October 10th, Year of the Kyuubi

The Kyuubi roared.

And the heavens trembled.

"Uchiha Mikoto, reporting for duty, sir!" A demure voice announced.

Every time the evacuation siren reached its peak frequency, Mikoto felt her heart beat and blood pulse in perfect synchrony. The gravel ground bit into her knuckles, but her knees were well protected by her uniform's bracers. Her jounin uniform. Uchiha Mikoto was determined to prove herself still worthy of such a rank and to defend her precious people.

Yet, there was one man standing in her way.

Uchiha Hideki ignored the kunoichi who kneeled behind him. "Legions Alpha, Lambda, Mu, Omicron, Sigma, and Tau—lure the Kyuubi to checkpoint C." He barked out.

"Understood, sir!" Some 20 Uchiha ninja answered their commander's call of duty.

"Legions Beta, Epsilon, Gamma, Iota, and Nu—flank behind the demon and provide support for checkpoint C."

"Understood, sir!" Another 15 signed their death wish…They would do this—for their families, for their people, for Konoha.

Would any of them survive the Kyuubi's onslaught?

How many would live to see the sunrise?

"Legion Delta—medical support. Follow protocol eight."

"Yes, sir!"

"Legion Omega—with me."

"Fire and blood, our life for the Uchiha, Taicho-sama!"

"The rest of you—standby at checkpoint E."

"The Military Police Force will defend Konoha!"

"Do not engage the monster." Hideki scowled. "I repeat, do not engage the monster. Just bait the bloody thing to checkpoint C, where the ANBU and the Hokage are preparing the seal to recapture the Kyuubi. Bait and retreat, boys and girls. I don't want any martyrs today. Our job is the keep the Kyuubi occupied until Hokage-sama is ready."

"Yes, sir!"

"To your stations!"

The shinobi flickered to their respective destinations. Legion Omega turned towards Hideki, waiting for his signal.

"Uchiha Mikoto, reporting for duty, sir!" Mikoto repeated firmly, keeping her respectful crouch.

Hideki scowled even harder.

"You turned in your headband when you married that hotshot you call your husband." Hideki dismissed. Then, matter-of-factly, "You're a mother, not a jounin anymore."

"I have as much right to fight as you do, Otou-sama!" Mikoto's vehemence overshadowed her demure presentation. "If I remember correctly, you retired the same day you walked me down the aisle. Yet, here you are, leading the Uchiha police again.

"Where is Yakumi-kun? He's Fugaku's second-in-command, not you."

"Dead. Squashed beneath the Kyuubi's paw and now just some blood splatter on the ground, along with the rest of our first response legions—just like you will be if you think foolish determination can counteract the effects of two childbirths and years of inactive duty.

"The clan elders would charge you with neglect if anything happened to the two boys and heard you had left them unprotected." Hideki finally turned to acknowledge his daughter. "Return home, that's an order."

"Papa…" Mikoto pleaded. "Kushina is my best friend. She's in trouble!" Her voice turned hard. "Integrate me into your teams or I'll fight as a solo operative."

That solo operatives had a much higher morbidity and mortality rate than teams needed not be verbalized.

"Mikoto-sama was my team leader back when I was a chuunin." The Omega team leader stated. "It would be an honor to fight alongside her again, Hideki-taicho."

Hideki's scowl twisted itself deeper yet.

A flash of metal.

The kunai flew from Hideki's hand and straight for Mikoto's heart. She grabbed the kunai easily mid-air and threw it back to her father in one fluid motion.

"Hmph." Hideki caught the kunai and returned it to his belt. "You deactivated the explosive seal on it, too."

"Motherhood has not changed the fact that I am my father's daughter, sir." Mikoto smiled.

The lines on Hideki's face softened just the slightest. It seemed like some things would never change: he had never been able to deny his daughter anything.

"We're wasting time." Hideki allowed. "Keep up. Don't expect anyone to save you if you do something stupid."

He turned towards the fiery monster rampaging in the horizon. "With me!"

