Warnings: It's my first FanFiction, so I have no idea where I'm going with this. And I don't have a Beta Reader, so there might be a few mistakes here and there. Also, I am not Japanese, so if I get something wrong, please tell me so I can correct it.
Disclaimer: I am not writing this for any kind of profit. Anything recognizable most likely either belongs to someone else or is completely coincidental. I do not own Naruto.
Author's Note: I personally do not believe that religion exists in the same form in the Naruto-verse. Therefore, while Miu's parents will perform some baby rituals like the oshichiya, they will not travel to a temple to see a priest or celebrate things like Miu's hatsumairi (First Buddhist Service).
Also, while I will provide Japanese translations for some things like Hayabusa's name or certain jutsu, I will not provide them for others that I feel any Naruto fan should know, such as the meaning of Sandaime Hokage.
Chapter Last Edited: Wednesday, May 21, 2014
.oOo.
EPISODE 1: THE BEGINNING
.oOo.
It happened on a Wednesday, just confirming my belief that Wednesdays were the worst days of any week.
The day had started out completely normal. I woke up, got ready for the day, and began the hour long drive to the Metropolitan Museum of Art where I worked as an archivist. I also worked as a linguist on the side, translating books for a small publishing company, though I was able to do that at home.
I absently tapped the steering wheel of my car with one hand as I stifled a yawn with the other, stopping my car at an intersection. I had never been much of a morning person. I grabbed a piece of gum from my purse, hoping that it would help me wake up a bit more.
The light turned from red to green, and I started my car. I don't remember what happened next very clearly, but something made me look out my window, and I saw another car about to crash into mine.
I froze, too shocked to do anything. When the car hit, I remembered a feeling of weightlessness, my body being jerked against my seat belt, and then... nothing.
Being in a coma was terrible. It was like being trapped in darkness, unable to move. Disjointed sounds and feelings constantly bombarded me with the occasional word slipping through. I was constantly in pain as well, so although I could think — the only reason I knew I was most likely in a coma since I remembered the car crash — it was incredibly hard to concentrate. I was mostly stuck in this constantly dazed state, the way you are right before you fall asleep.
Then, suddenly, it was like everything slowed. There was a moment where everything went completely still... and then everything sped up. Desperation coursed through me; something important was happening and I — !
It ended as quickly as it began. Everything remained the same, except that I was no longer in pain. I was just vaguely uncomfortable, like when you lean against something and your limb falls asleep, only this time something was pressed against my entire body. My discomfort was easy to ignore, though, since I didn't feel any pain anymore, just a soft warmth that surrounded me and made me feel both sleepy and at ease. It started outside, but gradually seemed to enter my body.
It felt like forever had passed when everything around me suddenly tightened, giving a single jolt. It was incredibly alarming at first, but it passed by and didn't return for some time, so I didn't give it any mind and easily dismissed it. But gradually, it came more and more often, and I began to get annoyed.
Then, it suddenly kept coming and coming with barely any time in-between. I felt like I was stuck in a small tube that was trying to force me out. Thinking of it like that, I could almost feel a hole near the top of my head that I was gradually being pushed out of.
Bright light blinded me. All of a sudden, I could hear people talking and moving about.
A sense of victory overwhelmed me. I had beaten the coma! But as I began testing myself, I realized I was far from fine.
Everything was disorienting and blurry. I could vaguely hear people around me, talking and moving, occasionally feeding or bathing me, but I couldn't move or do anything for myself. I was constantly tired and often spent my time sleeping. My thoughts remained disjointed and confused.
Looking back, trying to figure out what happened to me is mostly guesswork, but this is what I've managed to understand.
That car crash had sent me into a coma, but I had never woken up. That sudden moment when everything had stilled... that had been when I had died. And something important had happened to me immediately after, when it felt like everything had sped up.
I had been reborn. The darkness afterwards had been my time in my mother's womb, and those pushing, jolting feelings had been her contractions as she had given birth to me.
I hadn't realized it at first. After all, spending so much time in a coma, it could easily be explained why all my senses weren't exactly normal or functioning correctly (ex: head injury). But things had gradually cleared up, so after panicking for a bit, I hadn't really worried that much.
