One

The compound was silent. Normally, a flurry of shinobi would be swarming through every minute — some patrolling, others giving reports and many simply loitering around. Yet now the only footsteps I could hear were muted, purposefully quietened.

It was an ominous sign. But I supposed here, in this world, child birth was something far more worrying and concerning, especially when someone was bordering on three weeks late. I couldn't express my worry for two reasons, though, despite the fact that the woman in question was technically my mother.

One: Despite being a perfectly healthy twenty one year old, I was stuck in the body of a nearly two year old, meaning I wasn't meant to quite understand what was going on.

Two: In a sense, I was too disconnected from this mother to care. Even though she was the first person I saw after I went through the horrible sensation of a disastrous drunken car crash with a friend on a rather wild night out and died. Her presence had been comforting, mildly, after vicious pain and then complete darkness. But after that, I had felt so much shock at my situation that I made little attempt to start some sort of relationship.

Although the only relationship a twenty one year old stuck in an infant's body and a mother could have is an embarrassing one, consisting of breast-feeding and a weird medieval-esque version of diapers.

So even as I was forced to remain in my room, my restlessness didn't stem from worry but rather a need to run around the compound like a hooligan, because that was what children could do, even if their father was important.

And I wasn't the only one running around like a hooligan. In my old life, I hadn't had any siblings. It had been me and my parents.

Now, I had three older brothers and from what I could recall, another one on the way. The biggest shock, though, hadn't exactly been the fact that I had three older brothers but rather who exactly those older brothers were. Or at least one of them.

Reincarnation in itself is horrifying and a what the fuck moment by itself. Being reincarnated into a ridiculous television show is a what the actual fuck moment. Especially when somehow, you end up in some weird medieval-esque time period and your older brother is sort of the main antagonist and just a bit of a raging psychopath.

At least from what I could remember. Naruto wasn't one of those shows you watched openly and proudly in your uni years.

But nonetheless, I was born Uchiha Kiyomi, younger sister of Uchiha Madara. Somehow. And even though in the future, my brother is meant to be a raging war driven man, for now he was just an idiotic three year old, confused as to why his mother was ignoring him.

He would regularly hoon around the corridors of the compound, his footsteps somehow surprisingly loud for such a small boy. He would bang on my door, screaming at the top of his lungs for me to come out despite the fact that I could barely walk and most of the time I was accompanied by an uptight Uchiha woman called Saori.

"Kiyo-chan!" he would shout, sliding open the door to my room with a loud bang. Saori would glare, as she was usually in the middle of explaining something mundane to me or reading me a ridiculous story.

Somehow, though, this three-year-old messy haired boy would distract Saori in one way or another, and next minute we were outside, lounging lazily on the roof of the compound and staring at the forest around us.

Madara would then usually instigate some prank or another, simple things such as replacing some of the Uchiha servant's make up with dirt, or stealing things from the kitchen.

It was even better when my other older two brothers were around. I didn't recall them from any memory I had of Naruto, therefore unlike Madara, I hadn't felt any unease or apprehension towards them in the beginning.

Takeshi was the eldest and he was everything Madara was not. Madara's hair curled viciously around his face at all sorts of angles, whereas Takeshi's was dead straight. Madara yelled and stomped his way through the compound, whereas Takeshi walked with the grace of a noble princess.

Despite only being nine, Takeshi was on the front lines of a vicious and ridiculous never-ending war. And even though I was meant to only be nearly two years old, whenever I saw my baby faced 'older brother' return home after nearly two weeks of absence, with bruises littering his body and dried blood clinging to his skin and clothes, I wanted nothing more than to put him into bed and refuse to let him leave.

With Jin, the second eldest, it was different. I felt no need to coddle him because he was so vibrant and energetic that he almost felt untouchable. Though he wasn't on the front lines, I had overheard enough conversation and had a decent grasp on Japanese to gather that he still went out on missions of some sort. Jin, just like Takeshi, would return to the compound after a long week, dried blood and dirt sticking to him. But his smile would be so wide and bright, as if he were completely unaffected.

Of course he wasn't unaffected, though, but in the mind of a twenty one year old who had never seen first hand or experienced a war, I had a daft thought that perhaps someone with a strong mentality could just not care.

