Chapter 15: FifteenNotes:
Just wanted to clarify something from the last chapter, about the summoning jutsu- the academy book didn't tell Sansa the hand signs for it, Tsukiko did. She just couldn't tell Sansa the shapes/positions of the hand-signs because she doesn't have hands. I assume that in an academy they would have to teach the kids all the different hand signs, which was what Sansa needed the book for.
Enjoy the chapter!
Chapter Text
FIFTEEN
Sansa was thoughtful as she, Tsukiko and Lady returned to Tsukiko's den where Gin, Hata, Katsu and Suki waited. Sayomi had given her much to think about and she could not deny that she was curious.
"Tsukiko," she said, once they had arrived, "who is Sakumo?"
"Ah," Tsukiko mused, "I wondered if you'd ask." The wolf let out a sigh as she settled down, folding her great, large paws and laying her head upon them. "Sakumo," she said, "was my summoner before you."
"May I ask what he was like?" Sansa asked, curious about this predecessor of hers.
"He was from Konoha," Tsukiko told her, sounding wistful. "He was a good man. He understood what pack meant, not like other humans. He had a little pup of his own, such a smart, precocious little thing. I quite adored them both– I used to babysit for Sakumo," she said, and Sansa had to smile, imagining the enormous Tsukiko taking care of a tiny human. "And Sakumo and I, we fought together so well..."
"And then came that mission," Tsukiko sighed, her head dipping. "He was faced with an impossible choice; did he continue onward, which would result in the deaths of his comrades but the possible success of the mission? Or did he save his comrades lives, at the cost of the mission?"
"He chose his comrades," Sansa knew, before Tsukiko even said anything.
"He chose his comrades," Tsukiko confirmed.
"How important was the mission?" Sansa asked, her mouth curved downward.
"It was the tipping point which started a war," the she-wolf answered quietly. "Sakumo was despised within the village, despite the inevitability of war breaking out. He suffered. His pup suffered. And in an effort to restore honour to their family name, so his son would no longer suffer the shame, he committed seppuku. We have not had a summoner since."
"Seppuku... I'm afraid I am unfamiliar with the term," Sansa admitted.
"No... I would be surprised if you had," Tsukiko murmured. "It is barbaric," this was accompanied by a snarl, "Konoha drove him to it, they shamed him, they shamed his bloodline, until he thought the only way to regain the honour of the Hatake name was to drive his own tanto through his belly and bleed out before little Kakashi!"
"He killed himself– wait, did you say Kakashi?" Sansa asked urgently. "My Kakashi?"
"Yours, is he?" Tsukiko teased, settling back down again from where she'd bristled in response to her anger.
"My protector, my pack-mate," Sansa answered simply. "Mine to care about, until he says otherwise."
Lady, a silent observer until now, nudged her wet nose to the skin on the back of Sansa's neck. Lady would always be the only one she would ever bare that vulnerable skin to. "Sansa is best pack-mate," Lady declared and Tsukiko laughed, the sound low and husky.
"So you have said, Kita."
"Because it's true," Lady said firmly and Sansa smiled, turning to kiss Lady's wet nose.
"I love you, sweetling," she said, because she would never get tired of this, of being able to touch Lady, to kiss her, to tell her that she loved her.
"I love my Sansa too," Lady said happily, bending to rub her head against Sansa's chest, almost knocking her over. Tsukiko laughed again at their antics.
"To answer your question, Sansa," she said, reminding Sansa that she had asked her a question– and an important one– "yes, your Kakashi is Sakumo's son."
"Poor Kakashi," Sansa said quietly, her mood dimming. "Watching your father die..." she closed her eyes and exhaled; the thud of Ned Stark's head hitting the ground still had its place in her nightmares, even now.
"And with Sakumo gone, little Kakashi was left with no one in the village to care for him," Tsukiko said quietly.
