Chapter Text
There is something to be said about the effects of reincarnation on one’s view of the world.
She probably wouldn’t go as far as to say she was a psychopath, though she flirted with the line between apathy and psychopathy more often than not. She just grew into a certain indifference that served her well in her chosen career path.
She thinks of this as she sinks into a seiza before a teenaged Nara Shikaku.
There is a level of apathy needed to survive fifteen years as a kunoichi in the beginnings of the Third Great Shinobi War but there is another level entirely required to look at strangers and know what, in another universe and in this universe, lies before them. To know intimately their struggles, and even the root cause of them, and turn a blind eye.
She was in the Academy when Namikaze Minato joined his fellow five- to eight-year-olds in the beginning of their journey into the shinobi arts. She made a choice back then, as significant as the choice she made when she realized the truth of her after-death.
No one can accuse her of not being a Nara.
(Where others might say lazy, Noa knows the sharp edges of a Nara’s intelligence is hidden by an almost religious selectiveness of attention.)
(She just couldn’t bring herself to waste that selectiveness on strangers.)
“Thank you for inviting us into your home, Shikai-sama.” Her father’s back is as straight as she’s ever seen it. His posture is relaxed despite the formalities. “My daughter and I are most gracious for your hospitality.”
“Of course, Takeo-san.” The Nara clan head nods, just a shallow bob of his head. “I’m glad for the opportunity for our children to meet.”
“As am I.”
The Nara head and her father begin talking, just simple pleasantries and other minor topics. They were both accomplished shinobi so there were no obvious signs of their eavesdropping, but she knows they are listening anyway.
This is an omiai, after all.
(She is not the woman Nara Shikaku is looking for, no matter how handsome he may be.)
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Shikaku-sama.” She bows her head, an act of polite deference.
“You as well, Noa-san.” He looks positively bored to the trained eyes, though not so obvious as to be rude. He pauses, takes her in for a moment with sharp eyes, and says, “Do you play Shoji?”
Noa smiles.
Noa knocks on the wooden door in a simple pattern, adjusting the basket of food in her arms. A few soft sounds of movement reach her ears before the door swings open. She adjusts her gaze downwards when who opens the door isn’t immediately obvious.
A four-year-old Kakashi stares up at her, his face mask loose around his neck. He smiles, a rather small thing by all accounts but nonetheless genuine. He turns around and shouts, “Tou-san! Noa-nee-san is here!”
She scroops Kakashi up in her arms and though he puts up a token struggle, he settles quickly.
Noa’s genin team had been Sakumo’s regular babysitters from very early in Kakashi’s life. Not that Noa had been a genin for very long, given the war and the ever-increasing rate of field promotions. And after chunin, she did stop officially taking Sakumo’s babysitting missions, but by that point she had become rather unfortunately attached to little Kakashi and, to some degree, Sakumo.
Which means even if she’s only in-village for a couple days, she makes a habit out of checking in on the father-son duo. Her old genin team doesn’t anymore. Hizashi has been busy on the frontlines and with clan duties and Mebuki is retired, or as retired as any shinobi gets.
Noa makes her way through the small house. There’s a Hatake clan compound, though it is nothing extravagant, but for as long as she’s known them, Kakashi and Sakumo have lived in a small house near the shinobi districts. It's quaint but sparsely decorated. Noa has made efforts over the last few years to gift decorations and furniture during every applicable holiday.
“What’s in the basket, nee-san?” Kakashi asks next to her ear. He’s still got a baby voice, even though she knows he tries to hide it at the Academy with a rather monotone inflection. It reminds Noa of some of her clansmen, both male and female alike.
“Just some fruits I found,” Noa lies. Kakashi gives her a disappointed pout. “And maybe a cute little dog puzzle I picked up at the market.”
The little squint Kakashi gives her is adorable. “How many pieces?”
“It's a thousand pieces, you baby.” Noa’s pretty sure four-year-olds aren’t supposed to be able to solve a thousand piece puzzles, but Kakashi swears up and down anything less is “too easy”. This world’s child logic has always been a bit screwy, her clan case in point, so she doesn’t question it too much.
