Chapter Text
My name is Yamanaka Mitsuha, third child and only daughter from previous Clan Head Yamanaka Inosaku and younger sister to Yamanaka Inoichi, the current Clan Head. As far as everyone is concerned, I’m supposed to be some kind of spoiled, protected young princess, but if I were to be honest-
I kinda hate living.
No, I’m not suicidal. No, I don’t have any kind of mental condition, such as depression or anything. And yes, I know that I am a baby, barely out of diapers, too young to even consider feeling this way.
Weird, right?
In my defense, I think everyone would also think the same if they were in my shoes.
The truth is, I'm ill. And I don't think it's the type that can be easily fixed, like a flu or something.
“Poor little Mitsuha-chan."
"May the gods heal her soul."
If I could, I would scoff. But, sadly, I'm not capable of doing that yet—
You see, currently, I'm a tiny baby. One that has no control of neck muscles, can't keep her head straight, and much less doing complex sounds such as scoffing. It's both annoying and humbling, to be reduced to a pathetic state like this.
Heavy head that feels more like a cannonball than a head at all. Foggy vision that can't distinguish anything further than one palm in front of my eyes. Pudgy, useless arms that feel more like jelly than anything, alongside tiny hands with even tinier fingers that don't close properly around anything. Annoying, annoying, annoying, all of them.
But definitely, what takes the trophy is the goddamn noise.
Like, what? Can't a girl have some peace around here?
Everyone is so loud. People around here don't seem to have a concept of inside voice, it seems. They always talk to each other in absurd volumes, as if they had serious hearing problems, went around the house banging on the floors— And that's not even starting on the damned music.
Why the hell was music constantly playing on the background? And it wasn't even the good kind! Instead of hearing some classical tunes or something equally mind numbing, the music in my head was like someone went to a rock concert— except for them staying by the gigantic music boxes with their ears glued to the speakers, blowing their eardrums in the dumbest way possible. At some point, you can't even hear anything anymore, instead, being able to physically feel the soundwaves in your skin.
To be honest, I'm surprised my brain hasn't melted yet. It surely feels like it's about to, though. Sometimes I wonder how I'm even able to hear through all that static, but hey, if it's working, I'm not going to complain. At least not too much.
The Elders leave our home after leaving their players and blessings at my crib. One of them whispers— or at least, seems to whisper, even if her voice echoes in my head as loudly as ever— as soon as she gets out of the front door, a hand splayed on her cheek as she leaves alongside the rest of the clan elders. “I can’t imagine being in Inoichi-kun and Kouji-kun’s shoes right now... Not even a year has passed since Inosaku-kun has passed away and now they have this to deal with.”
“Such is the way of the Shinobi life. Harsh, but not entirely unheard of." A man shakes his head, stern. Despite the hardass exterior, his fists clench so loudly that his bones rattle.
“I wonder if that will compromise her brothers' work.” The third Elder, also a man, wonders, humming under his beard.
“Of course it will!” The woman clicks her tongue, astounded by the lack of empathy. "It's Inosaku-kun's daughter! She might not been here for long, but she's part of the Clan!"
“Part of the Clan, or not, we must face reality: there’s nothing we can do for Mitsuha-chan." The first man says, a hint of grief in his voice. "That's something Inoichi-kun and Kouji-kun must acknowledge, even if they resist it. They are invaluable shinobi and these are tough times, Konoha can’t afford to spare them, not when Iwa is knocking on our borders.”
That's... Surely depressing. I can’t help but feel miserable.
Perhaps, in another world, things would be better if I wasn’t born.
I don’t remember Dad. He died months ago, before my eyes could even open themselves. I never had the chance to take him in, to find out the color of his hair or of his eyes. Did he have the same dirty blonde hair as Inoichi-nii? Or maybe he had Kouji-nii’s lighter blonde? Did he wear it long, maybe even in a ponytail, just like the men of our clan?
According to Inoichi-nii, Dad died when I was around five-months old. I don’t recall a single detail about his appearance, but I do remember how he felt when he held me.
Love. Safe. Solid as earth, steady as stone. Reliable. He felt like someone that would be there when I fell.
If he had survived, that is.
It was on a rainy night, him being the one in charge of taking care of me while Inoichi-nii was away on a mission. He was sat on the soft armchair next to my crib, struggling to make me burp, when he started to talk about Dad.
You see, it was not uncommon for my brothers to tell me stories about our parents. While they weren't here anymore, it was clear that both Kouji-nii and Inoichi-nii loved and missed them, and that they somehow hoped that their memories of them could get me used to the idea of them. However, their stories usually lingered on the lighter side— Funny annecdotes, some shenanigans or even some of their most famous exploit in battles. According to Kouji-nii, who had a serious case of Hero-worship for Mom, she was one of the most impressive shinobi the Yamanaka clan had ever produced, to the point of being chosen as one of the Daimiyo's guards back in her prime. Dad, in contrast, wasn't featured in those stories, but I think it's because his specialty wasn't one suited to baby stories.
That night, however, Kouji-nii didn't tell any of the stories I was expecting. Instead, with tired eyes and an exhaustion that shouldn't be present on a 13 year old's shoulders, he quietly spoke about his guilt. About he felt useless, not being able to stop Dad from marching to his death.