Sansa's eyes opened in a flash. "Pardon?" she demanded. "Did you say he was left with no one? How old was he?" The Kakashi she'd seen could barely have been more than four and ten– perhaps just old enough to live alone if he earned steady wages.
"He was a few months shy of five," Tsukiko answered.
"He was what?" Sansa asked, aghast. "He was placed in an orphanage then, yes?"
"You would think," Tsukiko said, a growl to her voice. "But he was already an Academy student and he graduated shortly after turning five, which made him legally an adult."
"Legally an– that is ludicrous!" Sansa cried out. "No, it is far worse than that– it is criminal! To do that to a child!" To Sansa's horror, she could feel hot tears sting at her eyes. "Oh, this is so ridiculous," she said wetly, covering her face with her hands. "Why am I crying?"
"Because you might have the mind of a grown woman, little one, but your body is still that of a child," Tsukiko said gently as Lady whined, concerned.
"I just... I know what it's like, when you've just watched your father die and you're alone in the world," Sansa explained, sniffing and wiping away the tears. "I wouldn't wish it on anyone... except a moderately sized list of people who I loathe."
"Moderately sized?" Tsukiko asked, looking amused.
"My sister used to recite a list of all the people she would kill before she went to sleep," Sansa explained. "I tried to do something similar, reciting a list of all my foes that had been defeated– it needn't have been me that defeated them, I wasn't picky. I was fortunate and it grew to be a very long list. Arya heard me recite it one night and started laughing– she made me shorten it down to what she called a moderately sized list of defeated enemies that I absolutely hated, so that every night I could remind myself that they were gone."
"Do you still do that?" Tsukiko asked curiously. Sansa shook her head.
"No," she said, soft and wistful. "No, now before I sleep I list different names– Torrhen, Robb, Raya, Asha, Tormund, Arya, Argella, Brienne, Galladon, Jainne... those are the names etched on my heart, forever."
"Nymeria," Lady whined softly, "Grey Wind, Ghost, Shaggy Dog, Summer."
"Torrhen named his direwolf Ice, after the lost ancestral sword of House Stark." Sansa murmured, "Robb named his Igaluk, after the Free Folk's moon god. Raya named hers Surya, a Dornish word for Sun. And Argella named hers Elenei, after the Stormlander's Storm Queen; daughter of the sea god and goddess of the wind.
"Ice, Igaluk, Surya, Elenei," Lady said softly, and Sansa stroked the closest soft ear. Lady leaned into the touch.
"I wish you could have seen them," she said wistfully. "I wish you could have seen them all. How I loved them... I made them a kingdom so they may never know war. So their children and their children's children may know peace. That was my heart's dearest wish."
"Perhaps that is why the gods brought you here," suggested Tsukiko. "You built peace once, perhaps they wish you to build it once more?"
"Perhaps," Sansa agreed, "but the circumstances are very different. Westeros prayed for peace. This land hungers for war."
"Because it is young and it knows no better," Tsukiko said gently. "What it needs is someone to help it learn."
"I won't say I won't try," Sansa said slowly, "because I will. But I doubt any will listen."
"For you to try is all we can ask," Tsukiko said.
~
To her dismay, Sansa found returning to home just as distasteful an experience as being summoned to the spirit world. She appeared back in Inari-sama's shrine with a soft groan and had to take a few moments to let the sickness settle before she could open her eyes and shift from her position, knelt on the floor of the shrine.
To her chagrin, when she could focus on her surroundings she noticed there were markings on the wood below her where she'd used the summoning jutsu, almost like a seal. Cursing quietly at how she'd defiled the shrine they'd spent so long restoring, she hastily went to fetch the cleaning supplies they'd kept stored in the shrine and spent the next ten minutes scrubbing the floor clean. When she was finally satisfied, she returned the cleaning supplies and made to leave the shrine only to discover, much to her dismay, it was later then she'd thought. Tsukiko had assured her that time ran differently in the spirit realm, but the sun had still already begun its descent and Sansa hastened on her way, wishing to reach the orphanage before darkness fell.
