Naruto Fan Fiction ❯ The Second Birth ❯ Ch. 1: Strange Little Girl ( Chapter 1 )

Author's Notes: This is the prequel to my fanfic "Wasted Years" and will be featuring the character Yanagi. Should you not know who that is, I rather encourage you to check out my other story first. This story will be Itachi-centric and the plot has spoilers through vol. 16/ep. 80. Aside from that, I hope you all enjoy it. I wouldn't have even started this project if it wasn't for all the kind words everyone out there has shared with me. And, of course, much praise for Kishimoto for creating Naruto. Without his inspiration, we wouldn't be able to share this experience together.

The Second Birth

by Mizerable 

Ch.1: Strange Little Girl

* * *

I always knew you would betray me. How fortunate I could never give you my trust from the start.

* * *

Some part of him was still very much a child, in those days. He of course knew better than to share those feelings with anyone else. He hadn't forgotten the resentment of his classmates from his school days, or from his "comrades." He was, after all, the youngest among the Anbu squad of which he was in charge. Even in his own home, he felt so much more a stranger after every absence.

At least his baby brother hadn't changed, being nothing at all like he himself had been at such an age.

There was a hardened young man staring out from his gaze; eyes that he, too, was slowly growing to resent. No longer would they memorize the fluid grace of techniques, but left him in late night cold sweats from the after-images flickering beneath his eyelids. They were no longer memories so much as reoccurrences, leaving cold metal pressed against his palm and hot blood splashing against his skin from battlefields long since abandoned. Some of the older ninja called it a sickness-a disorder, if you will. The mind is a fragile thing, not adeptly equipped to handle all the traumas of war. Some called it being shell-shocked; the Uchiha called it "Tsukiyomi Sharingan."

With time, they explained, he would be able to transfer these images into the minds of his opponents--Mangekyo. He supposed he could at least find a little bit of reprieve by making someone else know of the destruction he caused, of the burden he carried. Somehow his stomach soured a bit at the thought of using such tactics against other shinobi, as the last of his honeymoon period with the art of fighting drained away. His duties rarely called for scruples anyway.

He was far away from home today, as he was many days. It was colder in this place than his village and it aggravated the hand he'd broken some time ago. He hadn't told anyone, as admitting to pain was a weakness. He was acutely aware how grievous a mistake weakness was considered within the Clan. Late on the night of that injury, he managed to set it with the emery board his mother had used to keep her nails nice. She hadn't noticed it went missing and noticed even less that his hand was wrapped the next day. Not that she really had the chance. He was gone again before she could question him.

It was times like this, however, that he realized he had done a rather poor job in repairing the damaged bone. It throbbed painfully, but now was not so much the time to contemplate his discomforts. He was in the middle of a war-torn country and the rest of his crew was nowhere to be found. An unexpected ambush had sent them scattering through the forest where the trees were too tall to see the canopy top and too wide for a man's arms to encircle. The forest floor was dusted in discarded pine needles, a light film of snow, and held the slightest hint of old blood within its soil.

An abrupt, sharp gasp sounded off to the side and he approached cautiously, weapon in hand. There he found the body of one of his squad members whose name he could not recall, the fatal wound still bubbling over like a pot of water left on the burner too long. Rustling warned him the attacker was likely nearby and he took advantage of the gigantic tree trunk to hide his form as he peered around. A form was hunched over digging through the dead man's pack. Whoever it was likely was in search of informative scrolls or secrets for who knew what purpose. He prepared his weapon and set his body to strike.

The being sat back on its haunches and something about the figure made him pause in his assault. This was not a well-trained shinobi or deadly spy. It was a little girl now gorging herself on the food she found in the pack. Skinny and pale, her hair matted in muddy, blood soaked clumps. She was only a starving child.

A child that was somehow able to kill an Anbu assassin.

"You must have been rather hungry," he spoke up, "To do such a thing."

He hadn't meant to give away his position so easily but something told him it probably wouldn't have mattered. There was something about this girl that made him think this would be different from his usual encounters.

The girl's shoulders jerked back, her eyes now glaring at him territorial and feral. They were a rich and cold indigo shade, a dusky sort of color. He made note of a chipped and drenched kunai lying by her side, staining the earth crimson. The hands that greedily clung to her meal were soaked and still dripping with her kill as she devoured the meager rations. She was no better than an animal, he silently mused. At least she wasn't eating the person she murdered.

