Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

To anyone reading this, you’re going to be absolutely gobsmacked at some stupid (yet important) decisions I have taken that lead to the best worst interesting path I seem to be on right now.

Piece of advice, if you graduate from university and get a job offer by the government, don’t take it. I wonder if that moment was the moment my fate was determined; my freshly graduated self, getting a card from a dude who looked like an MI6 agent. He wore sunglasses indoors, at night! The bells that rang at the back of my drunk mind should’ve tipped me off.

I knew I should’ve listened to my paranoia about government bodied officials and not trusting them. But sue me! I was flooded with euphoria (and high on the odd, bubbly champagne which was being served).

If only I had saved myself from that decision, I wouldn’t be lost. I could have been home, with a family. Or in bed.

Or at least, I could look up into the night sky.

I would never have to think that there would be a day in my life in which I wouldn’t recognize the pattern of the stars. Where I would realize I was no longer in the comfort of my own universe.

I just hope I didn’t end up in a universe where aliens or robots ruled the planet.

Chapter Text

Claire stretched out, her joints cracking as they finally shift position after hours of being in the same place. Her back arched against the red beanbag she had been leaning against. The laptop in her lap slipped to the side. Blinking harshly, Claire willed away the headache raging away. She picked up the device again and continued writing her report.

The room was filled with the sound of the keys being pressed at. Within a few minutes, Claire finished up the report and clicked on Print.

Across the room, the printer whirled to life and started printing the multiple pages she had just typed up.

Claire pulled herself up from the floor carefully. She pushed her weight on her left leg as she started to make her way towards her desk. The bruise she had acquired on her calf from the gym was still aching, despite her getting it eleven hours prior.

Her bulky laptop was set on the large glass desk. Tiredly, she snatched a board marker from one of her many pencil holders. Her words drew across the desk, large and clear.

Hand in report second thing tomorrow x

Running her hands through her horrendously puffed up hair, she grimaced. The dust and grim seemed to be embedded in between the strands of her hair. But what could she do? After all, the day had been quite a mess so she’d just have to power through today so she could do it all again tomorrow.

Making sure she had nothing other to do or note, Claire picked up her side bag and her coat. The dust stains on the usual dark coat made Claire groan out in frustration.

Why didn’t I see that before, she whined to herself.

“Fucking motorbikes,” she grumbled as she slipped her arms in the dirty item of clothing. Checking herself out in the mirror beside the door, she mentally laughed at herself.

She looked like she had crawled out a wreck with her bushy hair, dirty cloak, and white streaks all over the brown printed pants she wore.

Claire shut off all the lights and made her way towards the end of the hall. The rooms she passed had all already been emptied, cluing her in on the fact she was all alone in the area. Claire gripped the handle of her bag and walked faster. Her heels made clicking sounds as she power-walked out of the place she was in.

Maneuvering around the maze of halls, Claire finally got towards the door to the parking lot outside.

“Goodnight Dr. Murphy,” a guard tipped his hat at her.

“Goodnight Steven,” Claire smiled faintly, slowing down for the guard to check her bag for any papers she shouldn’t have.

But as always, Claire was clean and she was given the green light to leave the building.

“Say hi to the children from me,” she waved.

“Will do,” Steven called out to the near-empty lot.

Claire fished out the keys from her pocket and clicked open her car. She slipped into her driving seat and bent over the gears to place her belongings on the passenger seat. Her hands slipped around the seat belt which she buckled in.

Turning the key in the engine, Claire pulled out of the lot.

The stars were barely visible due to the storm clouds that shrouded them. Goosebumps ran across Claire’s exposed arms making her crank up the heaters. Although it was the smack middle of summer, the long drive between her work and her apartment was filled with chilly winds.

She placed an elbow at the door, resting her head on her stable (or more stable than before) hand. Two fingers lightly pressed against her head while her ring finger, as well as her pinky, curled up right beneath her eye. The cool window helped get her grounded in the sense it would keep her from falling asleep at the spot.

The car continued its journey for about ten more minutes before the silence was broken by Claire’s sharp breathe. Her arm slowly rose from its position next to the window, her mouth let out a yawn and she rolled her shoulder a couple of times to get feeling back in her limb.

Her bleary eyes peered at the glowing red numbers.

“Another take-out dinner,” she mumbled to herself.

But what kind of food, she wondered to herself. Thai food was last week, Chinese isn’t even possible if I want to come to work tomorrow and Indian doesn’t deliver so late.

The only downside to her job, she believed, was the fact it was so time-consuming. She had once not minded it when she saw the number of zeros on her first check. But as she grew older, she realized her contract was more constricting than she would have ever thought. Weeks blended into months which bleed into years. She was so caught up in trying to not drown in her work that she ended up missing the world moving on.

It took her a lot of time to realize it. Though, when she noticed everything was a bit too much for her to handle, she still made the same mistake when it was time to sign onto a new project; which meant another contract. The digits befuddled and tricked her into signing her soul away.

So the rare days she had off, she’d cook. Like she had planned to do today. But like almost every day, she got held back doing double tests and finishing up reports. So she got well accustomed to the takeaway restaurants near her apartment.

That Lebanese restaurant would be open by the time I reach home, she snapped her fingers. Glee ran through her blood, making her smile and sit up a little more attentive. I’ve been craving some Hummus and Shawarma since Mary bought some over last time.

Her foot pressed against the accelerator with a little more power. She had a date with the delicious wrapped ambrosia.

“Is it possible to increase the scale we’re working at,” the General twisted his head to stare down at her.

“What sort of scale will we be looking at then?”

He straightened his already straight posture, one hand unfastened his cuffs. Taking his time, he rolled up both of his sleeves until three forth of his arms were exposed. The distance between Claire and him became quite shorter as he took deliberate strides towards her.

A cold dread crept up onto Claire. She tried to shift her eyes, yet the General’s dull brown eyes seemed to have her fixate her eyes onto his. It was as though she was afraid she’d miss a change in his demeanor. Her heart pounded roughly against her ribcage as her pulse pressed outward, trying to get away from this situation as quickly as it could.

She forced her shaking leg deep into her heels. Showing any sign of weakness never ended great for her. But she could start to regret asking for clarification.

“The universe has multiple opportunities in helping save mankind. The only issue is that NASA isn’t as far as it could be with space travel,” his warm breath brushed across her face. “Let’s eliminate the need for NASA’s involvement in this issue.”

Claire's mouth dried and she slowly let out a nod.

Space travel without space equipment from NASA was illegal… wasn’t it?

The General raked his eyes over her face one more time before taking a step back.

Thinking it was a dismissal, Claire took a step back as well. Her eyes fell to the floor and she picked up her file.

“We’re not done here,” the General said mockingly, “We’ve got two more hours at this meeting. That means no one would disturb us at that time.”

Looking up from the ground, Claire saw him take a seat on one of the sofas in the room. His legs were man-spread across the sofa and he started undoing his shirt buttons. His simple wedding ring gleaned in the bright light as his fingers worked their way down his chest.

Claire’s eyes flickered from his body to the door and then back to him. The metallic door would only answer to the highest clearance code in the building. The only person who had it was in the room with her.

Dropping the file on the table, Claire stripped off the blazer she wore before stalking over to the General. Once she stood in between his knees, he grabbed at her waist and pulled her onto his lap. Her hands sprawled against his chest to keep herself from smacking into him. But he paid that no attention.

His lips harshly captured hers and his hands ran over her body, messing up the ironing on the clothes. He picked her up and placed her back onto the cold floor, not once pulling away from the kiss. Time seemed to blur as they both fell under the haze of pleasure.

Slumped over his chest, Claire let out an inaudible groan and sat up. She could see her flushed face in the reflection of the pristine floor. Sam The General also sat up, resting his weight on his hands and he leaned back. Taking a quick glance at the clock, the time revealed to be at its end for both of them. Though Claire knew that the General could always keep her in the room much more than he had mentioned.

Saying nothing, Claire pulled herself up from her position on top of him. She bent down and grabbed her clothes thrown over the low coffee table before pulling them on.

“Eight months,” he said while going back to his desk.

Claire looked at the papers in her hand before nodding at him. He dipped back in his chair and pressed at the keypad that allowed him to open the door. With a low buzz, the door swung open and Claire walked out, feeling more pressurized than ever.

Claire massaged her cramped fingers. The pen lay next to the book in which she was scribbling, its ink run out.

She picked up the coffee mug at the edge of the table and took another sip of the drink that had gone cold. Her nose scrunched up at the taste but she pushed forward.

Taking a good look over the blueprints and the calculations, Claire went over the matrix mentally one more time.

She picked up the booklet she had been given to go over and lifted it up to eye level so she could read it. The blotchy ink stains on the paper made her sigh. The assistants she was given had terrible hand-writing. Placing her mug down, she went over their thesis.

‘Conformal gravity may require a more sophisticated approach to cosmology.’

Pausing over the sentence, Claire bit her tongue. She tilted her head to the side and after a few moments of contemplating the budding idea, she lifted her eyebrows up.

Claire placed the paper down and pressed on the buzzer. The buzz cut off.

“How may we help you?”

Picking up the 231 paged booklet, she peered at the title page, “Can you please ask Ms. Grayson to meet me in my office in forty minutes?”

Putting the booklet down, she stood up and went around her table.

“Certainly Dr. Murphy,” the responder hummed. “Code?”

“10-C blue.”

“Alright, thank you for calling Dr. Murphy.”

Claire leaned over and ended the connection. She picked up her mug only to down the remaining coffee. Wiping some coffee that dripped from the corner of her mouth, Claire pulled out the numerous whiteboards stored in the built-in-wall closet.

The rollers on the boards let out little squeaks due to being used after so long. Once all eight of the boards were lined up by the glass walls, opposite to sofas she had, she pulled the board makers out of her cup holder.  

Placing one open marker over her ear, she went through the booklet again. She nitpicked at the calculations and wrote them on the board. Slowly but surely, the boards were getting filled with calculations and side notes.

If this actually works, we’ll be ahead of schedule. Which means I can take a couple of days off!

Determined to actually check if she was going to be able to take some time off this project (and away from the General), Claire put all of her focus on going over the new path.

She nibbled at the dry end of the marker, her head tilted downwards as she muttered to herself.

“If we propose a second elemental version, then the problem that pops up is close to the one considered by Piran and Sorkin. But, considering how we have new data that discards their view of a periodically-identified fifth dimension. Then we can tap into it using the SK-Levanter project, we might possibly be able to open a dominant cellular break.”

Her voice volume went lower and lower until she no longer spoke out loud. Pacing in front of the last board, she chewed more harshly.

Sending a quick glance at the clock opposite to her, she noted that Grayson was running late. Claire sighed and strode over the desk. She reached over the phone set placed on the table and picked it up. She bounced her foot impatiently after dropping the markers in their cup. Once she was patched through, she requested Grayson’s presence once more.

“Sorry Dr. Murphy, Ms. Grayson was called up to a meeting and is busy with the General.”

A chill went through her body, “Ms. Grayson is extremely crucial to some matrixes I need to go over.”