Hideki flickered away. Mikoto followed suit. Legion Omega trailed after the duo.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

May 15th, 2015

"Next is…" President Fraust did a double-take at his script and snorted. "The Defender of Those Pimped, the Collector of Professionalism Points, the Prince of Zebras, and the Champion of Empathy—"

Cat calls started around each quadrant of Harvard Yard.

"That's my boy!"

"Shan, I love you, no homo!"

"Beatbox for us, Michael!"

It was a dichotic sight to witness, roughly 160 newly graduated medical students, garbed in their pristine Doctor of Medicine robes yet blatantly enjoying fine choices of coffee and, of course, alcohol.

Yes, it was barely midday, and yes, there were family, friends, and professors around. But damn it, they were doctors starting today. Did you not see the MD after their names now?

"Let's hit it up!"

A slow clap started. Louder and faster, and louder yet, the applause escaped into the Yard's open air.

"And finally and possibly the greatest feat of all, Wooer of the Ice Princess—" President Fraust continued with a chuckle.

Collectively, 160 faces turned to grin at a girl sitting in the last row, wedged between the Wechsler giant and the Zachman twins. The girl's cheeks reddened to match the crimson Alpha Omega Alpha honor cord hanging off her shoulders quite well. Gamely, she winked back at her classmates.

"A way better love story than Twilight!" A classmate yelled.

President Fraust finished his introduction. "It is my pleasure to introduce the Class of 2015 Harvard Medical School student government president—Michael Shan."

Applause once again rumbled through the Yard as a handsome figure rose and walked onto the stage. The young man shook hands with President Fraust before taking the podium.

"Thank you, President Fraust, for that gracious and completely unexpected introduction." Michael's cheeky grin belied his apology. "Alice, baby, I swear I didn't know anything about that Ice Princess bit…but I feel pretty damn lucky to have you in my life."

"Save it for the bedroom, lover boy!" Came a shout from the audience.

Another serenaded, "Can you feeeeel the loooooooove tonight?"

Alice—whether from dying with embarrassment or from laughing too hard, likely both—reddened even further.

Back at the podium, Michael became serious. "To be honest, I feel pretty damn lucky to have all 160 of you brilliant punks in my life.

"Because, you coffee addicts—yes, especially those of you hiding Java House cups under your chairs, don't think I can't see you fighting to stay awake during these speeches—you understand me, no, you commiserate with me, when someone asks me how I'm doing, and I reply, 'Michael Shan is a 26 year old male—'"

Laughter met his impersonation of the standard way to present patients in the medical field.

"Who presents with dehydration secondary to bilateral lacrimal hypersecretion."

A pause, then the laughter intensified. A round of clapping ensued.

"Yes," Michael continued seriously. "I did tell my family that I was crying like a little baby. Because of med school."

"Because, Class of 2015, if this applies to you, please nod your head if you remember dissecting each delicate root, trunk, division, cord, and branch of the arm's brachial plexus during anatomy lab."

A wave of black caps bobbed through the crowd.

"Because, my dear friends, we realized together—that first day on the wards—that, oh sure, we'd spent all those late nights cramming and testing during the first two years of med school, but we knew nothing about actually treating a patient.

Grunts of agreement met each of Michael's statements.

"Because you punks were there for me when I was going through a very…sad point in my life."

It was a story that the class knew—they'd been part of it, even if ever so peripherally—but this was the first time that Michael had spoken so freely about it. Because, even though each of these geniuses had trained to defend patients from death's cold grasp, they were even more idiotic than the general population when it came to their own personal happiness.

"I'd like to share a story with you today, one about someone very dear to me who is now gone.

"My only brother, older than me by six years, was terminally ill with Duchenne's muscular dystrophy." Melancholy crept into Michael's voice as he reminisced. "I've forgotten the Kreb's cycle and the face of my first patient, but I remember this night with so much clarity.

"Mom called at 2:18 am.

"She only needed to say three words to me, 'It's your brother.'"

A pause.