"It's rather unfortunate that I cannot allow you to leave here alive."

Her frame was rigid now, though not so much out of fear as she more closely resembled a coiled snake ready to strike. Not that it really mattered to him, really. How she was able to kill an Anbu soldier was questionable but didn't affect his world at all. Whatever trick she had in mind would not escape his hated eyes.

He lashed out with his sword and readied it to cut through straight to bone. He hadn't anticipated her added weight, no matter how slight, to now balance on top of the extended blade. Perhaps her haggard shape was the trick in and of itself, though he wondered why his eyes weren't showing him the truth. It figures that they would betray him when he actually needed them the most.

He swung the blade upward to shake off her weight and perhaps wound her before she back flipped off the edge to avoid being sliced. It didn't surprise him that she was so quick, considering her tiny build, as she charged forward hoping to catch his unguarded midsection. He, of course, anticipated the move and swiftly brought a hand down from his sword to catch her wrist. She managed to graze his forearm with the needles she had clenched in her small hand, not that he really took note of it. With a sharp twist, he snapped the bone and flipped her over. Her back never hit the ground, though, as she planted her palm firmly against the earth and kicked him fiercely in the jaw.

It really had been unexpected, to tell the truth. He hadn't thought she could have been this strong. It just seemed impossible. He was sure her arm was broken but she didn't seem to even notice the injury. She even managed to crack his mask and he was sure to have a terrific bruise. Although, her wounded arm couldn't support her landing as she fell on the dusty snow hard enough to temporarily stun her. That would be enough.

His sword descended over her prone form before jerking to a halt above her body. White hot spasms fired along his nerves as he registered her kunai had pierced through his knee.

Lateral Collateral

Lateral Meniscus

Posterior Cruciate

Anterior Cruciate

Gone.

He knew all sorts of ways to debilitate a man. This was the first time anyone had ever injured him so severely, though. The little girl ripped the weapon out with a jerk and his leg simply gave out from beneath him. She was already lunging forward with her blade aiming for his throat, obviously not willing to let a good opportunity pass her by. He lashed out and struck her temple with the handle of his sword, hoping to put some distance between them. Her aim was thrown off now and the point of her kunai had managed to jab into his mask before she stumbled backwards from the force of his hit. The fissure expanded along the mask before the whole fell away into pieces.

This was a rare moment. His enemy rarely ever was so strong that they had enough time to even see his face. It certainly hadn't happened since he was promoted to the Anbu. But this little girl was able to use such extreme force against him, exposing him. He kept waiting for his eyes to show that she used the transformation technique to disguise her true form. How could a scrappy little girl be defeating him? He was the Uchiha prodigy. What would happen if he came back after failing his mission?

With a shudder, he collected his wits and realized he would have to use his new technique. The girl seemed disoriented from the blow to her head as blood drained down the side of her face. She raised her eyes with anger simmering in them while his Sharingan stared back. His use of Tsukiyomi Sharingan wasn't perfected yet. Jumbled images of the murders and torture he had committed flowed from his mind to her eyes. He had assumed it would stun her long enough to come in for the kill. No little girl, no matter how strong, should have been able to handle what supposedly felt like hours of death.

But she was a tricky child. His sword had cut her lip open but she still managed to avoid most of the anticipated injury. He could feel the frustration swell within now. The mental attack was supposed to do so much more damage than it had, considering how much it affected him, the user. But this girl was more or less okay. How could she handle such an assault? Was she like him? A genius from a respected clan-somehow her pitifully thin figure made him think otherwise.

His damaged knee couldn't support his frame and was threatening to give out again. The girl was flanking his side now, realizing he wouldn't be able to keep up with the movement. His back would be completely exposed to her attack. Ignoring the searing agony he was in, he forced his body to move rather awkwardly and caught her by the hair. He sharply yanked her back and skewered her with his sword. She twitched as the death throes overtook her form, and he felt himself slowly relax. The thought of succeeding sat well with him this time.

He really should have known better.