“But the General insisted I leave him alone for the meeting,” the responder apologized. “I could, however, direct Ms. Grayson towards you as soon as the meeting is over. If you’d like?”

“If she isn’t here in five minutes, I’ll call up the Director in an instant to tell her you discarded my orders!”

“Ma’am please, I’m just doing what the General told me,” she nervously pleaded.

“I need Ms. Grayson now!”

“But The General’s authority overrides yours.”

“Not when it comes to needing the members on this project,” Claire growled out. “Two minutes or my next call goes to the Director.”

The responder stammered out a reply but Claire ended the link. As soon as the line went dead, Claire sagged forward. Her hands shot in front of her, stabilizing her body against the table.

Disgust and horror-filled her making her feel nauseous. She fought back the urge to empty her stomach with much difficulty. She breathed in deeply and concentrated on counting numbers rhythmically. But her mind seemed far away and she couldn’t seem to comprehend time.

A knock pulled her out of the sickening state she found herself in. Her body trembled as she straightened up and called out to come in.

The towering person Claire was waiting for walked through the door. With a mental thank you, Claire indicated to the sofa for Fiona to sit on.

Fiona timidly made herself to the seat.

“Water?”

Fiona practically jumped out of her skin and nodded shakily. Claire picked up another water bottle for her guest from the side mini-refrigerator. She carefully strolled over to the seating area and took her seat opposite from her guest. Placing the unopened water bottle on the coffee table between them, she gently held her own bottle.

Claire made sure she didn’t seem to mirror any of the body languages. It was something the General always did. Normally, it would calm the other person down but anyone who met the General knew otherwise; they just got tenser.

She looked away when she noticed Fiona seemed to shift in agitation.

Fiona picked up her water bottle and took a couple of sips. The silence was tense but Claire tried to keep herself from seeming extremely non-threateningly open. Another technique of his truly.

“Thank you,” Fiona softly murmured. Claire looked away from the carpet and onto Fiona. Her gaze flickered down to the coffee table after a couple of seconds.

“I’ll make sure he doesn’t try anything again,” Claire solemnly swore. Her eyebrows pulled together.

Fiona shrugged and looked away. Her leg started to bounce. After a few moments, she looked back to Claire and let out a scared huff, “But that would mean he’d do it to you.”

Claire licked her lips and smiled politely.

“I’ll make sure he won’t target any young member.”

Fiona let out a shaky breath and opened her mouth as if to warn Claire not to commit to what she had just stated. But her eyes searched Claire’s. The old self-hatred seeping through her eyes tipped Fiona off whose face just dropped.

“You knew.”

Claire’s face withered and she shrugged. Claire licked her lips once more, not minding the terrible flinch before addressing Fiona.

“I kept him from going after the younger members in this facility after he started with me. I just didn’t realize how much time was being consumed lately.”

“Were you the first?”

“No,” Claire admitted, the feeling of heartache for her former co-workers and bosses overwhelming her, “But I’ll do my best to be the last.”

Fiona bit at her inner cheek and gave a single nod. She shifted her gaze from Claire and onto her lap.

“Did-.”

Claire understood the chocked up question Fiona was trying to get out, “No. It’s – complicated.”

“But you have.”

Claire huffed out and popped around the bottle cap. She avoided her gaze with Fiona as she took a gulp of water.

“I didn’t call you here for an interrogation about my bad choices in life.”

Fiona’s furrowed eyebrows were exposed from the partitioned bangs.

“Did I do something wrong? Or was it something about my duties,” Fiona carefully folded her hands on her lap.

Claire lowered her elevated shoulders and took a deep breath.

You can do it.

“Actually, it was your thesis.”

“Did it not have enough explanation,” Fiona trailed off confused.

Claire’s tense smile loosened up.

Fiona is adorable.

“Does this seem familiar,” she waved at the boards that were scribbled with Fiona’s calculations and Claire’s diagrams.

Fiona’s eyes ran over the words. She got up from her place and walked closer to the boards. After she read the fifth board, her body froze.

“Is it – did we just?”

Claire nodded, “Your calculations were right. Just the scale of numbers was inaccurate. Not to mention, we didn’t need Plank’s constant in the third step.”

Fiona’s mouth dropped open.

“But how – I barely even sunk into the calculations part?”

“Your line,” Claire bought up the booklet so she could read it out loud. “It gave me the kick start idea for this angle which lead to the use of some of your calculations.”

Fiona blushed at the blatant eyebrow raise at the ‘some’.

“Congratulations Ms. Grayson, you just founded the first paper to ever help in Space-Time travel.”

Fiona laughed unbelievingly and shook her head.

“What does this mean?”

Claire gave a proud smile and she leaned forward

“You’re officially now the co-manager on this project,” she titled her head to the side. “Welcome aboard Ms. Grayson.”

The shocked look on Fiona’s face couldn’t be wiped away. Tears started to gather in the corner of her eyes as she directed the purist smile Claire had ever see towards her.

I know I made some unruly choices in the past, but lord help me, I can’t handle losing anything else to Sam.

Claire plucked the helmet from the hands of the worker.

“Thank you,” she muttered as the man returned to his post.

Claire stood proud, the air around them whipped harshly as they waited for the helicopter to land. The loud sound of the blades was drowned out when she donned on the white hard hat.

“The generators are all in place,” Fiona came up behind Claire. “And the batteries are all powered up.”

Claire gave Fiona a side glance.

“Where’s your hard hat?”

“Oh, they couldn’t find one in white,” Fiona shrugged. “It’s alright.”

“Take mine,” Claire insisted. “I have enough experience with these people which means I can curb my desires for hitting my head with the wall. You don’t.”

Fiona giggled at the joke but shook her head.

“They’re getting me a grey one. It should be here with the hard hats for the Bosses.”

Giving another critical look over Fiona’s body, Claire nodded and shifted into her prior pose.

The helicopter blades finally came to a stop and the doors opened up. Stepping out of the ride, two military men stood back to back. They held them on the side as if to guard the next person against and against any threat.

The first visual of the Director was her stark white plumps than come to a stop on the sandy ground. She climbed out of the helicopter at a leisurely pace. Inch by inch, her white pantsuit came into view.

“This is it,” Fiona muttered. “Oh, fuck!”

“Breath,” Claire said from the corner of her mouth, making sure not to look so obvious when talking.

“What if she hates it?”

“She won’t.”

“Oh my god! I didn’t spray perfume! If she comes near me, she’ll smell me sweating like a pig.”

“Fiona,” Claire warned once Fiona’s voice became louder.

The Director got off and they both waited, holding their breaths as she strode over to them. Her red hair was tied up in a Dutch braid and it looked so soft and in place that Claire felt awkward about her own hair. Despite the fact she had been to the hairdresser to get her hair done and continue her Keratin Treatment Plan, her hair still managed to frizz up, looking like a stringy mess of rough wires.

“It’s showtime,” Fiona whispered to herself in a deep voice.

Claire scoffed fondly but straightened up as the Director pulled up in front of the duo.

“Dr. Murphy,” the gorgeous red-head greeted. “It’s been a while.”

“Ms. Canmore, a pleasure to see you. May I introduce Ms. Grayson?”

“Yes, your thesis that led to a paving discovery in this project,” she smiled warmly. “And may I constantly repeat myself, Claire? Do call me Donna.”

“As you wish.”

Donna grinned at Claire and started to walk towards the shelter where they would show off the new devices. Her voice carried over before she started to question Fiona.

Once both Fiona and Claire were hidden from Donna’s view, as they were walking behind her, Fiona shot a look at Claire and wiggled her eyebrows.

Claire just gave a faux-glare in return.

The seatbelt was tough to pull down.

“You sure you don’t want me to go with you?”

Claire looked at Fiona and released her hands from the belt she was wrestling with.

“Positive. You need to stay back and organize the blueprints. Get some sleep before we get back as well.”

“Alright,” Fiona thumbed up at Claire.

“Great,” Claire went back to struggling with her belt. She stared cross-eyed down as she snagged it forward, piece by piece.

“Hey, go treat yourself tonight. You did great,” Claire called out to the girl who was making her way out of the plane.

Fiona turned around and waved, “We can go get take out when you come back!”

Claire smiled and nodded, but she was too far and Fiona had already turned around.

Shoving the contraception into the metal buckle, Claire let out a sigh of relief and rested her head against the wall of the plane. The headache that had begun to snowball through the meeting seemed to attack the temple of her forehead.

Claire breathed in and out, taking in the sounds of the military personal carry about their guns and the supplies for the flight. The repetition of the noise lulled her to sleep.

A loud tearing noise shocked Claire awake. The transition from sleep to waking up was so jarring that when she opened her eyes, she couldn’t feel her grasp on reality.

“What was that,” she questioned groggily to the blonde sitting opposite of her.

He licked his lips and looked at the pilot pit, “Must have just been some turbulence.”

“Don’t worry Dr. Murphy, we’ve got it all covered. You should go back to sleep,” the female trooper said more convincingly. “This is just Sam’s first time in the air. Let’s not let his fears scare us off.”

Claire’s eyes flicked about the trio in front of her. The brunette who hadn’t said anything since the beginning just nodded along to the female.

Claire nodded hesitantly.

“Alri-.”

The words in her mouth trailed off when the red lights in the military plane flashed on.

“Mayday! Mayday! Everyone buckle up!”

Claire straightened up and looked at the pilot pit in nervous fear.

“What’s going on,” she shouted over the shrill alarms.

Sam stumbled over to the flying compartment.

“We flew straight into a Tornado in this storm!”

The flashing lights practically assaulted her senses and Claire fastened her eyes. Her hands slipped around the cross Fiona had gifted her weeks ago.

“-Murphy!”

“Calm down! We won’t let anything happen to you!”

The female seemed to have just jinxed them. Because right next to her, the wall of the aircraft seemed to let out a hoarse groan before it was yanked away by the power of the Tornado.

The wind roared, and the sand particles rushed into the plane, engulfing the space within it. Claire’s eyes shot wide open and she felt her food rise up to her throat. Her hands fumbled around the side of her face and she grabbed onto her glasses. The sand pecked at her haggard face, getting into her eyes and mouth.

The wrecked airplane pitched forward, suddenly being pulled down to gravity face first.

“Dr. Murphy! Your strap!”

Claire grabbed the seatbelt and tugged furiously at it. One, two, three tugs.

She let out a breathy ‘no’ and yanked it even harder.

“It’s n- It’s not opening,” she yelled back at the armed operator.

The lean male looked around and quite carefully made his way down the airplane that was nose-diving into the atmosphere.

Below her, she heard Sam yelling frantically at the pilots.

Claire wildly looked around for anything to help her comprehend what had happened and how it happened but the terrible panic in her brain seemed to overthrow every logic out. In the corner of her eye, she grasped something out the window.

“What th-!”

A big, heavy something collided with the pit of the plane, and she heard a sickening crunch. The violent impact made her head jerk and slam into the wall behind her. Above her, the brunette paused momentarily, attempting to get control over the situation once more.

A creaky groan froze her panicking and she stared upwards, at the prototype that strained against its bonds.