Those weeks, however scant, when they were at the compound were some of the best. It was even better before the weeks of silence as my mother in this life, Hana, was still able to happily walk around and look after us. Dinners were loud and energetic, filled with conversation. Though my father would rarely join us, it never mattered. Even when the birth date of my next sibling drew closer and then completely passed, Jin and Takeshi eased Madara's restlessness and my worry for his restlessness, as Hana was moved to another part of the compound to be taken care of by medics.

Jin would usually take us out to one of the many courtyards in the compound, and I would sit to the side and watch Jin guide Madara through some sort of training or another. He would then turn his attention to me, and we would run laps around the field, though it was more hobbling for me.

Takeshi went a different route, preferring more intellectual games. He would teach Madara shogi while guiding me through sets of blocks with hiragana letters inscribed in an attempt to teach me to read. It was also Takeshi who showed me what chakra was, the distinct difference between my old world and this one. I had felt it early on, running through my veins, creating a burning session that often had my going into fits of tears, which Hana struggled to manage.

Though I was sure that in all aspects, Hana was a great mother, I knew that my long silences when I was first born as I spent the first few weeks in complete shock confused her. Followed by the lengthy crying sessions when I first saw Madara and felt my chakra running through my veins, I knew that when my first birthday rolled around, she had little idea on how to deal with me, especially in regards to my vicious crying sessions when it felt my body was on fire due to chakra.

It was odd, because the moment I was born, I didn't feel it. It was like slowing gaining back feeling in a limb after it going numb. Within my first few months, something began to feel different, and by the time I was around six months old, the distinct feeling of having something running through my body was obvious and painful.

By the time I got used to the sensation of chakra, I forgot about Takeshi's leaf display, not making the connection between the two. Takeshi guided me through it just after I turned two, placing a leaf on his forehead that stuck like he had applied glue. I couldn't even focus the chakra to my hand let alone channel it into a leaf, but it gave me a purpose when I lay in my bed late at night, even though I never quite got it.

Today was one of the days when Jin was at the compound, having returned from a mission. His arm was heavily bandaged, and there was exhaustion painted on his face but he still smiled brightly and agreed to take us outside.

The courtyard was empty except for the usual shinobi standing guard by the entrance, stoic and unmoving, their gaze carefully on us. I didn't feel like running amuck today due to the intense summer heat and instead lay on the grass a short distance from Jin and Madara, watching them throw kunai at a small target that hung on a nearby tree.

I had a perfect view of the inside of the compound from my spot in the courtyard. Usually, every minute or so someone would walk past the entrance, whether it be a shinobi, guard or one of the women who helped out around the compound. No one passed, though the guards remained stationed by the entrance. The steely silence that surrounded the compound due to Hana's condition was even more obvious from the outside.

Jin's laughs, Madara's angry comments and the rhythmic thump as the kunai continuously missed the targets were the only sounds.

"The angrier you get, the more you'll miss," Jin sang, his voice and tone easy going as he clapped Madara on the back.

Madara scowled, looking exactly like the petulant brat he was. "You said you were gonna help me!"

"I am. You just get too worked up! Your form and everything is fine, you just need to relax."

"I just need to relax? That's dumb!" Madara snapped.

Jin shook his head. "Anger clouds your vision, you just need to—"

He stopped talking, his gaze on the entrance to the courtyard.

"I just need to what?"

I looked at the entrance, staring at Saori who had joined the two Uchiha guards and was beckoning us over. Behind them, I could see clearly through the open doors into our house in the compound, where various shinobi and women were running through the visible hallway, a startling contrast to just before when not a single person had been walking by.

"Let's go inside now," Jin said, his voice quieter as he took the kunai from Madara's hand and slipped it into a pouch on his leg. "Come on," he urged when Madara continued to stand there, pouting.

Jin gave me a look that said I should come, and I struggled to get up and hobble over to Saori.

"What's going on?" Jin asked Saori, and though his tone was light I could hear the unease in his voice.

"Tajima-sama wants you, Jin-kun, in the healing room," Saori said, her voice quivering. "I'll take Madara-kun and Kiyomi-chan."

"I think they should come with me." Jin sounded oddly serious, his lips puckering as he glanced quickly between us.

Saori shook her head. "Tajima-sama was insistent."

He hesitated for a moment before kneeling down beside us, ruffling our hair. "Go with Saori-san, ok? Listen to what she has to say."

