My mother was ecstatic when we picked up the letter from the post office. For her, this solved all our problems, as if they had simply ceased to exist. The only obstacle in her brilliant plan was me. I never saw myself as a disobedient daughter, even though my mother loved to claim otherwise in her conversations with her friends.

I hid on the roof, the only place where I could escape the chatter. From there, I could see the city lights twinkling in the distance, while I tried to find an argument that would convince my mother. But, until that moment, all I had was a collection of honest opinions... and I doubted she would listen to any of them.

The irresistible aroma of roasting meat filled the air, announcing that dinner was coming. I knew I couldn't avoid her for long. With one last glance at the horizon, I turned away from the window and, without hesitation, jumped into my room.

My mother greeted me in the living room with an angry look on her face, but remained silent. My father lowered his glasses, gave me a brief look and, without saying anything, went back to reading the newspaper.

- But are you going to die if you fill in the form? - she said, unable to contain herself. - The Selection could be an incredible opportunity for you... for all of us.

I sighed deeply, feeling that filling in that form would be like signing my own sentence.

It was no secret that the rebels - the underground colonies that hated the Fire Country, our vast and relatively young territory - were stepping up their attacks on the palace, making them increasingly frequent and violent. We had already witnessed their actions in Konoha: Colonel Uchiha's house had been partially burned down, and vehicles belonging to members of Caste Two had been destroyed.

But apart from the threats, the thought of the Selector made my heart ache. Still, I couldn't help smiling as I remembered all the reasons for staying exactly where I was.

- “The last few years have been cruelling for your father,” my mother cooed, as my father closed the newspaper. - If you have the slightest bit of compassion, you'll think of him.

My father. Yes, I wanted to help him. And Pain, and Konan. Even my mother. But I couldn't smile at the way she explained the situation.

- Stop torturing the girl, Mebuki,” said my father, his voice hoarse and exhausted. He was tired of spending the day pruning the Yamanaka lords' plants and, at night, having to prune their ladies' fights.

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Our situation wasn't so desperate that we feared for our survival. We weren't miserable, but we weren't far off either.

Our caste was only four steps above rock bottom. We were farmers, and the gardeners, who occupied a slightly higher position, were still very close to the dirt. Literally. Our money was scarce, the house we lived in was a debt to the Yamanaka, and we lived at the mercy of a delicate balance. Our income depended directly on the changing seasons.

We couldn't plant when the snow was falling or when the sun was scorching the earth. There were only a few months between these extremes when planting was possible, and without these harvests, my family was totally at the mercy of the Yamanaka mansion, with our income halved.

My father dedicated himself to the estate's gardens, tending to everything with the zeal of a craftsman. Pain and Konan worked on our family plantation, making sure we had enough vegetables to sell at the market. My mother was housekeeper at the Yamanaka house, commanding the servants with the same rigidity as she treated us at home. And I looked after the horses, alongside Lee. Mr. Yamanaka had a collection of racehorses, fast as the wind and as expensive as the queen's jewels.

Moegi was still too young to carry a sack of manure or tame a stallion, but she was only seven. There was still time for that.

Soon, the leaves on the trees would begin to fall, and our little world would rock once again. Six mouths to feed and only five workers. Income would be halved for at least three months.

When I thought like that, the Selector became a rope I could hold onto. Maybe that stupid letter was the chance to get off the bottom, and then I could take my family with me.

I looked at my mother. Guy always said she was a beauty at my age, with straw-colored hair that reached down to her waist and emerald green eyes that made the boys crowd around my grandfather's door. Mebuki Haruno was getting chubbier with age, her hair cut to shoulder length and the lines of age marking her face. She was still beautiful, but with a tired, simple beauty.

Moegi was still too young to carry a sack of manure or control a stallion, but she was only seven. She still had time.

Soon, the leaves on the trees would begin to fall, and our little world would be shaken once again. Six mouths and only five workers. Income would halve for at least three months.

When I saw it like that, the Selector seemed like the only rope I could hang on to. That stupid letter could be my chance to get off the bottom and maybe, with luck, take my family with me.

I watched my mother. Guy used to say that she was a beauty when she was my age, with her waist-length golden hair and emerald green eyes that made boys flock to my grandfather's door. Mebuki Haruno, however, had become a little chubby over time. Her hair was now cut to shoulder length, and around her eyes, the marks of age were visible. She was still beautiful, but a more tired, simpler beauty.

- Mebu, let's eat! - said my father, getting up from his chair, putting down his newspaper and walking over to the solid wood table. Konan appeared in the kitchen doorway, with Moegi by her side, licking her jam-smeared fingers. Pain was already sitting at the table and, seeing Konan approach, kissed her softly on the lips before she sat down next to him.

I watched Konan for a long time, unable to look away.