(I was going to send this to you on ff but it was being weird. So I thought screw it. Let everyone get the unedited sneak peek. I hope all enjoy it.)
Takara is reincarnated. She knows this like she knows why the sky is blue. Not that she can remember who she was or what she did before. It’s kind of frustrating, but it’s not like she can remember herself, so she lets it go. She is three years old when she realizes one of the dumb shows she used to watch before is actually where she’s been reincarnated to. This is because of a little blond boy.
The toy room is where they keep almost all of the toys. She only goes in there because that’s where she can hear the other kids talk and she has to learn the language somehow. So she sits down with a stuffed bear and pretends to play. It’s when one of the older kids start picking on someone her age. The little boy is on the verge of tears and the older boy throw a a toy at him.
“Hey!” She snaps and is marching over to him before she can think better of it, “Leave him alone!”
“Oh? And what if I don’t?” He rips the bear out of her hands and throws it at the blond kid, “What are you going to do about it?”
It pisses her off and she swings.
She punches a five year old in the face and he starts wailing, but he’s not picking on the blonde boy anymore. So Takara grabs his hand and they slowly walk from the room so the care takers don’t notice their escape. He ends up dragging her to the room he shares with his sister.
The moment they walk in the room he starts talking to his sister *in English*.
“Aiko! Aiko!!” He cried to her.
“What Naruto?” She asked him calmly.
“This girl, she - Kaito was picking on me again and she punched him in the face!” He said (more like shouted) excitedly.
Meanwhile Takara is having a mini existential crisis.
‘Naruto,’ she thinks, ‘I’m in the Naruto world?!’
'Wait, who the hell taught him English?’ is followed by the thought, 'Wait, Naruto didn’t have a sister in the anime or the manga.’
She isn’t the only reincarnated person in the world. It’s… something of a relief. She’s not totally alone in the world.
“Thank you for looking out for my otouto.” Is literally all that Aiko says and goes right back to her picture book.
Takara barely takes a breath before Naruto is asking her, “hey do you want to play ninja?” then is dragging her out the door and she is a little bit overwhelmed. She decides she can always talk to the girl later.
It’s literally weeks before she manages to get Aiko alone, and that is because she’s supposed to be looking for Naruto in their game of ninja (she knows where he is; kinda hard to miss his hair in the bushes). The little strawberry blonde looks up at her when she walks in the room and goes back to working on the characters the civilian sensei taught them at school. She has wanted to talk to her for freaking ever and now that she can she has no idea what to say to the girl. So she says the one thing that has been poking at her brain.
“I can’t remember I used to be can you?” She asks it in English and Aiko’s head whips up so fast Takara thinks she might have second hand whiplash.
“…” Aiko opens her mouth, closes it and then narrows her eyes, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Reincarnation.” Takara says it with an eye roll.
They stare each other down; Takara with an unimpressed ( and tiny bit hopeful) expression, and Aiko glaringly.
“I still don’t know what you’re talking about.” Aiko finally says and goes back to writing.
“Okay, my mistake.” She says and walks away to find Naruto. Aiko has reminded her she needs to work on her characters too.
Aiko makes her second guess herself. Maybe she really was wrong, but luckily they are just children. Aiko probably won’t remember this later down the road. Even if she does, who would believe the ramblings of a child anyway? It hurts because she has to accept that she is really alone, but at the same time she can’t shake off the feeling that she’s right about Aiko.
Theo listens—watches, withers, waits—as the hastily reformed Wizenmagot sentences him to
twenty-three months of incarceration with no opportunity for parole; and all he
can suddenly think about is how the Malfoys are under house arrest, strolling
through pleasantly fragrant rose gardens and drinking hundred year-old bottles
of claret in their elegantly appointed drawing rooms and just—just biding their time, counting their gold
and feigning their remorse and clawing their way back from the dead like the
royal fucking parasites they’ve always been.
Theo, though—Theo is in chains.
He doesn’t speak as he’s led out of the courtroom. There’s
nothing to say, not really. His parents are dead. Zabini had fucked off to
France with his slinking, deadly snake of a mother. Theo had never had a lot of
friends—had never particularly seen the point of making any—but there is, he
imagines now, something uniquely terrible about being completely alone for this, the war-drum solemn moment his
life is inextricably altered.
The tattoo they ink onto the inside of his left wrist—prisoner
number 700, exactly—hurts less than he expects it to. He can almost feel the
power of the runes seeping into skin, mucking about with the chemistry of his
blood and his magic and his sense of self. Who he’s been, who he is, who he will be. It’s cruel, he decides. A
punishment fit for a crime he’s still not entirely sure he’d even properly