Hayakawa Tsuzuri begins her first day at the academy with an interesting start.

It rained that morning, she had been glad about it. Tsuzuri had been so excited the night before that she had barely gotten any sleep, and by now, she knew the routine enough that as long as she walked enough in the fresh air, the fatigue would dissipate enough that she wouldn't fall asleep in class.

Oh god. Being excited was having the exact opposite effect than it should have been having. She'd been walking, slowly trying to wake herself up when abruptly, a screaming Uchiha boy barrelled pass her and down the street while screaming. She'd been scared curious and followed after the boy, only to realize that it had been the official registration date for the genin entering next year.

Sighing at the letdown, Tsuzuri resumed walking to where she'd been instructed by her parents to be at by... Seven.

Ah, crap. Tsuzuri turned back around for the route towards the entrance ceremony before changing her mind and walked in the direction of the village market.

By the time she was there, the entrance ceremony was halfway through and to her surprise and her dismay, Hayakawa Yunano had joined Nozumi and her husband Jun alongside the rest of the parents, a vague but threatening smile pulling at her wrinkle lips. Tsuzuri gave her grandmother her best regal smile and offered some of her taiyaki as compensation. Yunano continued being mad but took off a big chunk of the head— The part she knew very well her granddaughter liked the best.

Passive-aggressiveness seemed to run in the family, just earlier that week, one of the other clan kids had stormed in and took some of Tsuzuri's mochi. The girl apologized later, but Tsuzuri made sure to eat out all of the flavours except for black-sesame ones. The girl obviously didn't eat any as a hatred for black-sesame passed down through the generations (and to Tsuzuri herself) made then steer clear of everything made with it as an ingredient. Including sesame oil, and didn't that give everyone headache.

After giving her a slap on the wrist, her mother pulls her close before Yunano proceeds to give her a strict lecture about not graduating early.

"Don't graduate before you're ten, dear." Kamii, she even says 'dear' like an insult. "No matter how tempting it is," Yunano warns. "Cherish this time of your childhood, this time you can be a child."

It sounds suspiciously like a warning, an omen almost, and Tsuzuri isn't stupid enough to take it as anything but. Her grandmother is a deep and serious believer of the philosophy that shinobi, Konoha shinobi are protectors before they are killers.

Yunano gives her one last stern look before melting away into the air, a few leaves fluttering to the ground as a remnant of the woman that had been here a few moments ago.

Her mother places a hand on her shoulder, mauve eyes curved into a pretty smile and garnet hair glittering in the sunlight in a way that it almost looks brown. "She loves you, honey." Nozumi tugs her in for a hug again. "She wants the best for you, Tsuyu-chan."

Jun ruffles her hair before she goes in and gives her a quick kiss on the head. "Know 'em dead, squirt."

The introduction passed fine. The next difficult task was finding a group of people she could migrate with before cliques formed. Which meant she had to choose where she sat carefully.

The Uchiha kids— Aina and... Heiji? No way, the Uchiha's weren't known to express their welcome to any outsiders. A few non-affiliated shinobi kids and some civilians scattered throughout the premise of their classroom, Tsuzuri wandered around for a couple more seconds before she finally decided to settle in the middle of a trove of Yamanaka and Nara kids.

Shortly after she had sat down, their teacher sauntered in and introduced herself as a 'Jomei-sensei', she had a lacklustre gaze and an even blanker expression when she said it. Tsuzuri suspected it was either because she wasn't fond of Jomei as a name or it was because she had more experience with vocal manipulations than she did with facial.

So, a genjutsu expert, then, Tsuzuri surmised.

+

Joumei-sensei wasn't a great teacher, but she wasn't necessarily a bad one either. She was observant, Tsuzuri would give her that. Whenever Joumei caught her moving onto more advanced materials in their textbook, she'd always give her a worksheet modified to whatever Tsuzuri had been interested the day before.

It took a couple of weeks before she realized that of course, but by then it had been a bit late to gauge Joumei's reaction to her supposed intelligence. And of course, since Tsuzuri was self-respecting and a fan of living, even at the tender age of eight. Remembering her grandmother's omen, she began failing or skipping at the modified questions and resorted to doodling in her textbook when she began getting bored.

