damn, when has that happened? Kanae needs to be more aware of her surroundings, and it’s bad that Kochou no longer feels the need to divert her attention - is looking directly at her. She’s calm - how can she be so calm - staring into Kanae’s eyes. Green green green-

Kanae takes a breath, then practically growls out.

“Elaborate.”

Kochou seems calm. Seems to want to spread that calm to Kanae, but Kanae has always been a much, much more violent person than Kochou is used to, and she is willing to blow up in her face. She doesn’t want to, but Kanae can do it.

One of Kochou’s hands is held up in placating gestures, gentle and soft words failing to do her bidding. In the distance, Kanae can spy Hana crouching, staring, like a huntress. Still and tense. In the back of her mind, she can appreciate the protectiveness, given there’s pebbles in her hands she wouldn’t hesitate to throw straight at Kanae before she harms Kochou.

“Who are you to disrespect their choice?”

And Kanae can’t answer it without telling her own story, does she? A question for a question indeed. And-

“I’m his sister-! He’s mine and then he just up and died on a mission, and-! And-!”

Kanae clams up, feeling tears spilling out, hot and wet on her cheek. She shakingly sits down when did she stand up? breathing heavily. It’s bad, bad memory. Be gone. She doesn’t want to talk about it, doesn’t want to think about it-

But Kochou is merciless, isn’t she? 

“Yes, but you are not him.”

She speaks like she knows it all, calm and settled, like nothing will faze her anymore- and isn’t it true? In the end, this is all just a fundamental question. Kochou knows there’s more to it, of course there is, it’s Kanae, she’s an Uchiha a multilayered puzzle of the most violent kind. But she’s choosing to de-escalate the situation, and Kanae can appreciate that. Doesn’t mean she doesn’t want to scream at her.

“You are not your brother. You do not have the same bond, the same feelings, thoughts and logic. You do not stand for him.”

Kochou presses on with absolute brutality and cold hard logic. It’s hard to stay mad at her. Kanae averts her eyes, hands trembling as she wraps them around her curled up knees.

“So do not presume you know what happened. His wish is his own. You can wish, can beg, can ask of him more and more and more. But whether to give is his choice. If it is his life he is giving, who are you to argue with that?”

She curls in on herself, because shit, that is a harsh truth. A flinch runs through her. It hurts, remembering her Aniki and knowing that he chose someone else over returning home to her, like a knife twisting in her heart, like cotton stuffed down her lungs-

“Even the dead demand respect. There are few things to do but to live on in the wake of tragedy. You can’t change what has already been done, nor can you raise the dead from their slumber. At the very least… allow their will to live on, and let them rest in peace knowing their request is done for.”

Kochou’s voice is soothing, soft. Calming. Kanae doesn’t want calm at all. She wants anger, wants something to blame- but she doesn’t want to put Kochou there. Kochou is a kid, her friend, first one even, and she doesn’t want to do that to her.

She sniffles, quite pathetically really, and keeps her eyes to the ground. The background noises are nice, but not really distracting. She can’t- she can’t get lost in those sounds. There is a soft sigh, then the grass shuffling, and Kanae is suddenly vividly aware of the fact that Kochou is near.

“Anka. Can I come closer, or do you want me here?”

She tries to curl in further, but to no avail. The tree behind her is at least something grounding. Her voice seems so distant.

“It’s fine. Breathe with me. In. Out.”

Kanae can’t breathe, not with the clump in her throat, the cry threatening to tear out from her throat

“Anka.”

Please, please, someone tell her it’s not true-

“Anka-”

Her Aniki isn’t dead yet, please-

“Anka!”

Suddenly there's a hand on her shoulder, palm cupping her cheek, the grip soft but unrelenting, even as she struggles against the abrupt stimulation.

She stares into green green eyes filled with concern, and the pain twisting in her chest flares so much more, because that’s her first friend, the first one who ever looks at her and sees. She is a shinobi in training, she’s much stronger than Kochou. What if she accidentally hurts her? What would she do then? She can’t bear losing another person please please please-

Ugly sobs break past the imaginary block she puts in her mind, her chest heaving as she struggles to draw breath, to stop herself from losing composure like this, it’s undignified-!

Kanae finds herself pressed against soft skin and warm body, hands clutching at ratty fabric in a desperate attempt to ground herself. There’s arms around her, firm but gentle, drawing her in. She’s half kneeling, nose buried against the crook of Kochou’s neck, the light cut off by her hair. It tickles, Kanae realizes. 

She crumbles in that embrace, ugly, wrecked sounds being pulled out of her, as tears flow down her cheeks and her mind struggles to comprehend everything.

Kochou doesn’t offer empty promises, no “it will be alright”, no “you will be fine”, no “calm down”, nothing. She lends her warmth and calm to Kanae, so she can crumble and fall apart. It’s safe, in her mind.