Madara scowled. "What's going on?" he demanded. "We were training, Jin, you promised we would stay out all afternoon!"

Jin shook his head and gave me a look as if to say deal with it before leaving us standing in the courtyard with the two guards and Saori. The lack of conversation enabled me to hear inside — the steely silence was long gone. It sounded like chaos, with the hurrying of footsteps and the shouting.

"Come along now," Saori said to us, her voice still uncertain and her cheeks flushed.

I took Madara's hand before he could say anything else and followed Saori as she led us to my room. When we entered, we both watched her as she frantically searched for toys for us to entertain ourselves with, knocking various things off my closet shelves that caused Madara to scowl even more violently.

"What's going on?" he demanded again. "Where did Jin go?"

Saori turned around, a fake smile on her face as she held up a shogi set. "Takeshi-kun has been teaching you how to play, hasn't he Madara-kun? How about we have a game?"

"I don't want a game, I want to know where Jin is!"

"The healing room. I—I wasn't told anything more than that."

I looked away from Saori, knowing that she wasn't exactly lying. But she knew what was going on. Hana was dying. Or perhaps the child was dying. Either way, I didn't want to know and by the look on Madara's face, he was beginning to figure it out.

"Is mother ok?" he asked as he lost his snappish tone. "The baby. Is—"

"I don't know!" Saori said quickly. "I don't know."

I felt sorry for her in that moment. She couldn't have been older than myself, and she clearly didn't have any kids of her own and wanted nothing to do with two petulant brats in this moment.

Madara sat down, his face sullen and silent as he lay down on his futon and curled up in a ball. I felt Saori's anxious gaze on me, as if she were waiting for me to crumble and do the same thing. Instead of giving any outward reaction, I curled up next to Madara against his back, though he didn't move.

It felt like barely an hour before someone knocked on the door and Saori slid it open, revealing a man who I vaguely recognised from Tajima's council. He whispered something in her ear and I watched her face crumble even more than it already had. She looked back at us, her expression anxious and met my eye.

The man left, the door sliding shut behind him, and Saori turned her face around so as to hide her tears.

Uchiha Izuna was born mid afternoon on a hot summer day. Uchiha Hana died early evening on a hot summer day. For that entire day, the compound was a whirlwind of activity. Madara stayed in my room, lying on my futon while Jin took me out into the nursery to meet Izuna. I wasn't sure if my lack of reaction to Hana's death was normal or not. Jin didn't seem too unnerved by it, because I was not even two years old and normal nearly two year olds wouldn't be able to fully grasp what had just happened.

Jin remained stoic as we walked through the compound, passing various people hurrying around. His hand was tight around mine, the only outward indication that he was upset.

The nursery was one of the rooms that opened up into the courtyard. A young girl, barely fifteen, sat in a chair gently rocking Izuna in her arms. There was only a tuft of hair on his head, and his arms and legs were so chubby. I hadn't seen a baby in awhile, and I couldn't help but stare at Izuna and picture the image I had in mind that I remembered from Naruto.

Jin took Izuna into his arms and lowered him to my view so I could see him properly. His eyes weren't even open, his little face scrunched up delicately. I saw the adoration in Jin's eyes as he cradled him to his chest.

In a way, all I saw was another child for Tajima to turn into a soldier. Another child for him to destroy.

But for now, Izuna remained a blissfully small and ignorant baby, who wouldn't be tainted by this horrifying world just yet.

Uchiha Tajima was only twenty eight years old, clan head with five children and recent single father. I felt no sympathy, only a cold apathy towards him. And it was funny how, for someone who rarely saw me, he seemed to grasp and understand that within moments.

He had held me only moments after Hana had when I had been born into this world. Yet within seconds I was deposited back into my mother's arms, and I had no doubt that he returned to his desk and resumed his work as if nothing had ever happened.

Hana's death was exactly the same. The compound was stoic, in mourning for the lady of the Uchiha clan. I walked past Tajima's office, expecting it to be empty, yet there he was, pouring laboriously over scrolls piled high on his desk. He glanced up when I stood by the door, staring in.

Our eyes met, and I couldn't help but find it ridiculous and strange that this man was closer in age to me than my siblings. I wonder if part of Tajima could see that maturity in me, or if all he saw was another Madara — a petulant hooligan who caused too much trouble around the compound.