But when I was finally able to see, I knew I wasn't in some sort of hospital, because the first thing I saw was the large face of a giant woman smiling down at me.
Needless to say, I had screamed in terror.
.oOo.
It had taken a while to come to terms with the fact that I was now a newborn baby.
My motor control was still developing, so I couldn't do anything besides gurgle and occasionally flail around. My eyesight was still terrible, and my brain couldn't process most of what was going on around me. And, of course, the most humiliating of it all: I crapped my pants and wet myself several times a day.
But my humiliation also led me to connecting with my new parents.
I resented them at first. I didn't want strangers taking care of me. I didn't want strangers cooing at me like I was mentally retarded (though I sort of was at this stage of life). I hated the feeling of being completely helpless, and I happily took it out on them.
I admit that I was a terrible baby. If I could cause trouble for them, like crying for no reason in the middle of the night, then I did.
But it didn't last.
No matter what I did, no matter how troublesome I was, they always gave me a tired smile and continued to spoil me. I could cough up baby formula on them, and they would just sigh as they cleaned themselves up before smiling at me and telling me I was adorable.
Their love for me was unconditional. I could tell with every motion they made. And before I knew it, I loved them back. I stopped tormenting them and began doing everything I could to make them smile at me, even if it was just a simple giggle and a slight wave in their direction.
My new mother's name was Miyuki (深雪; deep snow). She had a delicate kind of beauty, warm and friendly, that easily set others at ease. She had white blonde hair that curled around her face in long, gentle waves that were as soft as they looked, and kind green eyes with golden flecks that sparkled in the sunlight. She cared for me the most, carrying me around as she did basic household chores and playing with me during the day. She was always singing or humming softly as well.
My new father's name was Hayabusa (はやぶさ; falcon). He was handsome as well, but it was much harsher, with his sharp features and tall frame. His hair was a mixture of bronze and rust that messily spiked out everywhere, and he had a smattering of slight stubble along his defined jaw. He had piercing golden eyes that reminded me of predatory birds, but they always softened whenever he saw Miyuki or me. His schedule seemed to have no set pattern; his absences could last for days or weeks and appeared intermittently among the time he spent with us.
There was also the fact that, as a linguist, it wasn't easy for me to realize when other people switched languages if I was proficient in them. Because, in the end, I understood what was going on and was familiar enough with the language that it didn't seem odd to be speaking it. Kind of like how it doesn't seem odd to breath unless you're gasping for breath or something; it was an unconscious habit unless something made me pay attention.
After the pure shock of realizing that I was a newborn baby, I realized that everyone around me spoke Japanese.
Being reborn in Japan didn't really faze me too much, though. After all, I understood the language, and even if I hadn't, I would have easily picked it up. Had I been reborn in North Korea or someplace similar, I would have definitely hyperventilated or something.
No, the truly terrifying thing about everyone speaking Japanese was what happened when I realized just exactly where I was.
It had happened during a normal evening (I suspect it was a Wednesday, though I can't be sure). My mother had been absently humming under her breath as she gently rocked me in her arms, making me feel both comforted and slightly nauseous at the same time. She was sprawled out on the couch in the living room, reading a book.
She must have noticed something that I didn't, as she suddenly stopped humming and turned towards the door with a large smile on her face. The door opened to reveal a haggard-looking Hayabusa, though his eyes softened when he saw us as they always did. He quickly strode toward us, Miyuki rising to greet him. He gently kissed her on the cheek before carefully taking me from her.
I grinned up at him. Both of my parents had been looking more and more stressed lately, so I couldn't help but try to stay as cheerful as possible for them on the outside while inwardly cursing everything as I wondered what was going on.
Something glinted out of the corner of my eye, somewhere near my father's upper arm. Curious, I craned my head to see what it was.
Dread filled me when I recognized it.
It was a hitai-ate with the symbol of Konoha imprinted on it.
I promptly fainted.
Holy fucking shit.
.oOo.
Everything made a lot more sense now that I knew Hayabusa was a shinobi. His weird absences, the way he moved so silently, the fact he spoke Japanese... But at the same time, I just couldn't wrap my head around it.
My new father was a trained killer. The same guy who changed my diapers and gently cradled my small form to his chest had used those same hands to kill others.