It’s not supposed to be, Kanae thinks hysterically, sobbing, because Kochou for sure isn’t a shinobi, not stronger than she is, and definitely makes no more protection than a paper door. But she feels safe, like home and sitting by a fireplace and waiting. Reassuring.

“Cry. I’m here.”

And it opens another dam, doesn’t it?

Kanae cries on Kochou's shoulder until she can’t do it anymore.

Ayaka knows the air of predators well. It’s something inane, for many, to look and see something else.

But it’s useful, because Ayaka is not a predator yet. She’s prey, and so is her twin, and they are weak. She needs the knowledge, the ability to know to engage or run away. In some way, the new, weird instincts serve her well in this regard.

Anka is a predator.

It’s evident, really, in the way she carries herself. Sure and steady, stealthily. Despite the despair and sadness that cling to her mind and chakra, Anka is a predator. Sharp eyes and quick mind, with a swiftness Ayaka can appreciate.

Ayaka doesn’t mind Anka, all things told.

But what she does mind, is that Anka has latched onto her twin.

Literally, this time.

And- And- It’s annoying. Ann is Ayaka’s and vice versa, there was never anyone else in the equation. And she knows that this isn’t healthy behavior, has to, what with all the psychology books she picked up as Clara, but she can hardly care.

It’s a huge thing, to leave her twin in the care of a predator, when Ann is so visible a prey, all fragile and soft edges. But hidden underneath the gentle exterior is a will of steel and stone, and at least she can trust her twin to handle herself well.

Contrary to what people think, to what people see when they look at her and dismiss her, Ayaka isn’t a happy-go-lucky girl, with an optimistic attitude and her head on the cloud. No, Clara had been a prodigy, psychopathic but well targeted. Ayaka, however. Ayaka is a genius, with the sort of instinct that breaks or makes miracles and observation skills built and honed for survival.

She knows Anka is a predator, but never would she hunt Ann. Could see it in the way those dark eyes drink up the sight of her twin, the way her body almost imperceptibly lean toward Ann whenever she is close, the way she would casually, without even a word or hesitation, position herself like a guard would for her. 

Anka reacts to Ann as much as Ayaka does, and it should irritate her, except she understands. Her twin is a magnet of the worst kind, with the calm she radiates. You never even know if you have been pulled in until you can’t get out.

Perhaps a spider would be a better moniker for her. Ayaka muses. Except not really, because spiders don't have the way of luring like butterflies do. And those fragile, fragile creatures can be ruthless and so lethal if they wish.

Anka has already fallen, a stray dog begging for the right sort of attention, but with the pricks of a hedgehog, something that her twin so easily provides for. 

Ayaka looks at Anka and sees a hound, ready to lunge on command. But she doesn’t trust just any commander to take her leash, does she? Want something more than this village will provide, even with the indoctrination and propaganda spreading around this part. 

For all its preaching of the Will of Fire, Konoha, the village hidden in the leaf, is a military dictatorship, who will use and break Anka until she can give no more, with her kind heart and thirst for acknowledgement. Anka, who has a mind rivaling her twin, who can challenge Ayaka’s belief, who strikes her as something familiar.

Ayaka has seen this before, been this before.

Anka is like Clara, but much, much worse. A broken mess with too smart a mind and too much awareness, who reaches for loyalty and gains nothing back, who lives and breathes pack and family. Who hasn’t yet learned to hide her sense of self away, covering up her vulnerable belly and turning a blind eye to the world. 

Ayaka wanted to attack the moment Anka broke down, when she cut off her own sounds and crushed it under her control but didn't quite manage. Only her twin’s signal stops her. It looks like a calming gesture, a peace offering, but Ayaka knows and sees the steel in Ann’s spine at that moment. She can’t help but follow the unspoken order.

Perhaps Ayaka is too permissive, too optimistic in her assessment, but she looks at Anka and sees a kindred spirit, who needs a home, an anchor, somewhere to settle down.

And Ayaka has seen first hand how efficient her twin is at the role, has been the one to be calmed down and found her soul soothed by the acceptance she gives, has seen the care Ann gives for those who lost their way, noted the fondness in her green green eyes when she looks at children. Has been steered away from things she wasn’t ready for.

Anka needs Ann in the way a man lost in a desert needs water, like a plant is desperate for life.

Need her as natural as one needs to breathe. 

Ayaka looks at the tight grip Anka has on Ann, and lowers her hands. She wouldn’t need to defend Ann from Anka, never would.

Perhaps, perhaps…

This time, Ann has gained a protector, and Ayaka doesn’t feel the need to worry.

This time,  Ayaka would bet her heart on Anka, would bet that she would rather tear out her own heart and lung before she lays a hand on her twin.

Ayaka lowers her hand and lets the pebbles fall back to the riverside. She turns away in respect, hoping, praying, that this time she hasn’t made the wrong choice.