"I threw on some clothes and sped to our old house. My brother—he was clearly on his way out. I didn't know what to do except to sit down and hold his hand.

"As he began to slip away, my brother and best friend, who had been wheelchair bound since he was 10 years old, and was then turning 30, said to me the most beautiful and haunting words I will ever hear… 'I'm running so fast.'"

Michael paused again.

"Morbidity and mortality—the eternal enemies of our noble profession." Michael's voice rang across the yard. "Death humbles us. It teaches us how to let go—gently sometimes, or maybe suddenly, unfairly."

Michael went on to weave compassion, the art of medicine, and what greatness the Class of 2015 would achieve together in one beautiful speech.

"Life is full of enough sobering and tragic moments. We must remember to laugh loudly—"

Alice let her boyfriend's words wash over her. The words were poignant and the message high-spirited, but she remembered just how hard his brother's death had hit Michael.

"Because who's afraid of death?" Michael demanded.

Death was a scary enemy, Alice thought. As doctors, they would do their best to beat it back with a heavy stick and to live with its aftermath.

"Thank you." Michael finished. "Now begins the Conferring of Diplomas. Will the medical graduates please stand?"

The wave of students rose.

"President Fraust." The formal tone, the respectful tilt of the head, the decorative language—this was the moment the graduates were all waiting for. Michael continued. "The candidates that stand before you have completed all requirements as prescribed by the Harvard University Board of Reagents and the American Medical Association for the Doctorate of Medicine."

Fraust took to the stage again.

"Upon recommendation of the administrative and teaching faculty of the Harvard Medical School, and by the authority vested in me by the Massachusetts Board of Reagents," The President recited.

Alice shared a grin with Wechsler.

President Fraust finished, "I am honored to confer upon these candidates…the degree Doctor of Medicine…with all the rights, honors, and opportunities attached thereto."

Hot damn, that sounded powerful.

"Will the medical graduates please march to the stage to be hooded and receive their diplomas?"

Already, the graduates whose last names ended with letters early in the alphabet were walking towards the stage. One by one, Michael called out the students' names. A walk across the stage, some small talk with Fraust, a bend of the knees, a hood around the shoulders, a diploma in the hand and there—no matter what happened after today, that person would at least always be a doctor.

Nothing—not even death—could take this accomplishment away from them.

A tap on the shoulder broke Alice's daydreaming. Puzzled, she turned to one of the Zachman twins—Ron, she thought, since this one was just a bit more boyish, whereas Erin was a bit more solemn—with a quizzical look.

"Our turn to walk up on stage and get our $200k diplomas, Ice Princess." Ron grinned.

With a jolt, Alice scrambled to her feet and closed the 10 foot gap that had formed between her and Wechsler. "Oops, my bad, Ron."

"Man, must be nice going into ophthalmology. No worries about student debt at all. You'll be making bank staring at people's eyes, while the rest of us toil away with longer hours and still earn less money."

"Come on, it's graduation day. Think happy thoughts." Alice stuck out her tongue. "Think Fraust really signed the diplomas with gold ink?"

"Hells yeah."

"You're dumb, Ron." The other twin responded, trailing behind them.

"No, you're the dumb twin, Erin. Am I right, Princess?"

Erin frowned. "And stop calling her 'Ice Princess.' Who the hell really wants to be called that?"

It was a nickname she'd rather do without—actually, she preferred just 'Alice' herself, but…Alice milked her next statement with a cheesy grin. "I don't mind it. As long as I've got my Fire Prince."

Ron and Erin looked at each other. Together, the twins chorused, "You and Michael make me sick."

The three of them burst out laughing.

Alice still had a goofy smile on her face when she stepped onto the graduation stage to shake hands with Michael.

"You holding up ok?" Alice asked, tingling as Michael held onto her hand just a bit longer than proper.

"My cheeks hurt from all this smiling, and I am in dire need of one very long cuddle session with someone here who shall not be named." The laughter lines around Michael's eyes deepened as his tone turned more suggestive.