I knew that as a shinobi, Hayabusa was incredibly dangerous, but the knowledge was more like a vague fact I only half-remembered. I mean, I had seen him covered in the remnants of baby formula vomit before. That didn't exactly scream assassin.
So, while I knew that I was now the daughter of a shinobi, things didn't really change all that much.
I was still a helpless newborn, and my parents still loved me.
However, it did give me a lot to think about.
After that revelation, all I did was turn it around in my head.
My father was a shinobi. I had been reborn into Konoha.
Oh, shit.
This was terrible!
I couldn't help but remember everything bad that had happened to Konoha. The Kyuubi Attack, the Hyuuga Affair, the Uchiha Massacre, Pain's Attack, the whole situation with ROOT and Danzo... I couldn't stop the whimper that escaped me when I thought about it.
There had to be some mistake. I was probably the most un-heroic person ever, unlike my old parents.
In my former life, my father had been a diplomat with degrees in international relations and political science. My mother had been a surgeon before retiring to join the American Peace Corps. They had met in some foreign country, had a fling that produced me, and were about to get married when terrorists attacked the embassy my father was visiting and killed him. My mother had then returned to medicine to support us both.
Unlike them, I got degrees in linguistics and art history before moving to New York and living a completely average life. Action and adventure were not for me. I was a couch potato through and through.
And now, like any sane and reasonable person, I cringed away from the idea of putting myself in harm's way. I wasn't a masochist; I didn't like pain.
There was no way that I was going to somehow save everyone and make everything better. That went against my very personality. I was not hero material. Not to mention that I definitely didn't have the skills for it. Those people could do things that could kill you with a single touch! The most deadly thing I could do was drive a car, and those didn't even exist in Konoha! Plus, I drove like an old granny, so I wasn't exactly deadly, per se.
Sure, people would suffer and a lot of people would die, but it was just a manga! Those things always ended happily ever after. As long as I didn't interfere, everything would end up fine. Naruto would become Hokage, Sasuke would realize the error of his ways and repent, and Sakura would actually do something useful. All the dead would come back to life and peace would reign. The end.
No, I was not going to get involved.
And so, ignoring the feeling of guilt that began gnawing on my stomach, I accepted a spoonful of apple mush from Miyuki.
Besides, I was a baby. It wasn't like I could do much anyways.
.oOo.
A week after I was born, my oshichiya (1) was held. It was then that I finally learned my new name: Kawasemi (川蝉; kingfisher) Miu (美羽; beautiful feathers).
.oOo.
The development of a person's chakra system happens mostly inside the womb. That soft warmth that had surrounded me had actually been Miyuki's chakra system helping develop my own. When the warmth seemed to enter my body, it was my own system developing.
Because it was completely natural for my body to have chakra, the only thing that made having chakra strange was the fact that my conscious mind still didn't completely understand it. It recognized that it was a vital part of me, but at the same time, it didn't remember having anything like that before and didn't know what to really do with it.
Chakra is hard to describe. The only way I can describe it is almost like a mood ring. As the combination of spiritual and physical energies, it constantly reflects your state of being: whether you're happy or sad, sick or healthy, etc. Just being near a person could give me a headache depending on how they were doing.
As for its appearance... it looks like thousands of small threads of different colored lights that are constantly flowing around each other. Each color represents different kinds of energy or emotions. It continuously circulates around the body in a set pattern, warming everything up. It's a constant adrenaline rush.
Nature chakra is different. The closest I can compare it to is smoke. It hangs around everything, swirling lazily in intricate patterns for no discernable reason, the colors constantly twisting and writhing together. It's mesmerizing to watch, but being in it is like constantly being in a place with high humidity. It hangs around you and weighs you down, and it's easy to choke on if there's a sudden gust of wind.
The thing about being a newborn baby is that there isn't much to do. Because of this, I spent most of my time either thinking about my past life or trying to get a feel for my chakra. I didn't dare experiment with nature chakra. I doubted that turning myself into stone would qualify me for another chance at reincarnation.
While I was unable to truly manipulate my chakra, I was able to become gradually desensitized to its effects. I no longer got headaches when one of my parents was feeling exceptionally emotional, and I could even track both of them when they got within a certain distance from me. It also got a lot easier to ignore nature chakra.