Tajima's eyes went back down to the scrolls and he continued to look over them. Various people walked past, carrying flowers and other items in preparation for the funeral. He didn't budge in the whole five minutes that I stood there, as I waited for some kind of reaction.

My grasp on Tajima's personality wasn't due to interactions but rumours and stories. His pre-clan head times, where he was one of the top shinobi of the Uchiha clan. His arranged marriage to my mother that occurred simply because he heard a mere whisper that my grandfather — who I had never met — was thinking of causing rebellion, and Tajima could not be bothered dealing with that.

In my mind, this was the man who single handedly created the Uchiha Madara I knew of.

Perhaps Tajima sensed my sudden increased disdain for him after the death of Hana. It reached a heated climax around the time of the funeral, when Tajima left early, and was not there for when we placed flowers around Hana's head inside her coffin. He was not there for her cremation, either, leaving Jin and Takeshi to deal with the inconsolable Madara. I did the only thing I could at my age and followed him and just like the previous week, I stood at the door and simply stared, conveying as much hatred as I could.

This time, Tajima put down his scroll and stood up from his desk. He walked over to me and showed a sliver of respect by kneeling down to my small level.

"Kiyomi," he said. He had never added an honorific to any of our names. "Is there something you want?"

A good father. The retort was on my tongue but I didn't have the knowledge of words to say it in English. And I didn't even want a good father for me. I wanted a good father for Madara, for Takeshi, for Jin, for Izuna.

I didn't need a good father because I had one. But these four idiotic boys in a violent world of chaos did.

Instead of replying, I walked away from him. Maybe it was coincidence, but the following day I was informed that I would be receiving a tutor of sorts. Not the type my brothers had. My tutor came in the form of an elderly, overly polite woman called Mei, who wore such flamboyant kimonos and walked so straight that it hurt to look at her.

When Tajima introduced me, I felt it was a punishment.

"Someone needs to take care of your education," Tajima explained to me, while Mei stood there beside him, smiling in a nauseatingly fake way. "Your brothers have different sort of tutors. However, Mei-san is the best at what she does and I have every confidence that you will learn lots under her tutelage."

"It's lovely to meet you, Kiyomi-chan," Mei said, dropping to my level, her smile still overwhelmingly huge. "Although I must say, we do need to do something about your hair."

Above her, Tajima smiled, and perhaps I was being petty, but it seemed like a vindictive smile.

And just like that, my life settled into a horrifying routine. My first year and a half had been filled with freedom, even when Saori was monitoring my every move. Madara was always around, and he had always dragged me along into every thing he did. Now we were separated. Madara went to the courtyard to throw kunai, and I sat on the ground learning how to write prettily, because there was a difference.

Izuna became my constant. Saori's new job was to look after him, and as our rooms were right next to each other, I would often peer in. Mei encouraged my interactions with Izuna. She seemed to want to draw out some maternal instinct in me, and I did have a maternal instinct but not in the way she expected.

I wanted to steal Izuna away so that he would never have to deal with the shinobi life.

Izuna's first word was Kiyo. We were sitting on the floor of his room, Saori watching us absently as she sewed a kimono. He was around eight months and had so far managed little words, only sounds that could be words. Hiragana blocks were scattered around us, and I was lining them up neatly for him when he pushed them all over and laughed.

"No," I told him, beginning to rearrange them again only for him to ruin it.

He giggled, beaming up at me. "Kiyo!" he said.

I heard Satsuki pause in her sewing behind me. "What didya say?" I asked, peering closer to him.

"Kiyo!" he repeated, still giggling.

Saori gasped as she stood up, the kimono she had been sewing rustling as it hit the ground, abandoned.

"Kiyo, Kiyo, Kiyo, Kiyo!" Izuna continued to say, his excitement rising as Saori began cooing at him, cuddling him into her arms and pressing a tight kiss to his forehead.

I had never received that treatment and I was fairly certain I had said far more before the age of eight months. But I was an adult in an infant body.

For the first time, Saori turned to me and smiled. "You should go get Tajima-sama and tell him the good news, Kiyomi-chan."

In my opinion, there was no good news to tell. Babies were meant to say Mama or Papa first. I couldn't remember what my first word in this world had been, if I had purposefully made it something like that to appease Hana and not draw attention to myself.