Eventually, Joumei stopped giving her those modified worksheets. But Joumei's gaze never shifted, and when she realized that Tsuzuri had taken an interest in art... Well, Tsuzuri actually never got to find out but because the next time she was in the classroom, their teacher had been replaced by a middle-aged Hyuuga named Kadan.

To Tsuzuri's dismay, Kadan seemed to have caught whatever disease that Joumei had while she was alive and began to give her handouts about sealing long before her classmates began. It extended to seductions, poison, painting and flower arrangement and all sorts of things that she found a bore. But fuinjutsu seemed interesting enough so she stuck with it. Beyond that, however, Taijutsu was a fucking pain in the ass and Genjutsu actually became boring after Jomei died. Kadan was proficient in both, but Tsuzuri doesn't think she was ever awake enough to bother to listen after learning the essentials.

And therefore, since Tsuzuri sucked at everything besides the academics, she was in no danger of graduating early or dying at the hands of Yunano.

For that alone, Tsuzuri was eternally grateful.

+

"TSUZUURRIRRIRIII!"

She woke up on the Saturday before her graduation to a loud feminine voice yelling outside her door.

Dragging herself up, she opens the door to Nara Akari and Yamanaka Hiroyo (wow, those two clans were pretty intimate), two from the trove of seemingly sane children currently outside her door.

"Who died?" she drones, trying valiantly to brush her long red hair. Nozumi warned her that after graduation, she'd have to keep it at chin-length at the very least and therefore Tsuzuri, ever so fond of her hair, insisted on cherishing her very long and very thick hair for the entirety of the very hot summer before her graduation.

"Happy birthday!" the two of them cheer before the girls stormed in and Tsuzuri realizes with horror that they were intending to dress her up.

It wasn't that Tsuzuri had anything against getting dolled up, but what she did mind was getting her hair pulled and coiled into strange shapes and being drowned in perfume and makeup. After roughly half-an-hour, she'd emerged looking like a drowned cat that had been trying on makeup for the first time. Tsuzuri suspects that she might've also eaten some in the process. Sighing, she washes everything off with painstakingly and throws on a simple kimono, much to the dismay of her two friends.

Her birthday was a relatively small affair. The Hayakawa was popular and well-acquainted with most of the Konoha clans and with many beyond, but they were also notorious for being overprotective her their young. And Tsuzuri, being the heir, was subjected to the same overprotectiveness. Other than a few kids and their parents, there were little to no authority figures except for her teacher and some clan heads that came to visit.

Beaming, Akari presented her with a wooden box. Prying the lid off in excitement, Ling finds a pair of pretty bejewelled daggers nestled in purple velvet.

She shrieks. "Oh my god, Akari—" She turns to look at her friend. "Are they?"

"You bet!" Akari shrieks back. "They're customization of Kiko's daggers from Flowers by Midnight."

They squeal again before Hiroyo come forward with a grin and presents her with a hairpin embedded with a jewel the same shade of turquoise-violet as the daggers from Akari.

"You stole my idea," Hiroyo accuses Akari as she gives Tsuzuri her gift.

Akari rolled her eyes. "Please, you weren't the only one who saw Flowers by Midnight. Even a blind person can see how much Tsuzuri looked like Kiko."

"Come on," Tsuzuri says as she slings an arm over their shoulders. "I'll get you stuff from Flowers by Midnight for you birthdays too."

"I want Eina's dress from the sequel—"

"What? I thought Eina was me! You're obviously Tomomi—"

Tsuzuri rolled her eyes and looked at her gifts. Both of them had played off Tsuzuri's fondness for shiny things and so had her parents. Her father handed her some kunai in a gold-laced pouch with the colours of dawn. The kunai are from their family's traditional crafter and when she took one out and looked closely, she realized that small birds were carved onto each of the handles. She beams and hugs him as he kissed her forehead. "Thanks, papa," she says.

He ruffles her hair in response. "One year older, squirt."

Her mother gets her five bottles of kunoichi chip-resistance nail polish in four varying colours of purple and a bottle of clear nail polish. She beams in delight and begs Nozumi to help her apply them. Her mother complies and colours each of her nails a different colour and is only slightly mad when she ruins a tree trunk with the diamond-hard nail polish during the party.