I also began to get better at identifying their emotions. Looking back, that was probably another factor of why I grew so close to them so quickly, and how I knew that something was going on.
And something was going on. Hayabusa was gone longer and more often, worrying Miyuki, which I picked up through her chakra.
And it worried me, too. A lot.
There were no mentions of my new family that I remembered in Naruto. That meant that my parents had been nameless extras. That meant that my parents were expendable in the long run. That meant that at any second, my perfect world could come crashing down around me.
I did not want that to happen.
As a newborn baby, there was no pressure for me to do anything. I could sleep all day and not be considered a lazy slacker. There was no stress for me in this new life of mine. And it was completely awesome.
And while it would have been nice to be able to walk around and talk, I didn't want any of that to end.
But what could I possibly do?
.oOo.
100 days after I was born, my okuizomi (2) was prepared and served to me. I glared at my new parents the entire time. They were mocking me, I just knew it!
.oOo.
I soon developed a newfound hatred for hospitals.
In my last life, I had resented hospitals because my mother worked there as a surgeon. She was always gone, working long shifts to provide for the both of us and to send me to the top schools. I irrationally blamed the hospital for all the family issues that came after.
In this life, I hated hospitals simply because I hated being examined.
Newborn children are constantly in and out of the hospital. We visit a hospital more times during our first few years of life than any other time. That's because this is the time when we're the most vulnerable.
Most of the time, it was simple things like getting measured and weighed and vaccinated against whatever diseases were in this world. But being poked and prodded and carried around by unfamiliar people dressed in white was still traumatizing, not to mention embarrassing!
Yes, I had a newfound hatred for hospitals.
I silently swore to myself that I would be one of the healthiest children ever. The fact that I had no plans to become a shinobi, and therefore had a decreased risk of broken bones and similar injuries, definitely helped.
.oOo.
When I turned one year old, my Hatsu Tanjo (3) was held. I developed a newfound hatred for mochi that day. Those things were fucking heavy.
Afterwards, during my Erabitori (4), I simultaneously grabbed the dictionary and the writing brush. I knew that it probably didn't mean anything, but a part of me still hoped that it would, and that by grabbing both of them at the same time, I was somehow helping myself towards a better future.
.oOo.
I was finally able to manipulate my chakra. It took a lot of concentration, and it was like moving heavy liquid through my body. It moved slowly and sluggishly, but it moved.
I had no plans on becoming a shinobi, but I had no plans on being a normal civilian either.
Civilians were easy to kill. The amount of them that had died during the manga series was probably astronomical. That was why I needed to be able to defend myself.
Being able to manipulate chakra would definitely increase my chances of survival, even if it was something as simple as increasing my speed.
Chakra control was key. As a civilian, I would never develop large stores of chakra, which meant that I had to be able to utilize what I could to the maximum. Plus, I remembered Shippuden Sakura blowing up boulders, and that was just plain cool.
The only chakra control exercises I remembered from the manga were the leaf-sticking exercise, tree-walking, and water-walking. There was no way I could do the latter two the way I currently was, and strangely enough, Miyuki didn't like random leaves inside her clean house.
But the theory was basically all about sticking yourself and repelling yourself from different objects with chakra. So, I did it with basically everything else: my blanket, my clothes, etc.
Using chakra was even more exhausting than trying to learn how to walk. Mentally, I was exhausted from the sheer amount of concentration needed to push my chakra from one location to another, and then try to force it to do what I wanted from it. Physically, I was exhausted because chakra was like a constant adrenaline rush, and depleting my stores made me ready for naptime pretty quickly.
In the end, I finally realized what I was doing wrong. I was forcing the chakra to do what I wanted instead of working with my chakra to get what I wanted.
Chakra is not sentient. However, as a mixture of spiritual and physical energy, it's pretty close. Because chakra basically reflects who you are, it's no surprise that there are things it's more likely to do and things it won't.
When I realized that, a lot of things suddenly made sense.