"Oh, my poor prince." Alice murmured back fondly. "Your tear troughs are especially pronounced today. Nothing turns me on more than teasing you until you can't hold yourself back anymore, but maybe I really shouldn't had last night…?"

"Fuck that." Michael used their handshake to pull Alice just a bit closer. "Besides, I don't have a last minute commencement speech to prepare tonight."

"Yeah, but both our parents are here." Alice pouted.

"…Fuck."

"I wish." Alice agreed.

"…" Michael grinned.

"What are you plotting?" Warning signals rang in Alice's mind.

"We haven't tried a gag yet."

Alice reddened. "I…um. You. Oh my god."

"Relax." Michael wasn't flustered at all. "As much as I'd love to, can you imagine the looks on our parents faces if they did accidentally walked in?"

"Please. No." Alice bemoaned, while Michael laughed. "Okay, rule number four, no sexy times when the parents visit."

"At least until you control your gasps and moans." Michael wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.

"They're not that loud! And it's not like I can help it!"

"Which makes them all the sweeter."

Alice narrowed her eyes at Michael. "This is turning you on, isn't it? Saying naughty things while the stage's microphone is just two feet away. What if the audience hears us?"

"I will exercise my right to remain silent." Michael then sighed. "Well, off you go. The Zachman twins are giving me dirty looks for not sending you off to President Fraust already. I swear they have some special twin power to know my dirtiest thoughts."

Alice snorted. "Right. I'll find you during the reception, okay?"

"I will hunt you down, rip those robes off of your sexy body, and then—"

"Michael…" Alice half-heartedly punched him on the arm. "Our job is to save people, not traumatize them."

"No worries, voyeurism isn't my thing." Michael squeezed her hands one last time and then let go. "But off you go, ma'am."

Alice took a step towards President Fraust.

"Actually, wait." Michael gently pulled back on Alice's arm and tugged her into a hug. His lips brushed the top of her forehead. An inhale and then exhale. "Thank you." He murmured. For being with me.

Alice nodded.

She turned to step towards President Fraust and the line of Harvard Medical School Deans stationed further on the stage.

Ten more steps, and she would have her medical degree diploma in hand. She had never tripped on stage before and wasn't about to now.

Five more. This occasion called for skipping. Or a cartwheel. She loved cartwheels. She'd taken gymnastics as a kid.

Alice stopped in front of Fraust, returned his smile, spun to face the audience, and then kneeled. Fraust positioned the doctorate hood of medicine around her neck.

She was a doctor.

Finally.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

October 10th, Kyuubi's Attack

"Legion Sigma, abandon your position!"

"No! We can do this!"

"Vulture-san!" Hideki dodged one of the Kyuubi's tails. "Where are Hokage-sama and the rest of the ANBU?"

"There's a masked intruder in Konoha!" Vulture-san shouted back behind his ANBU mask. "I promise, they will take care of the intruder and be here soon! We just have to hold out a little longer!"

"The jutsu won't hold much longer!" "Get out of the way!" The desperate cries was barely audible in the chaos.

"Taicho!" "Otou-sama!" "Taicho-sama, the monster is heading straight for you!"

A quick substitution jutsu.

"Aaah!" The Omega team leader gasped out in pain. The kyuubi's claws had raked a nasty gash on the ninja's left arm.

Guilty relief flooded through Mikoto. Her father was still alive. Her kohai would probably never function as an active member of the Uchiha police force because of his injured arm, but her father was still alive.

Hideki offered a grim nod for his daughter.

It had been close.

Then, another fiery paw came down from above and crushed Hideki.

Mikoto cried out in dismay. No!

"Retreat!" The Alpha team leader shouted out. "All teams retreat! I repeat, all teams regroup at checkpoint F!"

Mikoto screamed in rage. She flew towards the Kyuubi, ignoring its oppressive miasma. She would kill it. She would make it pay!

Another paw came down from above. A shield appeared around her, deflecting the brunt of the paw's force. It still made Mikoto fly through the air.

The Alpha team leader caught her before she crashed into a building wall.