Despite its sharp edge biting into her calloused palm, the girl somehow managed to use a strength beyond human comprehension to snap the blade in half. He hadn't known any man to have such power, least of all while dying. But she fell off the jagged remains before swinging 'round and managed to bury the broken piece of metal deep between his ribs. His breath was ripped from his body as his punctured lung collapsed around the steel shard. Blood swelled in his mouth and he landed with a thud against the earth before he could get a word out.

His eyes were dark now and tunneling. He could still make out the shape of the little girl laying a mere few feet away from him. So this was what it was like, he thought, death. It really was simple.

"Why?" he choked, "Why are you so strong?"

Somehow her face was still so clear even though everything else was fading. She was a horrible, bloodied mess and looked all so very tired, yet something about her expression seemed content. "I don't wanna die," she murmured, a sleepy and satisfied smile seemed glaring on her stained face. Had he ever felt that way?

Content.

* * *

The Anbu team regrouped and met up with the second squad to sweep through the area. All enemies had been terminated thus far but two members, including a squad captain, were still missing. The smell of blood was strong in the air and it wasn't much of a surprise when the first body was discovered. One of their own had been taken down and that was rather surprising.

Or it would have been, had they not found the mess not too far from the corpse. It hadn't seemed possible but there was the captain lying on a bed of scarlet snow, his skin tinged blue from the cold. Right by his body was that of a terribly injured little girl. It wasn't so uncommon for children to be caught up in these wars, especially skinny little unfortunates like her. Whatever happened here, the enemy must have been terribly powerful.

"Check his eyes," one of the Anbu stated, "The enemy might have tried to take his Sharingan."

One of the shinobi knelt down and rolled the captain onto his back. Tugging the eyelids apart, he found dilated eyes both still secured in the sockets. Suddenly the eye being examined focused on the person hovering above him. Opening his mouth, only red trickled out.

"He's alive!" the soldier announced, "Itachi's still alive!"

The medical-nin began buzzing about him, making note of how severe the injuries were.

"Who did this to you?" another asked, "Did you see who it was?"

Itachi blinked, then glanced over at the little girl across the way while she stared right back at him. He knew she was trying to reach for her kunai while not bringing attention to herself. But he was certain she already knew she wouldn't be able to take on this many Anbu in her present state, no matter how much power lay hidden in her bones.

I don't wanna die.

"Itachi, who attacked you?" the question came again. He could tell his shirt was being ripped open and someone was working on removing that broken piece of sword from his chest, saying something about needing more than a healing jutsu to recovery completely. Surgery? Someone was going over to the girl now. Were they going to ask her? Would they believe her if she even confessed to it? There was no reason not to, he supposed.

What would happen to the girl, if they knew? They would execute her, of course. He had tried the same thing and look at how far that got him. What was going to happen to him, though? He would be returning home from his mission as a failure. He lost in combat for the first time. He was no longer a perfect soldier or a perfect killer. She was staring right at him still, even as someone started asking her questions. They were different questions, though, then what he had been asked. What was her name? What village was she from? Had she ever gone to a school? Was it a ninja academy?

They suspected her. The fact that she wasn't answering them at all wasn't letting them feel any less wary about her. What would she tell them, though? Yes, I killed a man. Why? I was hungry. Why did I wound the other man? I felt threatened. I…

I don't wanna die.

"I didn't see…" Itachi was startled by his own weakened voice, "I didn't see him, Kakashi-san."

The Anbu kneeling by the girl looked in Itachi's direction, seeming suspicious still. Glancing down at the girl once more, he decided not to pursue the matter further. If anyone wasn't going to lie, it was Itachi. He certainly wouldn't defend anyone who put him in such a terrible state. Kakashi knew very well that Itachi followed the code of a shinobi perhaps a little too closely. So this little kid was just in the wrong place at the wrong time, huh?

"Get a medic to look at her," Kakashi ordered.

Itachi could see the surprise in her eyes and perhaps, had he the experience to recognize it, he could have more readily understood the gratitude. He did, however, notice her lips mouthing silent words to him.

"Why did you protect me?"

Why? Did he know why? Perhaps he felt ashamed to admit that he lost for the first time. Or maybe he wanted to avenge himself on his own terms. Maybe he wondered about a little girl that was unaffected by the death and chaos he had imparted on her mind. But truthfully? Truthfully, he had…

I wanted to feel something again.

Somehow he wasn't surprised that all he could register was the pain.