I played the sullen and stupid two year old as I simply stared at the blocks. Saori sighed in a deliberate manner, scooping Izuna up and leaving me alone with the messily arranged pile of blocks.

Before Saori could return and give me a grand lecture on my behaviour, Mei dragged me out for a writing lesson. And as the weeks dragged out, it was common to hear Izuna's small patter of footsteps and his loud shouts of 'Kiyo!' fill the hallway. It wasn't long before he was shouting Madara's name, too, but it sounded more like Madada due to his incapability to pronounce words.

Watching Izuna grow began to fill me with jealousy. For his first birthday, he received wooden kunai. For my third birthday, I received kimonos and jewellery. Izuna had not only Saori but another teenage boy who came and seemed to help him with hand eye coordination, despite his young age. It made my days feel long and even more pointless, as I sewed patterns into materials, leaving my fingers sore and pricked, and rolled out rice balls that never were quite the right shape.

I was failing at everything Mei taught me. The only thing I succeeded in was reading and writing, which I picked up with ease due to my mental age. But my handwriting was never quite the way Mei liked it. Perhaps it was because I was so used to writing in English, but my hiragana and katakana were often loopy and sloppy, and when I began to learn kanji, it was even worse.

Takeshi pulled me aside more often than not, as if he sensed my restlessness at not achieving anything and my jealousy for Izuna's days.

One particular morning in the beginning of autumn, we were outside, leaves spread out all around us as Takeshi once again showed me how he summoned channelled chakra into the leaf and placed it on his forehead. I felt a newfound determination at this task that I had found so difficult the past three years. Izuna would probably be taught this soon, and would be expected to achieve it.

I was — or should be — better in him in all ways, due to my mentality.

Despite the heat, Takeshi and I spent the entire day outside, sweating away, only going inside for meal times as I attempted to stick the leaf onto my forehead. The sun was beginning to set when I felt the familiar flow of chakra reach my forehead, and though the flow was unstable, I picked up the leaf and placed it carefully there.

It stuck for a small second before fluttering to the ground, but it was enough.

"You did it!" Takeshi said, grinning as he took my hand in his hand. "Well done, Kiyo-chan."

I beamed at him, unable to hold in my smile, and threw my arms around him.

"Try again," he suggested, handing me another leaf. "Usually the first time is the hardest. You should be able to do it more easily now."

Once again, I placed the leaf on top of my forehead and focused my chakra into it, watching it stick for three seconds before fluttering to the ground. But the constant use of my chakra through the afternoon left me with a throbbing headache, and when the leaf hit the ground I winced as a wave of dizziness came over me.

Takeshi smiled gently at me. "We should head inside. Remember this feeling. Chakra exhaustion is highly dangerous, especially when you're on a mission."

I stared at him in confusion, wondering why he would even bother advising me such a thing. Thanks to my gender, I wouldn't ever be on a mission. Takeshi only smiled at my expression, ruffling my hair gently before he scooped me up, despite me being too big for it, and carried me inside.

When I saw Izuna for our usual after dinner play, I couldn't help but feel vindictive as I watched him fail at the hiragana blocks. He seemed to sense my mood, for he wasn't laughing as he usually did. A frown was on his face as he kept trying, glancing at me to check if he was right. I shook my head, and he would scowl.

Saori watched, and I felt her scrutinising look on both of us as our usual happy play session quickly turned disastrous, Izuna bursting into tears when he mixed up the me hiragana letter with the nu.

"You should be more considerate, Kiyomi-chan," she said, her tone scolding as she held Izuna in her arms, rubbing his back as he babbled nonsense into her shoulder.

I said nothing, because all I had done was shake my head when he got something wrong. But he had undoubtedly sensed my mood.

Tajima called me into his office before bed, a rare occasion, as it usually only happened whenever I ran away from Mei and hid in a random courtyard somewhere. His office, in my eyes, was a daunting place. He always looked at ease and comfortable there, in his element. It didn't matter if he was ordering his children to stay with their caretaker, or praising a shinobi for killing someone. There was a reason why Uchiha Tajima was clan head, and you only had to walk into his office to see.

I was too small for the chair that sat opposite his, but I always sat in it anyway, as if trying to prove something to him.

"Kiyomi," Tajima began as he always did, which meant I never knew if what was coming was going to be a lecture or praise. "I have had three people say very different things about you today."