“It’ll be alright,” the male shouted over the wind, “It’s been doing that since the beginning.”

“That’s not good,” she shouted back.

“Doesn’t matter as long as we get you out and parachute out of here!”

He reached into his pocket, brandishing a bulky knife.

“I’m gonna cut the strap! Don’t move!”

Claire shakily nodded and pressed her body against the wall. Above her, the floor under the prototype let out another screeching groan before the ropes on it snapped open.

“Look out!”

The guy who was helping her had just enough time to look up before the prototype smacked into him, splattering Claire with blood. His knife dug itself against the side of her pants, barely missing her skin when he got slammed by the machine.

Her voice went out as she noticed the ground getting closer and closer.

C’mon, c’mon. C’mon!

Claire punched the metal buckle and the belt snapped open, smacking her left eye with a deep crack.

It took a moment before gravity pulled Claire’s sore body down and her hands scrambled at the belt. She wrapped her right wrist around it, to keep herself from falling into the pit on the plane.

Above her, another identical groan made her look up in unutterable horror. This time, she noticed the machine - the very one the biomechanics team had been working on - tumble down and smack against Claire; who just cried out in pain as she felt something in her bound wrist give away. It continued to glide down the plane and whack into the prototype she had helped design.

As soon as the two devices touched, a blazing blue light emitted from them. It was so intense, that as Claire used her good hand to screen her eyes, her desperate grip on the arid belt slipped and she found herself plummeting to her death.

Chapter Text

Claire dimly woke up, pain radiating from the right side of her body. She let out a choked sob as she sluggishly raised her head. Her eyes stung ferociously at the sight of something burning by her side. Her blurry vision didn’t do much help in completely making out where she was, and she just hoped the smoke from the fire would attract some help. Help that would heal her or bring her to someone who could assist her medically.

Claire let out a moan when the shock of her fall started to leave her body.

I need to move away. Need to move away from the fire in case there was leakage in the fuel!

Claire rolled over to her left side. She bit her tongue, controlling the pained grunt that was bubbling up. Her eyes fluttered shut. She raised herself up and crawled away as slowly as she could possibly afford.

She managed to drag herself a couple of meters away before she lost the battle against the pain, collapsing on the ground. Her face slammed against the dry sand.

Claire felt the sand stick to the wetness around her left eye. She choked out a gasp at the stinging and forced herself on her back.

Far enough from the fire, she could make out the bright stars in the night.

That doesn’t make sense. I can’t find the North Star.

Claire’s eyes went cross-eyed. Within seconds, she collapsed and, the only indication she was alive was the motion of her chest as she breathed feverishly.

Claire stumbled behind the short stature of her guard – a ‘shinobi’. Her feet dragged behind the guard as they walked down a maze of corridors. Her heavy head bobbed back and forth as they walked onwards.

Claire gave up trying to keep an idea of where they came from within the second time they walked past a unique door. She trembled against the slightly cold air of the building.

She held a stack of clothes under one of her arms. They had already changed her ruined garbs when they had to heal her cracked ribs and stitch up the wound on her left side. But they were too light for her to wander around in.

The slightly judgmental looks thrown at her clued her into the fact she might be wearing sleeping clothes.

She felt like a zombie. Wishing to stop and close her eyes to block out anything that had transpired today.

But she couldn’t.

Claire forced herself to look straight ahead. She looked over the kid once again. She had initially assumed it was a joke when he had introduced himself as her guard. But his eyes had seemed far too grim for her to even crack a smile. He looked quite relieved to find her alive. The nurse who had tended her told her that it was he who found her in the wreckage.

They pulled to a stop in front of a dark grey door. He stood to the side, watching her silently.

Claire slipped inside, her body trembling with exhaustion. She trained her eyes onto the floor, and away from the mirrors that framed one wall. Coincidentally, they were placed above the sinks.

She shut the cubicle door behind her and rested her back against it.

She blinked furiously to get rid of the wetness gathering up. She undressed and slipped into the sturdier clothes. The green-ish coloured shirt was slightly loose and lengthwise, it fell down to her knees. Claire messily tucked it inside the black pant-pyjamas. They dragged down under her sandals and so she leaned down to roll them up. She clenched her jaw as a rush of pain came from her right palm.

Claire swiped several tissues from the basin next to the sink, her eyes still focused on the flooring. When she exited the bathroom, her guard looked over her.

“They’re big on you,” his lips tugged downwards.

Claire shrugged and averted her eyes. His lips thinned out and he sighed when Claire didn’t say anything.

He led her through a new path. One which was far much distinguishable than the previous. The wall colours shifted from the dull grey into more colourful shades of baby blues and pinks.

They entered a separate building. The receptionist desk was void of its person and so Claire hesitantly took a seat. The guard stayed standing up. He placed himself strategically close enough to the door to see any passerby yet close enough to shield Claire with his body is ever needed.

Claire shifted uncomfortably on the metal chair, feeling a lot like she was waiting for her executioner.

Ten minutes passed. No one showed up. Another fifteen minutes passed before the side door opened.

A rumpled woman entered the room.

“I’m sorry,” she smiled. But her eyes were red-rimmed like she had been recently crying. “How may I help you?”

Claire looked to the shinobi who just held out a stack of papers to the receptionist.

She hurried over and plucked them up. She scanned the top page and lowered the file from her face.

“Well, Komoda-san isn’t in today. But I can handle this,” she asked.

The shinobi gave a single nod and turned to Claire. He gently told her that he’d be in the administrator’s office. Claire thanked him for everything. Once he left, Claire followed the receptionist into a light green room.

Claire took another seat while the receptionist took her seat behind the table. The receptionist placed the file in the middle of the desk. She sighed and took off her glasses, throwing them off onto the desk.

 The receptionist shut her eyes and rubbed her temples. Claire bit the inside of her cheek and picked at her bandages.

“Do you know what happened Sato-san?”

Claire looked up at the receptionist with wide eyes. That was such a vague question.

The receptionist clasped her hands and leaned forward.

“After you were found in the wreckage, you were bought to Suna. None of your family was found alive. Even though we nurture any lost individual under our wings in Suna, it is not possible right now. Because of the circumstances that have led you here as well as the nature of war going on right now, the government of Suna has no other choice than to fully emancipate you.

Now in cases where incidents like this happen, a stipend is given to the individual from the government. Yet, as the attack on your carriage was you getting in the middle of the war, and not being attacked by bandits, we recovered most of the money you were travelling with. Which you are going to use as your funds. Not to mention, your family had already sent over some funds as to not carry it all with you at the moment of moving. That money, however, you will get as soon as you get a Suna resident passport.”

Claire silently nodded as she categorized all the information for the future.

“And when do I get a passport?”

“After eight months of living in Suna. Any other question?”

Claire hesitantly shook her head. The receptionist hummed, pushed herself away from the desk and went over to the draws on the side. She pulled one open and ruffled through the files. It creaked when she put her weight against it. She pulled out a paper and handed it to Claire.

“This is the list of all available apartments, hotels and inns that are well in your price range.”

She went to another draw and repeated the procedure. Only this time, she got two papers.

“And these are all available jobs.”

Claire looked at the papers in her hands and quickly scanned the papers to try to get a clue of anything that was going on. But she got nothing in return from the inanimate items.

“Any questions?”

“Um…what about taxes?”

“Tax is cut from the income itself. So you don’t need to worry about that. There’s a five percent tax on every item except luxury items which have a tax of seventeen percent.”

“The…um…laws?”

The receptionist’s tense shoulders fell and she got up again.

“This has an outline of everything in Suna’s laws. But we gather around on Friday morning around each district’s platform for further news about the war and if there’s anything new that has been implemented by the Kazekage.”

Claire clutched the papers to her chest as an overwhelming feeling came over her.

“Hey,” the receptionist said softly. “Everything is going to be okay soon.”

She put her hand on Claire’s shoulder and rubbed it up and down.

Claire swallowed back her tears and thanked the woman. (“Oh dear! I forgot to introduce myself. I’m Yamamoto Aiya.”)

Slightly feeling better but still overwhelmed, Claire made her way out of the building. She ended up asking the first person she saw for directions, despite the address written on the papers, for the apartments.

The man behind the counter shot her a suspicious look but gave her the directions she asked for.

Right before heading over into the apartment that she could rent out, Claire made sure to go over the neighbourhood beforehand. She scoured the distance between the closest grocery store as well as utility store before asking the shop owners about the reputation of the neighbourhood. The last step in her endeavour was asking the neighbours.

Most of them seemed unwilling to talk to her, even when she mentioned she was going to buy an apartment in the area. It was only when they saw the black stamp on the top of her papers that they wore down with pity in their eyes.

Not like it was helpful. Their answers were tainted with promises and smiles. Claire needed cold-hard facts.

It took time. Hours she felt slipping through her hands like the sands of the desert.

In the end, she chose an apartment that was slightly cheaper than the rest of the options. The owner asked for two months’ pay in advance. Something she was okay with paying. Despite its ‘cheapness’, she still felt a heart attack coming on as her money transferred hands.

The apartment chosen was in actuality just a room. A cramped room with no furniture inside it except a low table placed in the middle of the room. On one wall of the room, were multiple draws and cabinets lined up and down. Some cabinets were thicker than the rest. A tiny sink, about a square in length, was in the right side of the wall. Its white basin seemed washed out and deepened with dirt.

There was a bathroom attached. Yet it was so tiny that she only had enough space to use it and turn around.

Overall, the place didn’t look like the amount it was worth.

But even as Claire got her key, a heavy, dull key, she felt a sigh of relief.

She had finally hunted down and eliminated one issue (Just a thousand left, her mind so unhelpfully pipped up).

As soon as Claire got the key, she shut the door. She placed her heavy head on the dry door. She breathed in shakily. Her breath out was even shakier and she broke down. Ugly, fat sobs erupted from her dry lips. Her tears slapped the frame of the door. Her hands fisted the papers, crumpling them.

Who knew how much time passed while she leaned on the door for support as she cried. Claire shoved her hand which was hadn’t been wrapped over her mouth. She bit into her hand to keep herself from crying on further. She had to stop. She needed to focus on getting home but the thought of what had just transpired wasn’t settling inside her.

How could it be possible? Why was she alive and in some other universe? Would Fiona even realize there was something amiss with Claire missing from the wreckage? Would they even find the wreckage?

The crumbled papers in her hand fluttered down to the ground. Her throat spasmed against nothing and she choked. Her jugular twitched as her heartbeat raced rather than slowing down.

Claire clenched her jaw, hoping the pain would shock her out of her state. Her body trembled as she bent down to pick her papers up. Her legs collapsed when she had moved two feet closer to the low table.

Bandaged palms smacked against the wood. Silent tears still slipped down her cheeks. She buried her head in her arms.

After all she had been through, this was a step too far. She couldn’t do this. She couldn’t. Time slipped her grasp and she lifted her head once she felt calmer.

She had gone through too much to give up now.

First, she’d need information.

I need to focus on finding a job ASAP. Maybe two jobs if I have enough time. That’ll help me get a steady flow of information.

She brushed aside a stray tear. She let out a deep, wet breath and licked her dry lips. The paper crinkled loudly in the otherwise silent room when she smoothed it over.