"Mikoto-sama!" Alpha shouted. "We have to return you to the Clans ground. It's too dangerous here!"

"My father—!" Mikoto snarled.

"Hideki-taicho gave orders to take you to the Heirs if it got too dangerous!"

"The beast is gathering chakra into a ball!"

"Barriers! All Uchiha Legions—create a barrier around the monster! We can't let the beast's chakra ball destroy Konoha!"

"The Hokage is here!" "Namikaze!" Shouts arose from the chaos. Mikoto could make out, in the distance, blond hair that shone even through the Kyuubi's wave of death and destruction.

"Please, Mikoto-sama! It's too dangerous for you!"

A toad as great as the mountains fell from the sky and onto the Kyuubi. Gamabunta, chief toad of Mount Myoboku, croaked out, "Not even I can hold the beast down for very long, boy. Hurry."

"Minato!" Mikoto screamed her grief. "What took you so long?! A quarter of the Uchiha are dead. My father is dead! Kushina! Where is Kushina?! Oh gods…"

Minato simply smiled sadly.

A whisper came through all of the chaos. "Take care of my son, Mikoto.

"Flying Thunder God: Space Time Barrier." Minato, Gamabunta, and the Kyuubi all disappeared.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

May 15th, 2015

A high-pitched scream erupted from the crowd.

"What the hell? The kid has a gun!" Another voice warned.

Alice scrambled back to her feet and met President Fraust's puzzled gaze before they both turned to locate what was causing the commotion.

A young man, probably younger than Alice by a few years, was sprinting down the Yard, only 20 or so feet away from the stage.

A pistol. He clenched a pistol in his hands.

"Everyone, please remain calm and make no sudden movements." Michael had stepped up to the podium again and was speaking into the microphone. His voice carried authority throughout the Yard. "Young man, please, you as well, calm down."

"Fuck you, you piece of cunt!" The gunholder shrieked.

The gunholder stood at the edge of the stage, about to climb up from the ground but then seemingly thinking better of it. Alice could see the sweat soaking through the young man's shirt.

Diaphoresis, her mind raced, forming a differential diagnosis out of habit. Physical exertion, hyperthyroidism, systemic infection. Acute myocardial infarction, chronic heart failure. Recreational drugs.

Strong emotions, including rage.

Or alarm, like hers.

What was going on? Adrenaline rushed through her system.

A prank?

Or was this real?

The young man turned toward President Fraust. "That's the kind of applicant you'll accept when you rejected me from your college?"

A numb sensation trickled its way from Alice's throat and dropped into her belly. It was cold dread, and "just no, no, no" all mixed in one.

This wasn't a prank…

"My entire life, I've dreamed of going to Harvard for college and then to Harvard Medical School, but a piece of shit with that shitty sob story is the class representative?!" The boy waved his gun haphazardly.

"Young man, set down that weapon, and we can discuss this privately." President Fraust was ever the diplomat.

"No!" The gunholder pointed his weapon at President Fraust.

Several of the Deans started to come forward, but then the young man cocked his weapon.

"No! All of you old money-laundering geezers back off! Take three steps back with your hands up in the air, or I swear I will blow all of your brains out!"

President Fraust nodded and motioned with his hands. Alice, however, didn't dare move—not with her standing so close to the gunholder and President Fraust.

She glanced at Michael. He shook his head, his tear troughs made ever more pronounced with his worry. Don't do anything stupid; just let Fraust handle everything. The police will be here soon.

Alice frowned. This was ridiculous.

She shook her head when Michael made to step towards her and President Fraust. Trust me. She would handle this.

Alice forced the words past the numbness in her throat. "Hey there."

The gunholder snapped his gun at Alice. "What?! What do you want?!"

Fraust laid a cautionary hand on her shoulder. She just shrugged the hand off and smiled. This was just another patient on the psych ward, no worries.

"My name's Alice." A friendly smile, an open stance. "What's yours?"

Attractiveness was a card that Alice rarely consciously used, but, well, right now, she needed something that had never failed her before.