The streets of Konoha were different at dusk. The merchants had packed up their wares and instead the bars and restaurants were packed with raucous shinobi and civilians. Sansa preferred not to be around any adults whose rationality had been affected by drink, not when she was well aware of the danger it put her in, which was why she avoided being out of the orphanage after nightfall. Keeping to the shadows, thankful for once for the ANBU shadow she could feel tailing her, Sansa crept through the quieter side-streets of the village, choosing the longer, more out of the way routes she only knew through her flights as a bird. It took her nearly twice as much time as it should but she managed to avoid running into any drunk Konoha citizens, which she considered a victory.
Kanna was waiting for her inside the orphanage, her face tight with anxiety. "Oh, thank Inari-sama!" She breathed, scooping Sansa up into her arms. "I was so worried 'bout ya, ya li'l idiot!"
"I lost track of the time," Sansa admitted and Kanna huffed.
"Yer an idiot," she said again. "A clever one, yeah, bu' an idiot."
Sansa didn't fight the older girl as she bustled Sansa off to the showers, muttering about how dirty Sansa had managed to get. "An' yer hair! Ya usually keep it so pretty!" Kanna exclaimed, sounding bewildered. Sansa took care to keep the Academy book hidden as she obediently stripped off her dress and small-clothes as instructed, combing her fingers through what was left of her braids. Kanna then gently pushed Sansa under the lukewarm spray of water, muttering under her breath as she tipped a handful of sharply-scented soap on the red tresses and started lathering.
Kanna didn't let her stay in the shower long, pulling her out and bundling her up in a towel. Sansa had moments to snatch up her dress and the prize hidden within it before Kanna was carrying her to their shared room, holding her tighter than usual. Sansa finally realised that Kanna must have been truly frightened for her, as darkness fell and Sansa failed to return.
"I apologise for worrying you," she said softly and Kanna held her tighter, as if afraid that should she let go, Sansa would disappear.
"Don' do it again', yeah?" She mumbled and Sansa leaned back in Kanna's arms, pressing her cheek over Kanna's heart, listening to the steady thump-thump.
"I promise," she said sleepily and Kanna kissed her forehead.
"Love ya, Ko-chan."
"Love you too, oneechan."
~
Sansa had to return Jiro's Academy textbook to him the following morning, but she was by no means about to stop learning about her chakra. She was almost desperately curious about this magic she had inside her, something so different from the life she had before. It was miraculous to her.
Oh, there had been magic in Westeros. With the Three-Eyed Raven in her brother's body she could never doubt such a thing, and Sansa had even performed such magic herself. When Jon had marched South for the Iron Throne with the Dragon Queen and what small number of Northerners had agreed to march with them, she had knelt before the heart-tree and sliced open her palm before pressing her hands together and bowing her head to pray for peace while her blood fed the pale roots of the weirwood and her dress soaked up the melting snow. When she lifted her head, there had only been a faint scar across her palm and a cluster of weirwood leaves had fallen to the ground beside her in a perfect circle; a crown for a Queen.
The magic of this world was very different. This magic relied on no gods; every human and some beasts carried within them the potential to wield such power, some to truly devastating effect. Sansa remembered the night of her rebirth; she remembered how fast her father and the masked man had moved, how her mother had conjured shining chains from nothing, how mighty Kurama had been. She remembered and she knew that if she wanted to survive in this world, she needed to know how to use her chakra. Preferably without having to sign her life over to a village she hated.
Once she'd finished the sewing the matron assigned her for the day, her mind focused on chakra the entire time, she feigned an illness and curled up in the room she shared with Kanna and Naruto, retreating back into the mind-scape she shared with Kurama. After being alive for so long, Kurama must know more about the true intricacies of the very essence of the world than the violence the shinobi used it for, she thought.
"Surely," she exclaimed passionately to the Kitsune, "surely its purpose could not have been to fight and kill! It's so beautiful, I don't understand why shinobi would pervert it and turn it into something so– so ugly."