She wet her thumb and played with the top corner. A list of shops ran down the length of the paper (though it was a pretty short paper), with the job vacancy next to the names. A brief description was written for each job vacancy and a time frame for the interview. She flipped the paper, and her eyes surveyed the contents. The other list had some jobs that seemed too strenuous for her frame. Maybe if she got more fit.

The other page was just too much for her age. Streetwalking, helping scarlet women, alcohol testing…

Claire searched the room and found a cracked clock pinpointed above the main door.

If she moved now, she’d have enough time to go through all the appropriate shops and find a job. Claire steeled herself as she got up. A weary heaviness had already set in her bones.

She sluggishly walked to the bathroom and splashed the water on her face.

Another issue. Living in a desert would mean water was sacred and probably very expensive. She’d have to cut down on her usual spending to keep from spending so much on the bills.

She dragged a hand down her eyes. A moment later, she slapped her cheeks to get some colour back into them. The first slap didn’t do much in that department and so she did it again. Only this time it made it all too clear with the red-hand print on her cheeks.

She stared at the image of herself. So different from what she was used to.

Her eyes flickered back down to the sink and she shut them for a moment. Vertigo slammed into her but she just cleared her throat and started to adjust her hair. She parted the partially dry hair into two sections and crossed them, slipping each section underneath the other. She wrapped one section against the cross, creating a bun.

There were two bobby pins on the sink, probably from the previous tenants. Claire didn’t have a hair-tie, so she didn’t feel any remorse when she plucked them up and pined the hair section in place. She did the same with the other section.

Her face was still framed with some short hairs that escaped the pin. Therefore, Claire just tucked them behind her ear.

She ran her tongue over her canines and incisors. After a moment of just staring at herself, she unbuttoned her pants, shoved the long shirt after tucking its end twice, and re-buttoned the pants over it. She quickly bloused it and then, more slowly, looked over her overall look once more.

It’ll pass with the limited resources I have.

She dragged her sandaled feet over to the table to grab the papers and quietly slipped out of the confining room.

The brunette braced herself as she walked up to the first, and closest, job. A grocery store that needed a cashier for hours between two am and eight am. One look at Claire’s short stature and the job was a bust. How could she keep anyone from shoplifting something if she had to use a box to be able to look above the high counter?

The next shop needed a delivery person. The second they noticed the date of Claire’s transfer to Suna, the job slipped through her hands. The manager — a short, thinning individual — frowned sympathetically.

“I’m sorry. But, if you really need a job, we have a vacancy open for a janitor.”

Claire’s eyes shot to his face.

He pursed his lips, “The pay won’t be much. And we’ll need you to check-in at four in the morning. The inventory would need to be sorted according to date, size, and type. Once that’s done, you’ll need to clean the reception room as well as the warehouse itself.”

Claire nodded, and just like that, she was having a quick tour of the place she would take care of. He mentioned the pay, where all the cleaning supplies were located and introduced her to the other delivery person.

Claire politely bowed to the manager - the grocery shop owner certainly seemed miffed when she left without doing it - and made her way to the next store.

The job had already been filled. As had the next job. Kicking the ground, Claire walked to the next store with her hands in her pockets.

It was another janitor job, one with more hours than the first but with just the similar pay.

“We’ll see you at seven next week, Yato-san,” she tilted her head down.

Claire bowed down to the owner. Another job gained. But she still wouldn’t make enough money to pay for anything other than rent.

Claire aimlessly walked through the streets. She needed to earn more. Any job would be fine. She majored in electrical engineering and mechanical engineering. Her minoring in psychology and computer engineering should help too. But there wasn’t anything available like that.

Claire glared up at the fiery sun and trudged over to the grocery store she asked for directions from in the morning. Picking up a basket, Claire started to buy groceries. But one look at the prices, she set the basket back down and fled the store.

Sure they were going through a war, but how expensive could squash really be?

Claire mapped out the place in her mind, as she went from store to store, comparing prices. Most places kept the same high-end prices but there was a miserable stand whose prices were minutely less than the rest.

She carried her groceries (plus an alarm clock) silently back to her apartment. The owner had struck up a conversation with Claire, offering her some useful information about the way she could earn some money.

The general clinic in the lower part of Suna was missing a lot of help. Most of the healers were medic-nin and had been put on teams outside of Suna. They were working on the frontlines, healing, and nurturing injured Shinobi back to health. Leaving behind limited non-combat healers in Suna. Those who were working were stationed in hospitals that were expensive forcing cheaper alternatives to work overtime with their limited help.

She had no knowledge with deeper workings of a doctor herself, but her dad had been an ENT doctor. Maybe she could still get a job, working off on the information she used to get from her dad.

Claire put away the items in the apartment and left the room once again. The clinic wasn’t that far to walk to. But as soon as she had her sight on the median sized building, she understood the issue. There were many people crowded about the entrance. Any person leaving the building had trouble leaving with the blocked path. Loud clamouring could be heard from half a block away, the noise disturbing all other houses within that radius.

Claire took her place in the line. In front of her, a couple bickered back and forth. She frowned at the beginnings of a headache that started to build up in her temples.

The line in front of her moved slowly and tediously. When it was Claire’s turn to stand in front of a doctor, she bowed and introduced herself with the name everyone in Suna believed to be hers.

“So what’s the problem, Sato-san,” the female doctor peered at Claire over the glasses.

“I- uh…I’m not sick. Or injured,” she started. The doctor stared at her like she was insane.

“If that’s the issue, then I’ll need you to leave. We have a lot of patients to care for.”

Claire’s stammered at the sharp tone, “I want to help. I know how to deal with simple patients and I need a job.”

“Listen. It’s nice that you can deal with simple patients, but we need actually experienced doctors so we don’t misdiagnose anything. Thank you for trying, but we can’t accept you.”

Claire stumbled to the side as the kid behind her pushed her.

“I can help organize this!”

The doctor sighed and asked the patient for a minute.

“Organize what?”

“This mess. I’ll take care of the mess, the noise, the disorder. Everything.”

The doctor fixed her glove, looking thoughtful. But there was hesitance on her face.

“I’ll start right now. You can even do a trial run for today. If you find it beneficial then I’ll stay. But if it doesn’t make that much of a difference, then I’ll leave.”

The doctor faced her patient again, “Come tomorrow. We have too many people for you to start attempting to do anything.”

Claire smiled appreciate at the doctor and left the clinic in better hopes than she did going in.

She had far too much energy than to just go back. But Claire knew she would crash as soon as she lied down and so set back to the apartment. A kid peeked at her through a crack of the door opposite to her apartment. She waved at him yet he slammed the door shut.

Claire’s tired smile slowly became more awkward, and she lifted the door slightly before shoving inside.

She dropped the papers on the low table, kicked off her shoes by the side, and stretched slightly.

Claire’s fingers wrapped around the lukewarm vegetable out of the more-than-normal cold cupboard. The thick walls of the cupboard seemed to contain a heavier metal that either retained heat or produced it. Claire wanted to tweak around and try to figure it out, but her stomach was turning on itself.

The dull knife cut into the fresh vegetables and hit the worn-out cutting board - that had been pulled out from the draw under the sink. After rummaging through the other cupboards, she found a pot that was in good condition. She gave it a quick wash and then placed it on the open flame.

The oil hissed violently as the squash joined the tiny onion browning.

She grabbed the yellow-orange tomato and started to dice it up as well. There was no cooking utensil other than the knife and a moulding ladle. The store she ultimately shopped at still had high prices for items such as ladles, spatulas, and tongs. The prices for local chopsticks were nearly as expensive but fifty yen cheaper. It was no brainer that she’d choose the chopsticks.

Though, as Claire mixed the fried food, she decided that she wasn’t going to use it for eating. Her hands were clean enough.

Claire pulled out the flatbread from its packaging. It had been nearly stale and thus less hard on her wallet.

Her shirt was pulled off, turned inside out and folded it to place under the hot pot. Once she made sure the table was at no risk of getting scorched, she attacked the food with gusto. Mid-meal, Claire hunched over the food. Her hair fell in front of her eyes, and she swallowed painfully. The heaviness in her throat was as though she was choking on a stone.

Claire had to force the situation out of mind but every bite felt like ash in her mouth.

Her movements were clumsy during the aftercare of eating. Her eyes felt heavy and her head full of cotton. Claire dried her wet hands on her pants and stumbled to the corner of the room. She dropped to the floor with a yawn and curled over the solid ground. In the silence of the night, she could hear the wind pushing through the tiny slots of the walls and floor spacing.

Hot tears slipped down the side of her face. The sounds of tiny plops of her tears connecting the sandy floor slightly resonated throughout the room.

Claire rushed about the block, arranging people in lines of emergencies and the nature of their injuries. The heat of the sun was relentless against her back. A pool of sweat became to build on her upper lip and she wiped her face on the shoulder of her shirt.

A young woman placed a hand underneath her bump and leaned against the pillar of the neighbouring shop. Claire skidded to a stop, her eyes darting back at the pale woman and to the line she was keeping in check. Claire hesitated before she rushed back in and grabbed one of the extra chairs that had previously been full of miscellaneous items.

Ever since she appeared at the clinic before dawn even arrived, she had not only rearranged the order of files, shifting them to the backroom instead of the main room, but she also removed the piles of medical items from chairs. They were placed in the cupboards and on the now-empty shelves. During this process, the clinic was near empty and so she was alone to obsess over the formulas of the medicine.

The male nurse was busy writing down the list of casualties they had faced. Meanwhile, most of the doctors were snoozing off in the operation room. (Though it didn’t have a certain room, the cleanliness of the room and heavily padded walls seemed to strongly hint at it.)

So Claire cleaned up the busiest part of the little clinic, armed with dusters and medical disinfectants. By the time she had managed to tame it, a trickle of customers started to make their way inside.

Claire had grabbed an empty notebook and a coarse feeling pen and took names as well as the key reason for their visit. She carefully directed each patient to a targeted doctor.

When sorting out the files, she had sneaked through the information of the doctors and took notes on what was their speciality.

She wasn’t a complete idiot!

Once she had her list ready, she had started venturing out and taking care of other patients that appeared to be overly tired and hurt.

The pregnant woman smiled gratefully at Claire who just held out her hand and aided the woman to slowly sink onto the chair.

While she managed to make the clinic more orderly and fix the most major issues, she still had no idea how to deal with the raging number of customers that just seemed to influx at noon. Their lines were so long that it felt as though all of Claire’s hard work was washed away in seconds after the crowds appeared.

Hours later, she slinked back inside the cool clinic. Sweat poured down her back, her face red from the sun.

A glass of water appeared in her line of sight.

“Drink before you have a heat stroke,” Daichi said with an eyebrow raise.

Claire gulped down the cold water and sighed as her throat felt better than it had before. He dragged a chair over to Claire. His hands hovered over her forearm. With her nod, he placed his fingers at her pulse and concentrated.

“Try deep breaths,” Daichi said. He leaned over to a used table and pulled out a white hand towel for Claire.