The festivities lasted for an entire day, but it was only after it ends that Yunano finally made her appearance. Her grandmother entered in her customary fluid way and greets Tsuzuri with a solemn, serious expression that whispered a hint of melancholy. "Happy birthday, dear," she congratulated in a soft voice.

"Hello, grandmother," Tsuzuri beams up at her while doing the dishes. Not one of the major shinobi clans seemed to employ servants. Tsuzuri grew up doing chores.

Yunano smiles, dark eyes glittering but face still somewhat sad. She was dressed in a dark coloured kimono that seemed to be suited for funerals. "Finish those quickly, darling. I have something to show you."

Her skin prickled. Despite her excitement, Tsuzuri couldn't help but feel a prick of unease climbing up her spine. True to her word, she finished them as fast as she could and she suspected that she might be scolded by her mother later for the sloppiness. She skipped down the length of the hall to the living room and Yunano rose as soon as she saw her.

"Come." Yunano gestures for her to follow. They step outside and towards the elders' part of the Hayakawa compound. The walk in silent as the travel through two courtyards blooming with bright flowers and over a bridge over a koi pond. The elders' part rises up ahead as a gateway built with fine stone at a magnificent height. They enter and stepped into the official meeting hall as Yunano kept walking until she reached a dead-end hall. "Watch carefully," she instructed. Yunano reaches for the painting hung on the wall with a bony hand, tracing the painted line delicately before. It's only then that Tsuzuri realizes Yunano's taking apart a seal.

"How are you taking it apart?" she asks. "Don't you have to use ink?"

Yunano laughs. "Clever child."

She holds out her hand and Tsuzuri takes it— Before abruptly jerking out of her grip. She knows her grandmother's chakra. It's soft and heavy and drapes over her like a silk blanket. But this is the feel of hot fire and a hint of smoked salmon. "You—"

"This is our kekkai genkai, dear," Yunano says kindly, if not sadly. "You'll learn it soon. But not today," she adds, at the look of excitement that appears on Tsuzuri's face, much to her dismay.

Yunano continues leading her into what seems to be a library. Taking a large box off of one of the shelves, she then takes Tsuzuri to the centre of the room (hoo, lots of walking today).

Opening the box delicately, Tsuzuri witnesses what's likely the most beautiful sword she's ever witnessed in her life.

A katana laid in the box, nestled gently between the soft red velvet. The blade is shiny and well-loved, not a single scratch marred its design— Towers rising out of mist and flutters of sparrows that almost moved flying between the clouds.

"Magnificent, isn't it?" Yunano says as she takes it out of the box, smoothing a loving hand across the smooth metal. "This was a token to given to me, many years ago. When the Second Shinobi War ended," she reminisces softly. "I, amongst four others, each from a great village were given a task. A great one. To keep balance to this fragile peace we have built from blood and ashes."

Yunano places the sword in Tsuzuri's hands. "And now, I will pass this duty onto you, my heir. Will you accept this burden?"

Tsuzuri raises the sword until she is at eye level with the blade. The light glints and she turns the other face of the blade towards her. Tsuzuri realizes that on the other side of the blade, the towers burned amidst the clouds, and the bird were nowhere to be found, except for a few feathers amidst the smoke, hanging without tether.

This could Konoha, Tsuzuri's eyes widen from that realization. Those birds can be her mother, her father, her. Her finger trembles until her skin comes in contact with an odd dent in the metal, she looks down. The writing is small and the words carved lightly, it's clear that her grandmother doesn't know of its existence because Yunano is still watching her with an unwavering violet gaze.

Tsuzuri steels herself and raises her chin as Yunano's gaze becomes proud.

"Of course."

Her grandmother's hand is clasped around her shoulder when she slices open the skin of her palm with the ritual knife. Tsuzuri watches as the smooth red liquid flowed down the edge of her palm and landed in the white stone bowl. The red dyes the bottom of the clear bowl, and as Tsuzuri watches the red spreads, she can't help remember the inscription carved at the bottom of the sword.

You cannot save people, you can only love them.