"James." The gunholder replied warily.

Alice nodded her acknowledgement that a James existed, that such a person was worthwhile of her time. "Tell me your story, James. What happened?"

"My story…?" James drew out.

"Yeah, your story. What brought you here today?"

"My story?" James seemed to gather all of his pent-up anger. His words rushed out. "I'll tell you why I'm here. Well, I'm here to receive my due retribution! I've figured this bunch of old geezers out!" He gestured once again at Fraust and the College Deans on the stage.

His rant continued. "These bastards protect their precious Harvard education and prevent honest people like me from getting in! Not even the chance to get my foot in the door!

"They just string me along, not telling me no, not telling me if I'm on the waitlist. They just string me along until the very end, and just tell me, 'James, my boy, thank you for your interest in sucking the Harvard dick, but you're not even good enough for our precious undergraduate program.'"

A high school senior then, the new recipient of a Harvard College rejection letter. His crazy had probably come through in his application—that's why he was rejected, Alice frowned. He needed help—most likely just someone that would listen to him, but possibly medication.

She had better wrap this up before the police arrived. Who knew what this James kid would do once he heard the sirens.

"If you're interested, I would love to read your application." Alice summoned her most winsome grin.

"Oh…" James lowered his gun. His voice was quiet and almost meek, with his head likewise tilted towards the ground. "Ok."

Wechsler, Alice's classmate who had finished shaking the Deans' hands and walked off the stage by the time this James commotion had started, was sneaking up behind the kid. This high schooler, James, would be no match for Wechsler's giant frame. Hope bloomed in Alice's chest. Wechsler would tackle the kid, and no one would get hurt.

"You're really nice." James whispered into the ground. "And beautiful. I think…I think you're the most beautiful person I've ever seen."

Creepy.

In the corner of her eye, she saw Michael twitch.

Then, she frowned.

Why was Michael walking over her? She had things under control!

Wechsler was 15 feet away from James.

"Do you have a boyfriend?" James looked up.

Alice reflexively glanced towards Michael's approaching form.

It was the wrong thing to do.

"Fuck you, you whore, it's that piece of shit walking to you, isn't it?" James' rage returned with even greater fervor. "The fucking student representative, my ass. What? Did he woo you with that lame story about his brother? You want a real sob story?"

Wechsler had 10 more feet.

"Well, since I'm so gracious, I'll give you one right now."

Five more feet.

"That fucker up on the stage with you? Your boyfriend?"

Three more feet. Muscles bulged as Wechsler prepared to tackle the gunholder.

"Well, you better tell him goodbye right now."

What?

"Alice, just get down!" Michael jumped to shield Alice from any harm.

No. No!

James aimed his gun. Wechsler tackled James. A gun fired.

Oh.

The bullet had missed its intended target.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~`

Somewhere, sometime

It hurt, and it ached all in one.

A wetness trickled down Alice's face, turning her vision red and blurry. Yet the stabbing pain in at her forehead—

Worst headache of my life, dingdingding! That's the buzz phrase for subarachnoid hemorrhage. Next step in management is…!

—the pain paled in comparison to the vast heaviness that creeped up from her fingers and toes and threatened to suffocate her. Each breath Alice took was raspier than the last. The pressure on her chest squeezed in delight.

It was dark, and it was heavy. Nothingness danced in place, writhing to some unknown music.

Was she dead? Was she to be sorted into heaven or hell? Or maybe the Buddhists were right, maybe she would be reincarnated. Or that one short story she had read during high school…something about being tortured by a demon until the soul understood the irony and victim became torturer for the next soul to come along.

Alice shook her head in defiance.

She had just become a doctor. What right did some high school punk have to end her life? Michael had just proposed. It wasn't fair.

It wasn't fair.

No! She screamed. A kick and one punch. Alice struggled with all her might. The nothingness simply swirled around her movements, lazy and mockingly. The harder Alice thrashed about, the heavier the nothingness became.