Claire followed his instructions and she could feel the cold sensation in her arms disappear. The minor tremors in her legs lessened after a few minutes.

“So let’s discuss working hours?”

Claire straightened and turned to the nurse in front of her. They easily made an exception for her and the hours she’d be busy with her other jobs.

“We all work two jobs here to support our family,” he added.

The pay was nowhere near worth the amount of work she was doing and by the sympathetic gaze, Daichi knew it too. But it was better than searching for two new jobs. They went over the duties she had and then he pulled out a contract.

Claire signed away at the papers (which meant that her job here was way more official than the simple janitor work) and was handed a grey scrub set.

Claire simply blinked.

“Every staff will know of your job and so won’t mistake you as a patient sneaking about,” Daichi added softly at her lost look.

Claire ran her fingers down the thin, sturdy material. She could probably live these clothes for the rest of her life.

Daichi chuckled at her wonder.

“You should get some rest. Especially since you’ve been up since Dawn.”

“Before dawn,” she corrected.

“And so more the reason for you to rest. You can take a cot in the other room.”

Claire shrugged, her eyes downcast. Yes, she was tired, but it wasn’t so bad.

“You should pace yourself. This heat doesn’t seem like much right now, Yui-chan, but you can actually get sun sickness.”

The solemnity of his voice at the sickness confused Claire and so she relented.

“And maybe change out of those sweat-soaked clothes before lying down?”

Claire trotted off to the backroom. Her clothes easily slid off and she donned on the new clothing.

She leaned against one of the metal drawers for a moment. Her eyes shut against her own accord.

She breathed deeply and stripped the bandaging that ran across her hand and arms. The swelling had gone down. But it still hurt when she tried clenching her hands into fists.

Her tongue swiped across her upper lip as she focused on fixing the position of the bandages. Sweat accumulated on her forehead as she struggled.

Someone knocked at the closed door.

“Yui-chan? Do you need any help,” Himari asked.

“Please,” her voice came out quieter than she wanted.

She hated it. She was a grown woman but her body was young. No matter what she tried doing, her body betrayed her maturity.

Himari peaked her head inside. Her eyes were shut for a moment. She opened them when Claire said she was decent.

“Hey,” she said softly.

Himari closed the door behind her gently and leaned down to Claire’s height – another thing she hated was how short she was. Himari smiled comfortingly.

“Can I bandage that, Yui-chan?”

Claire’s eyes burned, and she thrust her hands into Himari’s. The warm hands cradled her bruised ones lightly. Himari rubbed the wrists fleetingly.

“Does it hurt?”

“Just numb,” Claire quietly replied. Her throat was closing up on her, and she clenched her jaw.

“How about now?”

Claire shook her head.

Himari moved fingers lower. As soon as she touched the spacing between Claire’s pointer and middle finger, Claire cried out.

Hot, searing pain flashed through her hands. Claire yanked her hands back. She cradled them close to her.

Himari breathed out sharply. She groped the white lab coat she had on for a few moments. She pulled out a basic tube and uncapped it.

“This will help with the pain,” Himari carefully pulled Claire’s hands out in front of her again. “They managed to heal your wrists and shoulder. But the muscles in your fingers are more delicate. So they had to leave them to heal naturally.”

The brown paste was slathered against her hands. Himari wrapped her left hand up with new bandages. Another bandage went over her elbow, to protect it from unnecessary jostling.

Claire’s right hand was a bit trickier. Angry red bruising was splattered all over her hand. Her knuckles held the brunt of the bruising from where she had wrapped the belt to hold on. A purple bruise ran down her wrist, ending by an ugly white scar on her forearm.

Himari smiled politely at Claire just as she tucked in the bandaging on her right arm.

“Better?”

Claire nodded, her eyes still moist.

“Now, how about that nap?”

Himari carefully pulled Claire straight and lead her out of the room and onto a cot. Claire’s heavy eyes shut as soon as her head hit the sheets.

Her lower body curled up to her chest. A thin sheet was laid over her and within seconds, she was out like a light.

Claire wiped away at the bookshelf. The cloth she used was now heavy and full of sand. She shook it, letting the sand fall on the floor. Her body returned to the shelf as she cleared away weeks’ worth of sand and dust.

Little by little, she made progress and restacked the packed items in order. Claire picked up the broom once everything was put back in place.

The brick floor was hard to clean as the sand fell into tiny grooves or dents on the floor. The round broom, which resembled a witches’ broom, was more helpful than the flat broom which was beginning to leave scratch marks behind.

Claire wiped away the sweaty fingers on a towel. She herded the dirt out the back door and locked it shut.

“Watanabe-san?”

She looked around the reception room and her heart jumped in her throat when he appeared from behind the counter.

“Watanabe-san, do you need help,” she asked even as she rushed over to help him stand up.

He waved her away once she had him leaning against the counter, “I dropped some papers. I was just picking them up. But thank you.”

“Do you want me to grab them?”

“No thank you, Yui-chan. I got them,” he placed the papers down. “So, finished already?”

Claire moved back.

“Yes, Watanabe-san.”

He pushed himself off the counter and together, they looked over the work Claire had done. He gave off hums at the clean shelves and the stacks of packages. As they moved past the brick stores, Claire picked at her bandages.

He came to a stop by the door and turned around to address Claire.

“It’s good. There are some spots that you missed but as it’s your first day, it’s alright.”

Claire nodded and thanked him for his feedback.

“Well, since you did everything, you’re free to go. But keep in mind what I told you.”

Claire bowed once again and left the shop. It was pretty early, with the sun far off in the east.

Claire didn’t know what else to do during her gap from one job to another. She could go back to the apartment and take a nap. But she couldn’t bear to stay inside that claustrophobic nightmare.

Claire ended up making a pit stop by the apartment to change her clothes into the grey scrubs before taking the route back to the clinic. As she entered the building, she noticed Takashi bandaging a blistered burn.

Claire rushed over to him to assist him. She grabbed the burn cream out of the cabinet and handed it to him. He smiled appreciatively at her.

“Please don’t let the bandages get dirty,” he informed the patient.

The elderly slowly got up, his fingers wrapped tightly around his cane. Claire manoeuvred over to his side to help him rise.

He nodded in thanks and Claire bowed to him as he left the clinic.

“You’re early,” Takashi noted.

“Watanabe-san let me off early,” she shrugged. “And I don’t have anything else to do.”

Takashi nodded absentmindedly. He flipped a file open and pulled out a pen from his front pocket.

“How’re your hands?”

“Pretty good. I’ve made sure to reapply them in the morning and I put on some ointment Himari-san gave me.”

Takashi briefly looked over the file to her, “When did you apply the ointment?”

“Uh…at three forty.”

“I’ll check your injuries at mid-day then.”

Claire nodded and took the file he held out. She picked up a few extra items before making her way to the file-room.

She grabbed the broom and the dustpan from the corner she placed yesterday. She briefly smiled at Zen who was crushing something with the pestle. His eyes glanced up and paused.

“Can you pass me the empty bottles?”

Claire peered at the mortar as she did so. A thick, chunky paste resided inside it. He didn’t offer any explanation and so she didn’t push for it. It was her second day in Suna after all.

Claire gathered up her hair, tied it in a bun, and began the day’s work.

Chapter Text

Not for the first time, Claire stood by the side of the ring and watched the adults bicker like children.

“We mentioned non-toxic scorpions,” the judge said.

“He’s non-toxic! This is just the Blind Bandits crying foul!”

“The scorpion just stung the other scorpion in front of us! There’s no way he’s non-toxic,” the third person butted in.

The pale-skinned man snarled in retaliation.

“You wanna have a go?”

Zen steered Claire away from the disaster that could become catastrophic within a second.

His hand gripped her shoulder as he addressed the host, “We’re done here.”

“Yes, of course,” the host nodded frantically. “But are you sure you can’t look at the scorpions to settle this argument?”

Zen’s smile tightened and he shook his head.

“Oh, well,” the redhead handed Zen a stack of bills miserably. “Maybe we can call a vet.”

The duo walked out of the clearing they had gathered in.

“Why didn’t you look after the scorpion,” Claire looked at Zen.

His hand dropped off her shoulder and rather than answering, he split the bills. She accepted her amount and slipped it inside her sleeve’s pocket.

“We only look after the handlers. Never the animals they bring,” he said, “Once you prove cheating or foul play, the groups don’t take it nicely.”

Claire’s eyes dropped to his wooden prosthetic.

“That’s not from this,” he laughed. “But at least I’m alive with this. These groups can really fuck things up.”

Claire didn’t need to say anything else. She knew what kind of things mafia-like groups could cause. But why would Zen bring her to a dangerous place?

“We all end up here,” he answered to her silent question. “Best if I bring you and show you the ropes rather than you coming here all naïve like and making a rookie mistake.”

Her gaze dropped to the floor. They silently walked back to the clinic.

“Did you set up your bank account yet?”

Claire stopped.

“Bank account?”

“If you need any help, Himari-san or Daichi can set it up for you,” he waved away. “But be sure to keep safe in the meantime.”

He walked away and Claire could only watch him do so.

She wondered if she could just ask him for more information. But as she raised her hand and opened her mouth to call out, an unsettling feeling fell over her. A chill went down her back and she dropped that hand.

Claire stiffly walked back to her apartment wondering if this feeling was just her being paranoid or if she was actually being watched.

-

Unsurprisingly, Claire woke up the next day with an agenda on her mind. She had made an outline of everything she wanted to accomplish the night before as she lay on the floor, waiting for sleep to take her.

As Claire ate her breakfast, which consisted of the pads from the Prickly Pear Cactus (a surprising staple that was highly available in all the stalls), she counted all of her money. It wasn’t much. Barely enough to get her a thin blanket, let alone a sheet for the floor. With a sigh, Claire sectioned the money apart, hid some money behind the old clock above the door and crammed the rest behind the belt loops of her pant-pyjamas.

The next hour was as dull as the knife left behind in the kitchen. Claire fixed her hair, grabbed her keys, locked the door behind her as she left and took a quick route to work.

As Claire arrived on the street of her job, she noted a loud argument coming from the building opposite to the shop. She slowed her pace, listening attentively to the fight. A few muddled words were caught but the rest was lost.

Claire slowed down even more, almost stopping in her tracks. But after some high pitched shrieking, a door slammed shut and the argument came to a close.

Her lips pressed down. A week had gone by and she was no closer to figuring things out than the day she came. Just like that, her mood went from doing okay to not doing okay.

She kept quiet as she entered the shop. Whispers of the toughness of the war were all that she had managed to gather. She needed more information but it was all kept under lock and key by the shinobi.

“Yui-chan,” Izumi stepped out of the backroom with two packages in hand. “Bring the rest of the packages to be delivered out front.”

Claire nodded, pushing her exhausting thoughts out of mind. She rolled up her sleeves while Izumi took out the clipboard and signed their name on the sheet of paper.

Claire did as they asked; she brought out a delicately wrapped box and three oddly shaped ones. While they were ruffling through the cupboards for the rest of the papers, Claire grabbed the broom and began sweeping.

Despite her cleaning it religiously past week, the flooring was once again buried under heaps of sand.