Kurama was quiet for a long time before sighing. "Yes," they mused. "Yes, it is beautiful, isn't it?" They sighed again. "Well, go on, then. Let's see it."
"Pardon?" she asked, not quite understanding. She had the feeling Kurama was trying not to roll their eyes.
"Your chakra," they said slowly, like she was an idiot– and perhaps she was, she thought with a blush. "Let me see it."
Well, Sansa wasn't about to turn down such an invitation. Beaming, she reached for the ice-cold ocean under her skin, bringing its tides to the surface, waves lapping through her veins, currents twisting through her bones. Something sparked beneath her feet and Sansa glanced down and gasped. Where her feet had sunk into the fluffy snow, the ground beneath her had lit up brilliant blue, the snow around her rapidly melting to reveal–
"A seal," she breathed. Except it wasn't just a seal. Sansa watched breathlessly as the glowing lines curled outwards, gasping in delight at the sight, eagerly following how the elaborate seals fanned out across her mind-scape like delicate lace, curling and twirling as the 'threads' looped and interlaced. "Oh," she breathed, looking around at the complex seals in wonder, "Oh, they're beautiful."
"They're certainly... something," Kurama said disdainfully.
"Did Minato do all this?" she asked, astounded and Kurama snorted.
"Of course not," they said. "This is Mito's work."
"Mito's?" Sansa asked, equal parts thrilled and confused.
"I told you," Kurama said, impatient. "She created this mind-scape, using chakra, blood and seals to tie it to her bloodline. Seals do more than just affect reality, they create reality, and Mito was one of the best sealing mistresses the Elemental Nations has ever and will ever see."
There was a reluctant admiration in Kurama's voice that Sansa carefully didn't call them out on, not when she could so easily read their agitation. Instead, she focused on the seals, admiring how they surrounded her, softly glowing. And then, suddenly, she frowned. There was something very familiar about one of the seals.
"I know that seal," she said, which had Kurama look over at her. "I recognise it from somewhere... where do I know it?" It took her a moment to remember. "The dream," she realised. "The one Inari-sama keeps sending me– Mito wore that seal on her hair-pins"
"Oh?" Kurama asked, interested.
"It's the same one," Sansa said, "I'm sure of it. That can't be a coincidence, can it?"
"I sincerely doubt it," Kurama said, finally looking interested. "You should try channeling your chakra into it."
"That sounds... ill-advised," Sansa said carefully. Activating a mysterious, unknown seal in her mind-scape sounded utterly foolish at best and actively suicidal at worst.
"You're the one who's convinced Inari is sending you those dreams for a reason," Kurama pointed out. "What if this is the reason?"
It was... difficult to argue with that logic. Sansa swallowed nervously.
"Do you... do you really think so?" she asked hesitantly.
"I think I want to be free," Kurama said, fiery eyes meeting hers, "and I can't be free if you die and Konoha seals me inside another Sacrifice."
"Okay," Sansa whispered, before steeling herself. "Okay," she repeated, louder and firmer. Stepping over to the seal, she reached for her chakra again, twisting the ocean currents into eddies that swirled under the skin of her palm. Taking a final deep breath, she knelt down, pressed her palm against Mito's seal, and pushed.
Immediately, Sansa felt the world around her twist; she cried out as the mind-scape rippled, the edges tearing and fraying, shaping into a vortex, a whirlpool, and she staggered, stumbling backwards and into one of the weirwood trees. She fell to the ground and clung to the roots with desperate fingers as the seal glowed a brighter and brighter blue until she had to look away and close her eyes, lest she risk being blinded.
And then, just as suddenly, everything went still and dark.
Breath ragged in her chest, Sansa dared to open her eyes to slits and look back. Then, she gasped. Because standing over the seal, porcelain-fair with her red hair bound in twin buns and a sad look on her face, was Uzumaki Mito.