For example, most of the Uchiha Clan, if not all of them, had an affinity for fire. Their personalities matched that element perfectly. They would storm and rage and burn everything in their path, but that was only as long as they had something to fuel them into continuing. As soon as their motivation or their reason was lost, so were they, similar to how a fire cannot do anything without something to burn.
I had suspicions about my own affinity, but I wouldn't be able to tell for sure until I got some chakra paper, which I was incredibly unlikely to get my hands on since I wasn't going to be a shinobi.
My chakra stores increased at a surprising rate. I suspected that it was because my father was a shinobi, giving me a predisposition to larger chakra stores, and because I was incredibly young when I started. The body is the most adaptable during its younger years, as everything is still growing, so my constant exercises were probably strengthening my chakra system more than normal children's (unless you were a member of a clan).
As chakra stores increased, it wasn't like your chakra system expanded. Instead, the chakra became more compressed. It looked the same at a cursory glance, but if you focused, normal civilian chakra was like a shallow pool of water that swirled around the body lazily while shinobi chakra felt like a bottomless ocean with powerful currents that sent me reeling back in shock.
My chakra stores were currently like a gentle river. Fluid and gentle, but with the potential to become more.
.oOo.
Consequences be damned, I was determined to finally walk and talk again. The problem was that while my mind was developed enough that I remembered exactly how my muscles needed to move, the muscles themselves didn't have the reflexes and muscle memory needed, not to mention they were unused to being moved in such a manner.
It was endlessly frustrating, and with a child's body, I often cried when I got frustrated. But I was making progress.
In the end, my first word was tori (鳥; bird). Hayabusa especially had been ecstatic, though I would learn the reason behind it much later.
To be honest, it was a complete coincidence.
It was a rare night when all three members of my new family were able to eat dinner together. My parents alternated between feeding themselves and feeding me as they quietly talked to each other.
Dinner was almost over when a small bird suddenly flew in from an open window. It landed on my father's shoulder and gently trilled a few notes before flying back out. I recognized it from the manga as some type of code for shinobi.
At the time, I was constantly trying to speak. But due to my poor coordination, it mostly came out as childish babble. But this time, it actually came out somewhat understandable.
And so, tori became my first word. Sure, it wasn't the stereotypical first word, but there were worse things I could have said.
Walking was a lot harder.
It was a shock when I tried to support myself for the first time and I realized just how weak this new body of mine was. For crying out loud, I was so weak I couldn't even support my own body! How pathetic was that?
Crawling around was a huge workout. In the beginning, I could only make it a few feet before collapsing where I was and falling fast asleep. Sure, I had never been very athletic before, but that was seriously pathetic.
I probably would have given up if it wasn't for the fact that every time I crawled, I managed to get just a little bit farther than before. My stamina was gradually increasing, and every time I noticed, victory swelled in my chest.
There was also the factor of balance as well. I was finally able to stand up, but I kept flailing and tipping over. It was infuriating! My head was just too big!
Miyuki was working in the kitchen when I finally walked for the first time. She was busy preparing lunch and had left me in the living room. She whirled around, looking concerned when I fell through the doorway with a small thump, but turned back when she saw that I wasn't about to burst into tears.
I don't know which one of us was more shocked when I managed to totter over to her before grabbing her legs to stay standing.
For the next few days, my parents were constantly asking me for demonstrations of my newfound ability. And while I was pretty proud of my accomplishment, it was still incredibly tiring. I could only manage a few steps every few hours before I finally succumbed to exhaustion and refused to move for the rest of the day.
But it was progress. And that was all that mattered.
.oOo.
My second birthday came and went. Hayabusa was never home anymore, only sending the occasional letter whenever he could.
.oOo.
Hayabusa returned home one day heavily injured.
A horrible mass of scars ran across the entire right side of his face, and an eyepatch covered his eye. Miyuki gasped and burst into tears when she saw it. I just stared at him in horror.
It was a huge wake-up call.
I may have been reborn in Konoha, and my father may have been a shinobi, but this was when I really realized how real my situation was.
Sure, I had known this before, but seeing my father's massacred face really drove it home.
This world was dangerous.
Everything previously had been like a dream. The horrors of this world were hidden behind Miyuki's soft smiles and the comforting walls of my new home. This was the first time that something had intruded into my perfect little world.
Terror gripped me.
