Shinobi Isekai!

Hug It Out

Her back hit the water with a breathtaking whap! The rushing water pulled her along its current, bouncing her on the riverbed like a basketball. She gasped for air reflexively only to choke on grainy water. Mind fogged by pain and shock, she could do little but go along with the violent flow as her body was rammed against stones many times her size. She flailed, desperately pumping chakra into her hands and feet as she struggled to get up above the water. If she was where she thought she was, then there were rapids downstream. She had to get out of the water before then, or she'd—.

"—chiru! Yachiru! Moh, sweetie, you need to get up. You don't want to miss your papa, right?"

"Yachiru, get under the floorboards and stay there. Don't make a sound. Go, hurry!"

"Yachiru, mommy loves you."

She was alive, that much was obvious.

Her head was pounding and her skin was soaked, but she was alive. The water of the river lapped lazily at her back, her legs fully submerged and her face buried in the mud. Her eyes were closed and she had no intention of opening them.

Who the hell was Yachiru?

Was...was she Yachiru? Was this body Yachiru's?

Had she really hit her head all those years ago? If she hadn't, would she have woken up with all of Yachiru's memories, too? Would she have any of her own? Injury induced amnesia usually resolved itself pretty soon after occurring, right? That's what Grey's Anatomy told her. Had...had Yachiru not died? Was she still alive, somewhere, inside her mind? Had Bethany usurped her like a split personality in a horror movie?

No, no that couldn't be it. She wasn't Yachiru. She wasn't! She was—.

"Hanako."

Her eyes flew open. With a groan, she pulled deadened limbs underneath herself and painstakingly lifted her head from the mud. There, standing on the bank, was Gaara. The sunlight trickling through the break in the trees set his hair aflame like a bloody halo, hurting Hanako's sensitive eyes with its brilliance. Her breath caught in her throat as she looked up at him. She scrambled to her feet, muscles screaming in protest as she climbed the steep embankment. He stood still, watching stoically as she rushed him, wrapping her arms around his torso and burying her muddy face in his narrow chest.

She cried.

It was an ugly, snot running cry, the kind she normally had while locked in her soundproofed room. Orochimaru's borrowed face hung in her mind's eye, obscene tongue raking against her brain. Her hands twisted in Gaara's black bodysuit, shaking with the force of their grip. This was the price for separating her mind from the situation. All the fear and adrenaline hit her at once.

Chakra, tentative and thin, wrapped itself around her, covering her terror with a layer of confused sympathy. A slender hand placed itself on her back with the same hesitation.

Oh, Gaara.

She loosened her grip on him, taking the time to set a smile on her face before pulling away.

"I'm sorry," she said, wiping at her eyes with muddy sleeves. "I—." Her words froze on her tongue as she looked up into his face. His pale green eyes boiled with so much anger that she marveled at his ability to keep it from his chakra. Damn, she'd really stepped in it. "I'm so sorry, Gaara. I shouldn't have—."

"Who did this?"

"Eh?"

He raised one pale hand and pressed his fingers against her temple. She winced and his fingers came away bloody. Oh no. Damn it, she knew how he was with blood. What was she thinking?