Perhaps a faulty window or the crack under the door let it sweep through. Claire took extra care to shut the window properly before going on with her work. The floor was swept, the surfaces wiped down with a rag and the new parcel placed on the shelf.

Claire cleaned the broom, giving it a shake outside the backdoor. Once done cleaning the supplies, she re-entered the shop and noted how Izumi may have come back while she was lost in the repetitive motion of cleaning.

“Yui-chan? Are you done already,” Watanabe-san asked.

Claire nodded silently.

“You’re getting faster,” he smiled as he checked the quality of her work. “Did my son get on with the deliveries?”

“Yes Watanabe-san,” Claire wiped her hand on her black pyjama pants.

“Aish, that boy. He…They are so lazy,” Watanabe whispered conspiracly. “It’s only been two days and he…they told me it was too much work. Ha! At their age, I used to manage the store and deliver the packages.”

Claire smiled politely, but she felt miserable inside. He sounded so much like her late mother that Claire wanted to curl up in bed and weep.

But she couldn’t. Because, one, she didn’t have a bed to do it. And two, she couldn’t waste time getting caught up in her emotions.

Watanabe-san muttered Izumi’s annoyances to himself before he realized he was keeping Claire.

“I’ll see you tomorrow eh, Yui-chan.”

Claire bowed, her mouth tasting like ash and took her leave. It was nice, having the chance to leave as soon as she finished her work, but the faster she got, the worse her thoughts got.

Claire had peaked at the clock as she was leaving, so she knew that she had enough time to go to the new job. Wandering the streets of Suna, Claire tried to recall the location. Where had the place disappeared off to? The sandy breeze forced all the buildings to take the similar external look.

Quite slowly, a trickle of people started to roll out the houses and onto the streets. Claire watched them out of the corner of her eye, highly aware of the way their stressed foreheads and frowns seemed to be imprinted on their face.

Claire slowed down, before walking over to the side so she could stay out of anyone’s way. Her feet seemed to have realized the path because before she knew it, she was entering a shop she could remember the interior of.

“You’re late,” the person on the counter said with a thin smile.

“I’m sorry, I got lost,” Claire jammed her thumb over her shoulder and at the door.

“Follow me,” she said cooly.

Claire shut her eyes briefly. The ground underneath her swayed, akin to jello and she let out an open mouthed breath, her eyes watering slightly with sorrow.

Just a little longer.

“The animals need to be brushed and fed. Everything expelled should be shovelled and taken over to the greenhouses. Failure to do this on time means you lose your job. We’re too busy to take care of a newbie, so stick to the schedule and we won’t have an issue.”

“I’m sorry?”

The female looked like she smelled something foul but she waited for Claire to continue.

“I thought I…,” Claire stopped herself. She needed the job, even if it wasn’t the one she thought she was signing up for initially. “It’s nothing. Sorry.”

The female just rose a judgemental eyebrow and looked over Claire.

“I see.”

Claire placed her hands behind her back and toyed with the bandages over her hand. A brief moment later, she pulled at her thumb. She needed to hold her tongue.

“The supplies are all lined up against the wall. Meet me once you’re done.”

Claire pressed down on her thumb with more force (a jolt of pain raced up her elbow), “Where exactly is the greenhouse?”

The receptionist jutted her prominent chin to the side. Claire followed the line of sight till she noticed a building in the far end. Claire swallowed roughly and nodded. She could do this.

It would just take a while to get used to the extra exertion. But it was no problem…Right?

Claire belatedly noticed that the person in front of her was staring at her in annoyance. Ah! Right. She had to get to work.

Claire’s body stuttered as her mind shut down briefly. She hadn’t been told about where to go. But Claire forced her body to move. She tilted her head up slightly, taking in the dusty, dry air. There was a hint of a dank, gassy smell layered underneath.

Claire stumbled forward with her nose as her only guide. Behind her, she heard her companion re-enter the shop.

It was quite a surprise when she literally fell onto the walls of the so-called farm she had to clean up. The dried clay walls felt cool to the exposed fingertips of Claire’s hands as she pushed herself off from them.

She squinted and slinked about, trying to find the door. She gently slammed her open hand on the wall, trying to find a way in. About several smacks later, she stumbled inwards when the ‘wall’ turned out to be a door.

Sam toppled inside, the wind outside starting to roar with a sandstorm. She blinked rapidly, trying to get the gritty sand out of her eyes. When it did nothing to help her, she pushed past the pain and tried to focus on her surroundings.

The room she had entered was well-cleaned but smelled of heavy manure. There was a set of rubber boots next to some sort of screen. Claire stumbled forward and stroked it. It was a metallic door made of mesh. But for some reason, no sand particle entered the room.

Claire frowned. And then kept on frowning.

Questions of how this was possible, why this technology wasn’t spread throughout Suna and why it was in this particular building, began to run through her head. For the first time since she came here, there was something so ordinarily up her alley that she could find interesting.

Her chest constricted painfully and she let out a breath of air. Of course, she would find it intriguing but wouldn’t be able to work it out. It just wasn’t possible in the limited time frame.

With a mental promise to figure out this alien (to her) technology, she turned her attention back to the room she was in. Other than the rubber boots, there was also a cupboard made out of clay from the wall. Claire walked over and gently opened it.

Those were the items the unnamed woman had mentioned.

She shifted through the equipment and weighed each one in her hands.

With a sigh, she picked the bucket and shovel and made her way out.

The dust had settled down a little during her time, but there was still a bit of an ongoing breeze.

Claire lifted her shirt and covered her nose with it. The smell of manure was even greater once she entered the main area.

As she stood at the entrance of the area, she noted a long, narrow passage at a distance ahead of her sealed with a lock. Behind the simple gate, glowing symbols ran the entirety of the floor as well as the walls. A quick glance at the roof showed that it was no exception.

Contrastingly, on either side of her were three pens. A total of six pens were in front of her. Each pen had metal walls whose height reached up till Claire’s chin. The rest of the space was enclosed by another metallic mesh. Claire ran her fingers through one, only to pause and wonder quietly to herself. There was a difference in the texture and while the other mesh was heavily concentrated with lines, this mesh had many more holes; it was less covered in lines.

Claire hummed and plunged a finger inside the hole before leaping backwards with a loud yelp. She cradled her finger with the stinging feeling of a shock passing through her body. This time, that short-term pain from her thumb turned into a constant throbbing.

With a fearful look inside the pens, she slid open the latch on the gate of the pen. Claire stiffly moved in before closing the door behind her. There was another latch at the top of the door, but she was too short to reach it, so she made sure the door was properly shut before she ventured in.

The pen was quite spacious but seemed to be filled with faeces. Claire gagged and moved inwards. In the corner of the room, the animals responsible for the mess were sitting down and gnawing at some long, pale grass.

She shot the camels a heated look, as though she could make them understand how disappointed she was in them making a mess of the place.

One camel looked up from his place and lazily blew her a raspberry.

Claire huffed and her grip of the shovel tightened. Her nose crinkled as she started to shovel the circular dung into the bucket. Her recent round of dumping them had her hear a squishing sound. The sound of wet smacking against wet had her gag, which led to her smelling the 'fragrance' in more intensity, causing her to retch in return and the cycle continued.

Once she got her gaging in control, she turned away to continue the work. Urgh, she couldn’t believe this. How desperate had she become for money that she had to literally shovel shit for it?

She took extra care to not dirty her bandages. But even then, she felt as though it was useless. Her bandages, regardless of her attentive care, were still becoming dirty from the environment around her.

With a dismayed heart, Claire picked up the bucket that had become close to overflowing and carried it out of the pen.

The woman had mentioned that she needed the dung placed in the greenhouse. Claire could do that, she thought as she carried it out of the building and towards the greenhouse. But mid-way, she staggered to a stop. Her arms were burning ferociously and her back felt like someone had run her over with a car. She focused on her arms, to keep her mind away from her hands. The throbbing was gradually turning into a steady burn.

She panted and pushed forward, there was no way the animals would shit everyday this much, and they probably didn’t have anyone wanting to do this which is why the shit had accumulated. Claire just needed to pull through today. The next day wouldn’t be as rough.

She sent a silent prayer of gratitude when she managed to trudge the bucket with her to the greenhouse. This building, unlike the other, was not empty. She knocked on the glass door and watched an attractive man’s head shoot up from his position knelt by the floor.

He brushed away the dirt from his forest-green suspenders after he stood up. He swung the door open and Claire felt humiliated as she stood in front of the man, smelling ferociously of dung with a bucket of it next to her.

Had she been tricked? Was this some sort of prank?

There was no way this specimen needed the dung. And when she miserably opened her mouth to apologize, the man’s eyes shot open in happiness and he let out a high pitched giggle.

“Oh! Is that from the farmhouse?”

Claire nodded hesitantly, but the man seemed even more excited, this time, he even shot her a gummy smile.

“I was wondering when I would get the delivery! It’s so sad that the last person quit, but thank you so much for delivering at an early time,” he gave a little bow, and Claire scrambled to return the bow. But she lost her balance and her bow seemed to look deeper than she intended.

Her neck flushed and she simply thrust the bucket towards the guy. He took the bucket with much more enthusiasm than that could come from anyone who would be handled a bucket full of shit.

He carried it to the far end and tipped the contents in a large metallic rectangular container.

She snatched the bucket from his hands and rushed away from the area. Who told that guy to look so pretty but behave so weirdly excited about dung?

She thought back to that beautiful smile and her heart tempo quickened.

Nope, she wasn’t going to do this. Claire shook her head and she picked up her pace. She was just going to keep shovelling all of the shit and would rush out of the greenhouse as soon as the bucket was handed to her.

But as she finished picking all of the camel dung, her cheeks reddened at the thought of the nameless man. How dare he look so pretty examining plants and smiling over dung?

She sighed and wiped away the sweat from her forehead with the back of her arm.

She still had five more to go and it was like she was already at her wit's end. But she wasn’t going to give up, not when she needed to get everything she could get.

Pushing herself to move, Claire continued to deliver the buckets of dung to the greenhouse. Once the camel pen was cleaned, she entered the next pen, which was filled with a herd of sleeping bison. She flinched, remembering how her sister had once been run over by a bison – granted she had provoked the animal first, but it had ended with her elder sister needing to replace her knee joint.

She had learnt her lesson pretty quickly, but that didn’t stop the fear from being transferred into Claire.

Claire moved quickly in the pen, her feet stuttering over the rough textured floor. She huffed and puffed all her way to the greenhouse once again. This time, when the door swung open, she was invited inside.

“Thank you,” she bowed before she stepped inside. It was instantaneous, how quickly she felt the difference in the air temperature and humidity.

“It’s amazing isn’t it,” the words had her jump in fright. She was so busy marvelling at the way the greenhouse was set, that she had forgotten the other person.

“How…how is this possible? And is that coffee?”

He laughed in response, the bucket gently placed on the floor. He pressed the button to keep the soil rotating with the blades before he practically glided over to where she was pointing.

“Yeah, that’s our little coffee shrub. But we’re growing the bigger plants in the back where there’s more space,” he placed a hand over the leaves. “We keep them growing with different seals to help handle the perfect humidity and temperature they would need.”