Perhaps it would be a rare moment of lecture and praise.

"Takeshi came to me first and said that you two spent the entire afternoon practising your chakra control, and that you succeeded in the leaf technique." He paused, as if watching for my reaction. "Can you show me?"

I blinked at the strange request, watching him produce a leaf from behind a scroll and place it on my side of the desk. Normally when Tajima asked me to do something, I pretended to ignore him, but his interest in my new founded skill could lead to something more.

Trying to keep my movements casual, I picked up the leaf, feeling it in my palm as I surged chakra into it before placing it on my forehead. I felt it stick and held it there for as long as possible, counting seven seconds in my head before it wavered and I grabbed it from my forehead. When I looked at Tajima, there was no smile on his face, and I couldn't read his eyes to decipher how he felt about what I had just shown.

"I then had Mei-san tell me that you had yet to stitch straight, despite you practising every day since your third birthday. She tells me that you are the most unmotivated and sullen child she has ever had the displeasure of meeting."

I couldn't help the scowl on my face that probably proved her point.

"And finally, Saori-san informed me that she believes you're jealous of Izuna, and are being harsh towards him."

"I'm not," I said at once, the first words I had spoken since stepping into my office.

Tajima raised one eyebrow. "Ever since his first birthday, your progress in lessons has declined. You've been more sullen than usual. And, based on Saori-san's knowledge, you have been cold towards Izuna for awhile now. I believe that all that points to jealousy."

Only Tajima could be so rational towards his three year old daughter.

"I'm not jealous," I said. "I'm angry. Not at him. He gets to do stuff I wanna do."

"So you take it on him?"

Yes. That was probably the correct answer. And by the look on Tajima's face, he knew it too. But I pressed my lips tightly together and said nothing.

"Don't be obstinate. It's ridiculous. Why not say something instead of simply taking it out on Izuna and being horrible to everyone around you?"

"You wouldn't do anything."

"Who says that?"

I narrowed my eyes at him. "You gonna do something, then?"

"Yes, I am," he said, his tone devoid of any emotion. "You're going to apologise to Izuna, and then help him with his reading and writing seeing as you're so proficient in it. And then, you're going to master a straight stitch by the end of the week."

For the first time, I felt something within me surge with anger. My chakra rumbled through my body as if it were beginning to get out, my hands clenching by my sides until it felt as if my knuckles were going to pierce through my skin. But Tajima wasn't even looking at my anymore. His attention was on a scroll on his desk, and the rude dismissal rippled through me.

I walked out of the room, counting one, two, three in my head to try and calm my heart. It hadn't been a lecture but a punishment. Never before had Tajima himself interfered with my life so directly.

Izuna's door was still open in his room, and I saw Saori sitting with Izuna, talking softly to him. She looked up when I paused in the doorway, her expression carefully blank, but I still saw the uncertainty flicker through her eyes as she stared up at me. Izuna looked up too, his gaze uncertain.

Instead of apologising, I walked next door into my room and made sure to slam the door extra loud. I opened my clenched hand, seeing the leaf in tatters on my palm, my anger having destroyed the only semblance of potential I had of becoming a shinobi.

A/N: And...here we are. Jesus it has been awhile and part of me never thought I'd write these characters again even though I really wanted to. If you didn't know this story before, hi and welcome! If you did, welcome back to a (hopefully) better written story. I deleted the old one sometime ago and uploaded the old version on to my profile page, but I've taken down the link because I don't want to spoil any new readers and I also don't want old readers to check back to the old version to see what's gonna happen. Because though this is a rewrite, there will be differences. hopefully better differences! so please don't base the old version on the new one, though of course all the characters and major plot points will be similar.

Rewriting this so far (I've gotten through about 30000 words at the moment) has been really difficult, mostly because I wrote the original so long ago that I've found it incredibly difficult and almost vulnerable to myself to reread the old version. And rewriting it is even more difficult, because I have doubts about my credibility to rewrite it. But I love the characters and I love writing, so here I am.

Please please tell me what you think (if you want)! I would say my writing style has definitely changed so I think Heaven and Hell is looking very different at the moment, but I appreciate any and all feedback! and thank you so much to everyone who PM'ed me or contacted me in any way about the story. It means so much to me, I can't even begin to explain!