When she hands the puzzle box to the silver-haired gremlin, he snatches it up with a smile and a “thanks, nee-san!”. Kakashi doesn’t completely run off and disappear, but he does abscond to his relegated “puzzle corner”. It’s a little table and chair set up surrounded by his other puzzles, which have been framed, glued, and hung. It's cute, and she likes to think it's something she instilled in him, rather than a childhood hobby he abandoned.
Hopefully it's the start of healthy coping mechanisms.
“How are you, Sakumo?” Noa slips into one of the dining room chairs, directly across from the silver-haired man. He’s idly polishing a kunai and was rather pointedly ignoring her presence up until she sat down. He looks a little sicker each time she sees him. He hasn’t been that same since, well, the mission, and while Noa liked to hold out hope that she could save him, keep him going long enough for Kakashi to at least graduate, a shinobi’s life is not compatible with foolish optimism.
(Well, most shinobi’s lives.)
“Terrible, if you’ll believe it.” Sakumo keeps his gaze fixed on his hands as he replaces the kunai he was polishing for a standard tanto. “Thanks for the groceries. I think Kakashi is getting sick of cereal and ramen for every meal.”
“It’s nothing. I just picked up some extras when I was shopping.” Lie. Noa packs enough food to last the two a week of balanced food these days, and it warrants its own trip. She expects Sakumo knows this however, and she’s not in the business of rubbing his shortcomings in his face. “I’m heading out to the front for a bit. They say it's only supposed to be a couple months this time, but who knows.”
“Sorry,” Sakumo apologizes, tellingly not clarifying for what.
“It’s not your fault,” Noa says in a deceptively casual manner. She knows it's weighing on him, but she’s not going to get anywhere by confronting him head-on. “A war’s been brewing for a long time and we all knew it.”
Sakumo hums in a vague tone, but Noa counts it as a success.
She’s working the med tents on the border of Fire. Noa has experience with basic first aid and anyone can clean a bedpan, so she spends most of her day performing triage, changing bandages, and soothing colicky shinobi.
Nara Shikaku, Yamanaka Inoichi, and Akimichi Chouza find their way into the tent she’s working about two weeks into her deployment. They’ve all got minor cuts and Akimichi has a minor case of dehydration, so she marks them in as low priority. Luckily, the three are just thankful to have a break.
“I didn’t know you worked in medicine, Noa-san.” Shikaku remarks when she’s on break, or the weird battlefield facsimile of a break that consists of being relegated to inventory duty.
“I don’t,” she responds. They’re low on antibiotics and alcohol, so she makes a note to send an order for more with the next shipment. “Diplomacy’s my strength, but it's rather lacking these days.”
Shikaku has the two trailing facial scars she remembers, but noticeably absent is his beard. It leaves him looking more youthful than she remembers. He leans back against the wall of the tent they’re in, his teammates idly chatting at his side. His hair is pulled back, battle-ready even now. “Why not strategy then?”
“It seems they had plenty of smarter shinobi lying around. Though with you in the field, Shikaku-sama, I’m sure they didn’t need many others.”
“Flatterer,” Shikaku accuses lightheartedly. “I see why they put you in politics. You can just call me Shikaku.”
“Then call me Noa.”
“Who’s this?” Yamanaka interrupts. “A cousin?”
“Very distantly. Inoichi, Chouza, this is Nara Noa. Noa, these are my teammates Yamanak Inochi and Akimichi Chouza.” Shikaku waves a lazy hand as he introduces each person.
“Pleasure to meet you, Akimichi-sama, Yamanaka-sama.”
“Just Inochi, please. It’s nice to meet you too, Noa-san,” Inoichi responds brightly. “I didn’t know Shikaku had other friends.”
Shikaku punches his blonde friend’s shoulder and the trio laugh. It eventually devolves into roughhousing which brings down the wrath of the head med-nin. The three get kicked out and Noa gets off break, but she’s in considerably lighter spirits than before.