Claire could only nod dazedly. She shut her open mouth with a click, and she turned red.

“Oh,” she said after a moment. And two belated moments later, she jolted and rushed into a deep bow, “I didn’t introduce myself. Sorry. I’m Sato Yui.”

She got a bow in return that her flush even deeper.

“Nice to meet you, Yui-chan. I’m Tanaka Mamoru,” he smiled at her.

Claire fumbled, “Nice to meet you Tanaka-san.”

“Oh, no! You can call me Mamoru,” he insisted with a bashful smile. “You’re already helping with the chores, so no need to be so formal.”

“Mamoru-san,” Claire said. “Thank you for letting me come in, but I should be going. There are still four more pens to clean out.”

“Ah! I’m sorry for keeping you,” he pulled himself into a bow which Claire rushed to copy.

She kept bowing until she got out of the greenhouse. On her way back, she thought back to the enthusiasm shown to her and she couldn’t help but draw parallels to Fiona. Mamoru’s smile was on par with the smile Fiona would grace her when she was in her own element.

Her throat seized. It was like something slammed into her chest. It had been a week, and here she was, literal hours after telling herself that she needed more information, getting distracted with a happy person.

A little voice pushed through her bleak thoughts. Mamoru was the first person to seem happy in this gloomy place. It was natural that she’d focus on his happiness.

But Claire frowned. She couldn’t afford to let her attention be pulled away from the actual task.

Claire bit her cheek before making her way into the next pen. This was just a step on her journey; she couldn’t stop and get stuck when her end destination was getting further away from her with every passing minute.

-

Daichi, Himari and Takashi stood in front of the cot Claire sat on. Himari’s eyes flickered to Claire and back to Takashi. Daichi knelt down on one knee. He gently rubbed in the familiar brown paste onto Claire’s left hand. He took extra care when going over the indent in between her knuckles. The paste left a burning sensation, but the sensation was comforting as it began to leech out the throbbing pain.

“Can you bend your pointer Yui-chan,” Daichi delicately cupped her wrist.

Claire swallowed, nodded shakily and did as he asked. Something gave away in her knuckle and she tipped forward.

Daichi’s words got swept away as a low, keening sound surged through her ears. She saw Himari stagger to her. Himari wrapped her arms around Claire and she felt Himari wipe away her tears. Claire could have leaned forward and taken in the little reprieve from the pain, but it was as though she was frozen.

“The muscle is overworked,” Takashi frowned. He pulled a stool in front of Claire so he could examine the hand closely. “The muscle can’t support any movement.”

“We can RICE it?”

“The injury moved past that stage,” Takashi rebutted Himari’s suggestion. “RICE would prevent further deterioration, but it won’t bring back the muscle to its original functioning.”

Claire muffled her sob in her shoulder. All she had done was a little more work; how could it have affected her like this?

Himari ran her hands over Claire’s hair but took no action to shush her.

“With the left hand, the worst that’s going to happen is loss of fine motor skills if no immediate action is taken. But…but the right hand,” Takashi trailed off. He unwrapped the wraps Daichi did thirty minutes ago. “The infection’s been spread throughout.”

“Isn’t the antibiotic enough?”

Takashi’s eyes flickered up to Himari’s. Claire noticed the way Takashi’s mouth pinched around the corners. And she knew that he was going to try to lie. He wouldn’t tell Himari the real answer in front of Claire.

“Takashi-san, what’s wrong?”

Takashi paused as he tried to gather his words. Claire stared at him with wet eyes.

“Your muscles, they’re curving inwards. Although the antibiotics will fight off the infection, I have no precise understanding of what will keep the muscles from continuing this path.”

They all fell silent.

So this was to be her new reality then? To lose everything she could do? Without her hands, she couldn’t do anything. Her hands were the reason she was the best engineer in her class. They could disassemble anything and put it back together.

What would she do without them?

“We need a medical-nin,” Daichi spoke up.

“They deployed them to the front lines,” Zen slipped into the room. He nudged Takashi out of the way, sat on the stool and placed Claire’s right hand above his prosthetic one. “They say that there have been several attacks near our borders. Most of those caused by one of the Bijuus.”

Daichi’s body tensed and he pulled away, “My sister, she…they sent her to the border. She’s not a combat-nin. They…they must be safe right?”

Zen glanced at Daichi before looking down at Claire.

“The strategists are kept behind the line of attack. Unless she ventured out of that protection, she must be safe.”

Zen ran his flesh hand several inches above Claire’s. His frown deepened, his face seeming to age many years.

He paused. Then he took his prosthetic hand out from under Claire’s hand and clapped his hands soundlessly. He pulled both hands back steadily, but each hand trembled ever so slightly, like they had been stuck together with glue. (It reminded Claire of that anime she had once watched. The one with the bodiless brother…what had its name been again? Alchemist? No…Fullmetal Alchemist!)  On the surface of both hands, green lit up.

Claire let out a meek meep but didn’t flinch away when Zen began to circle both his hands over her injured one. He gasped lowly and his hands flickered off.

He shot Claire a worried look.

“Yui-san. Do you remember the accident that led to your coming here?”

Claire opened her mouth. She knew a version of it that she couldn’t tell. She shook her head hesitantly.

“What is it?”

“Your chakra’s balance is thrown off. Something is blocking your coils in your upper limbs.”

“What?”

“Your coils are pulling in chakra from your muscles in an attempt to work. But that’s deforming your muscles and killing them.”

“If it keeps pulling at them, Rhabdomyolysis can occur,” Takashi whispered in horror. “We don’t have the treatment available. Konoha used to trade us the main components we’d put in the IV fluids to flush out the toxins.”

“And there’s no way we can get it with the war going on,” Zen replied grimly. “I’ll work on making a paste to neutralize the toxins. But it can only be applied once the infection is gone. They may have a reaction if come in contact with one another.”

He got up fluidly and made his way to the door. Claire couldn’t muffle the next sob and Zen halted in his tracks.

“Yui-chan. Do not worry. I won’t let anything happen to you. Now that we have found out what’s wrong, we’ll make sure your hands can be used normally.”

Claire nodded but it felt brittle.

Daichi wrapped his arm around Claire’s shoulder and squeezed it comfortingly.

“Don’t let the diagnostics keep you from your schedule. I’ll fix you,” Zen promised, before he continued his stride out of the room. She couldn’t dare hope after what she heard. But Zen’s conviction pushed away her measly doubts.

If there was anyone who could help her, it was the group around her.

Himari, on Claire’s other side, lifted her head and stared at Daichi. Daichi nodded after a moment from their silent stare.

Claire sniffed and waited as Himari started to bind both hands.

“Hey, Yui-chan? How about we take a break,” Daichi proposed with a boyish grin.

Claire swallowed the ball in her throat roughly and shook her head.

“There are still some people I need to help.”

“Oh. Alright, but then we rest?”

Claire nodded tiredly but got up.

This job didn’t require that physical labour that much in the sense that she wouldn’t be using her hands much. It was just running around and directing people.

She could do that.

Claire stood in the doorway and swayed lightly. She blinked rapidly to get rid of her tears. She wasn’t going to let a little injury stand in her way. Not when she was working so hard.

Chapter Text

Claire exited the bank alongside Himari. 

“I can’t believe you carried so much money on you,” Himari told Claire again for what felt like the 100th time. 

Claire simply grimaced, “I’m kinda surprised that it didn’t fall out while I was working.”

Himari shot Claire a scandalized look.

“I know, I know. I won’t do it again.”

“You better not Yui-chan. You don’t understand how many robberies happen here. Especially in broad daylight.”

“Huh, you’re right. I kinda forgot to factor in the whole living in a ninja village.”

Himari laughed without mirth and they stopped at the end of the block.

“I’m heading east,” she said, “Do you want me to walk you back home?”

“I’ll be fine,” Claire bowed to Himari.

Himari nodded slowly, “But in case you need me, go to the Miracle Company and ask for me. I’ll be there.”

Claire bowed again and with a sigh, Himari started to make her way to her place.

Claire stood in her place for a moment. 

The night was still. The winds had settled into something low and directionless, with the lanterns along the upper wall of the street burning without swaying. Aside herself, there were very few people still up. A few of them walked towards the far end of the block while a man sat seated outside a sealed shop, eating something from a folded cloth. He didn’t look up even as Claire’s eyes scanned over him.

Claire forced herself out of the stupor. 

People here are very good at not looking at things. 

It sounded weird to think it out into existence. But it was the truth. It was as though the mass had learnt that paying attention to the wrong thing at the wrong moment had a cost. In a ninja village, it wasn’t something you’d expect. But the people left in the village were not Shinobis, only civilians. 

I wonder what it looks like when they do look. 

She turned back to the direction of the Clinic and hummed to herself silently.

This hour, the lower district was not empty but nearly so. Suna at this time had a particular quality she had started to recognize. It was an encompassing suspense. As though the city had not yet decided what the next day was going to require of it.

She looked up.

The sky was enormous here. That was something she had not adjusted to. The desert flattened the horizon in every direction and the stars sat close and numerous and navigable-looking in a way that had briefly tricked her into trying to navigate them. She had gone over every constellation she knew the first few days. She had mapped them against the floor of her apartment, while she lay there resting. She had found nothing she recognized.

She didn't look for the North Star any longer. She was getting used to the idea that it wasn't there. There was no need to add salt onto the wound. 

The clinic’s pale exterior came into view with its shuttered windows and cracked paint. A shadow crossed the light beneath the door before the front entrance opened. Zen was already coming out. 

“We shouldn’t overwork your muscles,” Zen frowned as he exited the clinic. 

“It’s fine,” Claire said, falling into step beside him. 

“Are you the doctor, or am I?”

You are. Clearly. I just wanted to see if you'd let me get away with it. 

“I…I won’t be able to sleep anyways. The best option is to keep moving as long as I can.”

Zen’s pace faltered as her honest words hit his ears. He slowed down but didn’t completely stop. His hand ran through his hair, pushing it back. His long strands slid away from the center of his face and ended up framing his eyes.

“If you don’t take me, I’ll just go myself,” Claire pushed.

Zen breathed out heavily through his nose and looked up at the sky. 

“Fine,” he barked without any bite behind it. “But the moment your hand even so much as itches more than normal, you tell me. I don’t care what is going on, you disturb me and tell me right away.”

Claire gave him a tight-lipped grin. It should have been a win, but she still felt the aches in her shoulder blades from where she lifted the buckets.

“Deal.”

Zen walked towards the infamous scorpion rings in silence. Claire followed him in silence. It was comforting. The dead-silence after hours of working in such a loud environment. But after a while of the only sound being the shifting of the sand, Claire couldn’t handle it anymore. 

She started to fidget and play with the sleeves of her shirt. Moments later, she began to drag her feet on the floor. 

Why did the rings seem so far away this time?

Claire huffed and glanced at Zen who kept walking forward with purpose. To think of it, how did Zen know the information about the front-lines? And what on earth was that bijuu he was talking about? Was it a tank? Would that mean that this world’s technology wasn’t as underdeveloped as she thought it was?