Oh my gosh, I don't want to die, please tell me this is a dream, I don't want this to be real...
Hayabusa gently picked me up in his arms and buried his face into my hair. I desperately clutched him, burying my face into his clothes and breathing his scent, a mixture of sharp metal, sweat, soil, and blood.
.oOo.
Hayabusa's injury was a wake-up call for everyone.
Miyuki, who I suspected was a shinobi as well due to unnaturally quiet movements among other things, now seemed to take Hayabusa's former role. Now, she wore a Konoha hitai-ate around her neck and dressed in the standard Konoha flak jacket, vanishing intermittently for long periods of time. Then, she just seemed to disappear, the occasional letter home the only sign that she was still alive.
Hayabusa, however, took over Miyuki's former role and took care of me, feeding me and playing with me on a daily basis. It took me a while to realize that the games he played with me were actually disguised exercises designed to help me with things like memorization and coordination. I soon learned all the shinobi hand signs without even realizing it.
It was a shock when I realized that Hayabusa was grooming me to be a shinobi, but I wasn't going to protest.
Because, all though I didn't know what timeline I was in, I knew that this world was incredibly violent and dangerous. Even if Naruto hadn't been born yet, there were still three Great Shinobi Wars that had taken place before. And even if Naruto had been dead for a long time now, I had no doubt that some sort of conflict would spring up.
And if Naruto was currently around, young and kicking... yeah, I didn't like my odds. I was going to prepare for the worst, just in case.
I wouldn't become a shinobi. But knowing a few shinobi skills definitely wouldn't hurt.
.oOo.
Miyuki died right after I turned three years old.
Her body was missing. I don't know whether or not that was because they couldn't find it or because there was nothing left of it. We buried an empty, closed coffin instead.
The funeral was a small ceremony. Everyone wore the standard black mourning outfit, silent and grave. I clung to my father's clothes as he held me against his chest.
I remember thinking it strange that it wasn't raining. I felt like it should have been, especially since it always seemed to be raining whenever a character died in a manga. But maybe my mother just hadn't been important enough for the weather to go bad, because the sun was out and the sky was a beautiful clear blue with the occasional fluffy white cloud.
I didn't sob, though. I think I was in shock.
Several adults came up to my father and offered their condolences, but I didn't notice them. I was too stunned.
I suddenly broke away from my father and ran off. He didn't stop me.
I ended up in a small park, hidden behind a few bushes with my back against a tree. I finally began to cry, hugging my knees to my chest, shaking and shuddering.
Miyuki was dead. Gone forever.
It hurt.
She was my mother, and I loved her. Her death was wrong. It shouldn't have happened.
Why did she have to die?
I began to hyperventilate. I hadn't seen her for basically a year after Hayabusa was injured. What were my last words to her? What were her last words to me?
I screamed when I felt a hand come out of nowhere and gently rest on my shoulder. I peered up.
That was the first time I met the Sandaime Hokage, Sarutobi Hiruzen.
"May I sit down?" he asked.
I shrugged. "Not like I can stop you," I muttered.
He chuckled and sat down next to me, gently puffing on his pipe. His chakra was amazing. It was as thick as stone, a mess of color and light that I couldn't even begin trying to comprehend. I tried to subtly edge away from him, feeling overwhelmed. "What's your name?"
"...Kawasemi Miu," I grudgingly answered.
"Why were you crying all the way over here, Miu-chan?"
I sniffed, rubbing my eyes. "Kaa-san's dead."
He sighed, his chakra fluctuating. I could feel his regret. "Losing the ones we love hurts, true, but they're never gone forever."
I snorted. "Kaa-san's dead," I repeated. "She is gone."
"Only if you let her vanish," the Sandaime replied calmly. "Only if you let her fade away. As long as you remember her, she'll always be in your heart. And as long as she's there, she'll never truly leave you."
He patted me on the shoulder, stood up, and quietly walked away.
Hayabusa found me there sometime later, still sitting there and staring at where the Sandaime had once been.
Sure, what he told me was incredibly cliché and cheesy, but it did calm me down a bit.
It was only later that night, when I was lying in bed, that I realized just how important that meeting really was.