According to him, he should have seen the signs before tragedy came, should have stopped Dad from leaving to the frontlines, or at least, should have asked someone to look out for him. While Dad was a great man, he wasn’t infallible. According to others, he was never the same since Mom died, and perhaps, that was enough to make one of our clan’s best warriors to fall in line of duty. Kouji-nii thinks that Dad secretly yearned to meet Mom in the afterlife.
(Inoichi-nii and Kouji-nii argued downstairs about it once. In the middle of their shouting match, Kouji-nii accused Dad of abandoning his children in the worst time of their lives by themselves. Inoichi-nii did not take it well. It took about three weeks and Inoichi-nii almost collapsing while trying to take care of me by himself for them to reconcile.)
I coughed, the surprise making me choke in baby formula and making Kouji-nii momentairly forget his grief in favor of panicking. He quickly turned me around, giving me gentle taps on my back and soothing the reflexive tears that broke out, heavy feelings forgotten in favor of concern.
After that scare passed, I quickly made sure to shower him in affection, biting his shoulder gruffily with my teethless mouth. Not that he knew that. Or I would was able to understand his feelings, of course, but anyway.
Mom was another whole can of worms. She died in childbirth. According to Elder Yachiku, I am a carbon copy of her. We share the same strawberry blonde hair, the same almond eye-shape and the same light blue pupil-less eyes. Elder Yachiku, who is actually my grandfather, from Mom’s side, actually burst into tears when he first saw me after receiving the news of Mom’s death. It was a messy affair. He had just arrived from a rotation at the frontlines to a dead daughter and had to be restrained and sedated for his own sake.
(Since then, he never visited our home. I can’t blame him, not when I am a perfect reminder of what he lost.)
Grief is scary. The thing about it is that it always comes from love. And because of the existence of love, we are doomed to hate, grief and pain.
In a similar way, I am doomed to cause pain for my family. It’s something that I have known since I was born.
“—GET OUT OF THE WAY!” Inoichi roars. “ I need a medic! My sister—”
My tiny fists tremble right where I’m trying to get a grip on the material of Inoichi-nii’s flak jacket, feeling every single impact as he rushes inside the building at high speed. His chest weaves with each breath, each one coming harsher than the previous one, in a crescendo with no ceiling in sight. There are a bunch of loud noises around us and I can barely hear what he is yelling between the racket outside and my headache. I’m burning hot enough to have a seizure, having emptied my stomach hours before and being unable to fill my lungs with air properly.
“...Yamanaka-sama, I need you to calm down—”
It hurts.
I can't hear anything properly. The words, usually so mudded, but still somehow audible in between all the static, are barely distinguishable over the roaring thunder in my head.
“—get her to the operation room… Page Akinobu-sensei… we need to get her some blood bags…– ”
I want it to stop.
“—her heart is stopping—!”
Please, make it stop—!
Silence. Null.
For the first time in my life, the noises in the background fadeout until nothingness, finally relieving my brain from the constant nail hammering. My body relaxes in a way that I realize how much tension it was submitted to before, leaving behind a dull ache deep into my muscles.
It’s… weird.
To be pain-free, I mean.
…
Did I die?
…
…
Light invades my eyelids, making me twitch and whine involuntarily. There is something annoying attached to my forehead and going all the way into my nose, diverging into both my cheeks and dropping down into the rest of my body. It feels finicky and itchy, but I can’t use my hands to scratch it.
Wait, what…? Didn't I die?
I open my eyes with more difficulty than usual, feeling my whole body protest with the movement. My eyes sting and practically beg for me to close them, unused to the sudden brightness, but I resist the urge. My eyesight is blurry and I can’t focus on anything, but there is a white ceiling above that I kind of recognize as the hospital.
A yellow blur peeks its head on my vision. This shade of yellow is… strange. Way more vibrant in a sort of way that Inoichi-nii and Kouji-nii aren’t. Inoichi-nii and Kouji-nii are blondes. I am also one, but more strawberry-toned than usual, but still a blonde. This person? Yellow, a mustard-like yellow that seems more golden than blonde.
The golden figure tilts their head and after a few seconds, my eyes focus enough for me to see their face.
Dark blue eyes. Not the same shade as mine, but still beautiful and interesting. The pupil is there— not a Yamanaka, then. The lips are …moving? It takes me an embarrassing amount of time to realize they are talking because of the low volume.
It’s humbling in a way. I was so used to loud noises around me that it feels weird to stretch my ears to understand what was being said. It feels nice, to be able to hear without feeling like I’m being assaulted in all directions.
I blink and suddenly, the golden person– a man, actually– is closer, palm pushing my bangs out of my forehead and touching the weird thing on my skin. It tingles in a good way and a cool sensation spreads to the rest of my muscles, further melting my bones into the comfortable mattress
I breathe out, voice barely above a whisper, humming pleasantly. The man chuckles and gives me a small smile.
“Nice to meet you, Mitsuha-chan. My name is Namikaze Minato. I'm one of Inoichi's friends.”