But if they had tanks, then they should, by virtue, have begun work on cars. But nothing indicated that.

Claire picked up her pace so that she was walking side-by-side with him.

“What?”

Claire smiled innocently, “What do you mean what?”

“I’m not an infant Yui-chan. I can tell when someone is staring at me.”

“I wasn’t staring. Was I? Huh, I didn’t realize I-.”

“Just tell me what’s bothering you. Before I change my mind about letting you tag along.”

Claire paused. Then she hesitantly opened her mouth, as they turned around the corner to the rings.

“How…how’d you know about the…the border issue?”

Zen stopped in his tracks this time. His turquoise eyes shut and he shook his head.

“I forgot you weren’t there when I first started working,” he paused with a pained smile. “I was a medic-nin. But some Iwa nin attacked my posting. I lost my hand, and ended up getting sent home.”

Claire felt phantom hands run up her back. It was as though she had been dunked into ice cold water.

“I’m so sorry,” she began. But Zen cut her off before she could go on.

“I’m privy to the information related to the medical side in the war because I work for the council on Tuesday and Thursday mornings. I tell them about the status within the village, and they grace me with some details of whatever’s happening outside.”

Claire swallowed and nodded.

“I had checked you out when you began working at the Clinic. So I already knew about the accident. But we didn’t realize the incident would be more than simply getting in the crosshairs of the war.”

“Is it?”

Zen stilled, “Wasn’t it?”

“I just…” Claire huffed to herself. “I remember that I had issues with my hands already.”

“What was it?”

“Um,” Claire paused. What if the name was different here? “The doctor called it Carpel tunnel syndrome.”

The entrance to the rings appeared between two buildings, invisible until you knew to look. Zen pulled the lever behind the cluster of rocks and the ground let out its low, mechanical groan. The stairs descended. 

“This matter is different from your nerves. Once your chakra pathways are involved, all other issues are caused as a direct consequence. It’s also why it’s such a big problem. The faster we act, the quicker the chance of reducing any permanent damage.”

Claire bit her lip.

Zen turned around to see Claire still standing on the entrance.

“Yui-chan. I promised you that I’ll fix you. And I always deliver.”

Claire fiddled with her nails. After a moment, she nodded.

“Yeah. Okay,” she carefully stepped onto the stairs. “Sorry.”

“No need to apologize,” Zen smiled down at her. But Claire looked away. There was still the undeniable fear of everything going sideways.

In her peripheral, she saw him hold out a hand. She glanced at his hand before looking at his face.

He gave her a reassuring smile. Claire hesitated and bit the inside of her cheek. Before she lost her nerve, she slipped her bandaged hand in his.

The action, though she wouldn’t admit it, kept her fears away for the rest of their duty. 

Hours later, Claire exited the area with Zen at her side. 

“Yui-chan,” Zen’s friendly address was accompanied with a serious tone to his voice. “We should take a couple of days off from coming back here.”

Claire swallowed down the lump in her throat and nodded her head shakily. The attack inside was more violent than all the times she went before. Something was coming, and it was causing everyone to get on edge.

With a comforting pat on her shoulder, he walked away.

Claire coughed weakly and rubbed her eyes roughly. The violent fight had led to several fires. The smoke irritated her sensitive eyes and made tingly. Her immediate concern was the worry of having red eyes tomorrow for work. 

The sand under her shoes felt gritty as she walked up to her apartment building. 

She sat on the floor, unwrapped her right hand, and examined her palm. The bruising had shifted colour. 

That's either progress or something worse.

She rewrapped it, lay down, looked at the ceiling until her eyes stopped stinging.

-

Claire stood behind Izumi as the shinobi talked to Watanabe-san. He glanced at the duo and frowned slightly. Claire startled when she felt a breeze to her side, indicating another shinobi appearing at the shop.

This shinobi slid up to the partner and they exchanged a piece of paper between them. Claire didn’t have any time to look at the size of the paper, let alone read what was written on it before it was folded and placed in the wider shinobi’s breast pocket.

“Yui-chan,” Watanabe-san looked at her. “Why don’t you go and grab the next set of delivery packages from the back with Izumi.”

Something felt odd, with a tenseness in the air that is stifling. She wants to stay. Watanabe-san had been a consistent figure in her new reality and she cannot fathom another break in something that brought her stability. 

Yet, she can feel the terror seizing her by the bones. These individuals are shinobi. Shinobi. Trained killers who look at nothing, stop at nothing, if they need to complete a mission. 

Like blood hounds, they would stop at nothing, a lump settled painfully in her throat. It threatened her ability to breathe normally. I’d be a paper ripped apart. 

Her eyes glance up at Watanabe-san, Are you sure? Are you sure you want us to leave?

He looked back at her and tilted his head to the side, imploring her to go. And she does. 

The back room smelled of old rope and cedar. The smell feels more familiar and the invisible pressure eases up. It's not completely gone, but nearly so. In the world of eat or be eaten, she has only herself to rely on.

Which sucks. 

Claire sat herself on the edge of a low crate and watched Izumi flip through the clipboard with the casual efficiency of someone who had learned not to notice things that were not their business. She had begun to understand that this was a skill unto itself in Suna. Possibly the most practiced one.

It must have become second nature to look the other side when shinobi are concerned.

Yet the atmosphere felt heavy. Izumi held out the clipboard to Claire and she leaped up to grab it. 

His jaw was set. 

There it was. 

She recognized the expression not because she had seen it on Izumi specifically but because she understood it. It was the expression of someone who had identified something they couldn't afford to say out loud and were in the active, effortful process of not saying it.

She glanced down on the clipboard,

"The top three on the left are ready," she said.

Coward, she thought to herself. You know the feeling, why don’t you say something. 

But self preservation is a strong thing so she closes her mind to that thought. 

Izumi looked at the clipboard properly this time. 

"Right." They said it flatly, not at her.

Their eyes moved in the methodical, sweeping way of someone doing inventory rather than truly looking. They didn't look at Claire.

The front went quiet.

Claire listened to the silence the way she used to listen to the building where she worked back home. She had learned early on that silence had its own vocabulary. The silence of a hallway after an important meeting was different from the silence of an empty floor at midnight, and both of those were different from the silence of a room where someone was choosing their words carefully.

This one was the third kind. Maybe it was too early to judge, but it felt like The General’s silence.

When Watanabe-san appeared at the doorway, his face had rearranged itself into its usual shape. The wrinkles around his eyes, the slight forward lean he always carried, the habit of patting the counter with two fingers before speaking. It was all correct. It was entirely correct, and that was the thing that sat wrongly in her chest.

He was performing himself.

"All clear," he told them. He patted the doorframe twice. "Come on out."

Izumi moved without ceremony and Claire followed. The front of the shop was empty. The door was shut, and through its narrow window, Claire caught the tail end of nothing. Whoever had been there was already gone.

She moved toward the shelf where the new parcels had been stacked. The light from outside came through the gaps in the window shutters in flat, sandy columns. She picked up the top package and turned it in her hands to read the address.

Watanabe-san had already moved behind the counter. He was writing something down, his posture rounded and slow.

She set the package back.

Stop looking. It’s none of your concern. 

She picked up the broom. 

The numbness she sunk back into was familiar but not comforting. 

When her shift was finally over, Izumi silently followed her towards the exit.

“Do you have a delivery in the same direction?” Claire questioned, her head tilting to the side. 

Izumi nodded, their set jaw still present. The introduction of the furrowed eyebrows was new. 

But none of my concern. 

They walked in silence for the first block, which was their ordinary method of existing alongside one another. 

The second block passed.

Halfway through the third, Izumi spoke.

Claire's feet nearly stopped.

Is he-?

She looked at them. They were not looking at her. They were looking straight ahead with the same set jaw and furrowed brow they had been wearing since they walked through the back entrance of the shop that morning, and they said, without any particular inflection:

"You eating?"

Sorry?

She stared at the side of theri face for a moment that lasted slightly too long to be natural. Izumi still did not look at her.

"I-" she started.

Is this really happening?

"Yes," she said, after a pause that had gone on long enough to be embarrassing. "I eat."

Izumi made a sound through their nose that managed to communicate skepticism without committing to it.

"You look like you don't," they said, still to the street ahead.

Excuse me.

Claire closed her mouth. Opened it. Closed it again.

"I eat enough," she said.

"Mm."

The singular syllable was deeply unconvinced. She looked at them again. Their face bore that typical Izumi blank stare.

"I have a schedule," she said, which sounded better in her head than it did out loud.

"A schedule," Izumi repeated.

"A routine. For meals."

They didn’t need to know that the schedule was barely followed because she’d pass out at times from overwork.

Izumi finally looked at her. It was a brief look, a sideways one.

Then they looked forward again.

"You always stop there," they said.

Claire blinked. "Sorry?"

"The Home." Izumi jutted their chin toward the direction of the building, still without looking at her. "Every morning."

They noticed that.

She hadn't expected that. She hadn't expected any of this, frankly. The entire conversation still felt like something that was happening to a different person and she was simply standing nearby watching it unfold.

"I help with a few of the residents," she said, carefully. "Before my next shift."

Izumi made a sound.

"What?" she said.

"Nothing." A beat. "You're collecting old people."

Claire opened her mouth.

Closed it.

I'm sorry, what was that?

She looked at the side of their face. Izumi's expression had not changed in any meaningful way. They said it the way someone might note that the weather was unremarkable. Completely without malice. Completely without apparent awareness that it was, objectively, one of the stranger things anyone had said to her since she arrived in this universe.

"I'm not-" she started.

"Kenji-san. Fumiko-san." They said the names the way someone recites inventory. "Ichiro-san."

They know their names.

"You know who they are," she said, and she couldn't keep all of the surprise out of her voice.

"I deliver to that street," Izumi said, as though this explained everything, which she supposed it did.

They turned the corner. The Home appeared at the far end of the block, and sure enough, Kenji-san was already on his step. He raised a hand when he saw her. She raised hers back, and then immediately felt Izumi's sideways look return briefly before it withdrew.

"There's a stall," Izumi said, after a moment. "Two streets behind the shop. Opens at six. Rice and pickled plum." The strap of their delivery bag shifted on their shoulder. "It's cheap."

Oh.

She looked at them. They were already looking ahead, expression unchanged, as though they had simply reported a fact about road conditions and expected nothing further from it.

"Izumi-san," she said. 

They made the nose sound again. Izumi then turned around and raised their hand in a curt wave. Without waiting, they walked on. 

They know their names, she thought again.

Is it common knowledge, Izumi knowledge or knowledge from keeping an eye on me?

After a beat, she shook her head and let out a deep breath. 

Today was already weird, she thought to herself. Can’t add paranoia onto it. 

(Especially if you knew you would be watched for being an anomaly survivor and a non-citizen to boot). 

Kenji-san was watching her from his step with mild patience.

"Good morning, Kenji-san," she said, crossing the street.

"Morning, morning," he said, the way he always said it, as though saying it twice made it more certain.

She sat down on the step beside him. She had four minutes before she needed to head in.

She used all four of them.