I had met the Sandaime Hokage. And judging from his looks, I had a pretty good estimate of where in the Naruto timeline I was.
It seemed like I would be meeting Uzumaki Naruto after all.
.oOo.
TO BE CONTINUED
.oOo.
(1) The Oshichiya is also known as the Baby Naming Ceremony. Many Buddhist people in China and Japan Many Buddhist people in China and Japan never name a baby before birth. They give the baby a fake or so called "milk" name. It should be something bad or disgusting like, for example, "mud face". It is done to make the evil spirits "sick" and get them away from the baby. Such names can become nicknames during the childhood. In picking the name the priest of your temple is able to assist you in picking an auspicious name, either a kanji (Chinese character) based name or to assign kanji to an English name.
One week after the child is born, the new parents and their close relatives will hold the oshichiya, the baby naming ceremony. The oshichiya is held on the seventh night, known as the oshichiya meimeishiki (お七夜命名式), and it is when the child receives his/her name officially in front of the butsudan (home buddhist altar). The traditional meal for the attendees during this ceremony consists of vegetables, red rice and beans, and sea bream fish.
(2) When baby is 100 days old, the okuizome (お食い初め first meal) is prepared and served to the baby. (Some regions have theirs on the 120th day). By performing this ritual, the parents hope that their child will always have good food in abundance and will never go hungry for the rest of his or her life. The menu can differ according to your heritage.
The foods most commonly served in Japan are:
1. Sekihan (赤飯 red rice) – red beans with "sticky" rice (commonly used to make mochi)
2. Sumashi-Jiru (すまし汁 clear soup) or Sui-mono (吸い物 Japanese-style soup)
3. Tai (鯛 sea bream) Tai is a homonym with Mede-Tai (happy, joyous; auspicious). It is also a symbol of wealth and prosperity. It is served with head and tail intact. (Food from a fish/animal must not be offered to the Buddha or put on the Butsudan).
4. Ishi (石 stone). The symbolic meaning of this is that biting a smooth pebble ensures the growth of strong and healthy teeth. You can substitute red-white mochi (餅 Japanese rice rake) or kachiguri (勝栗 dried chestnut).
5. Nimono (煮物 food prepared by boiling or stewing)
6. Kono-mono (香の物 pickled vegetables)
The ceremony should be done at home. The baby should be dressed up in a tiny kimono or other traditional clothing from your family heritage A little table is set up for the baby. Of course, this is only symbolic. Parents will pick up small bits of the food with chopsticks or a spoon and press it against the baby's lips. The food can be shared or eaten by the parents during the get-together which usually followers this happy occasion.
(3) On his/her first birthday (初誕生 hatsu tanjo) the child is given a pair of red-white rice cakes ( 誕生餅 tanjo mochi). This is called issho mochi (一升餅). 一升 is a homonym with 一生 (lifetime), so sometimes it is written as "一生餅" instead. The child will carry the mochi with kotobuki (寿 celebration, longevity) and the child's name written on it in red on his/her back or shoulder, either in a bag or bundled up with a furoshiki (風呂敷 wrapping cloth).
一升 (issho) is an old unit of Japanese liquid measurement equivalent to 1800cc, so the mochi weighs around 1.8kg. During this ceremony the parents' role is to PREVENT the child from walking smoothly by deliberately making him/her stumble with a light push.
By carrying out this ritual, well-intentioned parents wish for the child to be blessed with health, food and enman (円満) throughout his or her life. 円満 represents perfection, harmony, peace, smoothness, completeness, and satisfaction as well as integrity.
(4) Another part of the first birthday tradition is known as erabitori (選び取り pick & keep an item). The baby is given a selection of items and is watched to see which is the first thing picked up as it is believed that this will show his/her potential calling, a tendency towards a specific career field.
1. Writing brush or pen: artist / writer
2. Abacus: merchant, good with calculation
3. Money or wallet: blessed with abundance of wealth, property, and other material goods
4. Scissors: skillful hands / fashion
5. Measuring ruler: methodical / own a big house in the future
6. Chopstick, spoon or rice: chef / never go hungry
7. Dictionary : excellence academic performance / person with extensive knowledge
8. Ball or shoes: athlete / outstanding motor reflexes