A sudden wave of dizziness rushed over her, and she toppled over, just barely managing to brace herself with her hands and avoid a faceplant. Cold sweat broke over her brow. Little beads dripped into her eyes, their saltiness stinging, and down her cheeks. Shaking. Her hands were shaking. A second later, her arms gave out as well.

She laid there in an undignified heap, unable to move her extremities no matter how hard she tried, as the seconds tick by, with only the darkness for company. What had caused her paralysis? What if she developed respiratory paralysis, her diaphragm losing its function as a muscle and causing her to slowly die from oxygen starvation?

Or what if she didn't? What if everything in her body, except those allowing her to actually move, worked and she was to be stuck in her body, surrounded by nothingness for hours? For days? Until her brain finally used up every little bit of glucose her body had to offer?

Fuck that shit.

"I graduated from college in two years, summa cum laude." The words never actually made it past her numb lips, but they sounded calm and certain in Alice's mind. "I graduated from Harvard Medical School with AOA honors.

"Death, purgatory, or even my very own post-trauma hallucination—I will figure out how to continue on from here!"

The darkness then collapsed in on Alice.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~`

October 15th, Kyuubi Aftermath

"That's the last room in this complex. Bring the bodies out, and we'll continue on." Sato Uchiha ordered.

Sato had grown up, Mikoto mused. That cocky chuunin—the first of his Academy graduating class!—had matured, as expected of the team leader of Legion Omega. It simultaneously impressed and troubled Mikoto how stoic each member of the legendary Legion Omega was: no matter who they pulled out or what shape the body was in, no one lost their composure. Not even now, as they were on the premises of the Clan grounds and in destroyed Uchiha homes.

Her eyes studied the wound on her kohai's left arm. A medic from Legion Delta had patched it up as best he could, but there would always be some residual damage from an injury this serious.

"A souvenir from the Nine-tails." Sato smirked, noticing Mikoto's gaze. "Fire and blood, I will wear this scar with pride."

"Fire and blood." Mikoto nodded, repeating the Uchiha words. "There certainly has been enough of that today, hasn't there?"

Her father, Kushina, Minato—nevermind how many of her fellow Uchiha ninja had been lost—they were all dead. And Kushina's child, Uzumaki Naruto. The Professor had barred her from taking Naruto home with her because of politics and manipulation and all these things she did not want to think about.

Sato didn't know how to respond.

"Do you hear that?" Mikoto suddenly tilted her head as if to better hear a whisper.

"Hear what?" Sato asked. "I don't hear anything." The other ninja of Legion Omega shrugged.

"There."

Mikoto strode back into the destroyed housing complex and dug at the rubble with her bare hands, flinging chunks of concrete to the side with nary a concern.

"Taicho, she's gone mad with grief. She was arguing with the Third Hokage earlier in the hospital about-" A mutter spread amongst the ninja but ended promptly with Sato's "Quiet!"

There.

Mikoto sat back on her heels, face expressionless.

A baby suckling on her mother's tit. Mikoto reached a hand forward to skim along the other woman's neck. No pulse. The baby's mother was dead yet had, in her last moments, had the sense to position her newborn to minimize injury potential and allow the baby to feed if it wanted.

And what had Mikoto done? She had abandoned her own two children—but they would be safe within the Clan walls!—yet failed to save her precious people anyway.

"Tsk. Add another to the body count, Rikku-san." Sato ordered. "And another orphan to our adoption list. By the gods, how are we going to take care of all these children?"

"This one is mine." Mikoto asserted.

"…Mikoto-sama?" Sato hesitated. "You have a kind heart, but the child will be taken care of, I promise."

"This one is mine." Mikoto repeated, leaning over from her crouch to scoop the baby into her arms. "She's special."

The baby—a girl, Mikoto noted—didn't cry. She was afraid, yes, in what capacity babies were able to be afraid of danger and the unknown—Mikoto could tell by the way the baby sought out Mikoto's warmth and how she shivered—but she was special, even for an Uchiha child.

Red eyes darted between Mikoto's face and all the other Uchiha ninja standing around.

This child had already activated her Sharingan.