This is a fanfiction. Characters, locales, and plot located herein are quite possibly not my own.

Note: Any deviation from canon in this story is either intended or too insignificant to correct. This is pointed at you, canon-cops.

Death, Ranma found, was quick. Not the dying, the fighting and striving for that final burst of inspiration that would carry him to victory – no, that was both painful and drawn out. But that brief instant of peace, of simply existing in an endless moment where all his worries, all his memories of the final battle with Happosai shoved into the background, well, that passed far too quickly.

"Naruto?"

"Mm?" The scar-faced fellow had been blathering on about shinobi and the will of fire and harsh penalties for several minutes now and Ranma really wished he would just get to the point.

"You only have ten seconds left to correctly perform the clone technique. Are you just giving up?"

Now, to be certain, Ranma still wasn't particularly sure what was going on. Whoever's body he was in had done him the disservice of being even shorter than his girl form, and having only had the body for a scant few minutes he was still having trouble even breathing properly, but he was sure of one thing: Ranma Saotome doesn't quit! Now if only he could figure out how to move his arms...

"I'm sorry, Naruto, but I have to fail you."

"Mm!" Learning how to move his vocal cords would be a good idea too.

"I'm sure he just has a bit of stage fright, Iruka, couldn't we give him one more minute?"

The white haired man put on a charming smile that nonetheless put Ranma on edge. 'Am I (the not me who was) friends with him?'

"No, if he can't perform it here in a classroom he can't be trusted to use it on the battlefield. You fail, Naruto. Forgive me Naruto, I know it was your last chance to become a shinobi."

"Hn..." 'I guess I really screwed this one up.' Objectively he knew that it really wasn't his fault, and that the failure really shouldn't mean anything to him. On the other hand, the pity rolling off Iruka as he walked out of the room positively turned his stomach.

Another few minutes passed before Mizuki packed off his papers and walked over to where Naruto (Ranma) stood frozen on the floor. "You know, normally it's just a task given to the rookie of the year, but I bet if you were able to complete it before Sasuke they'd let you become a genin even with your scores."

"Eh?" 'Sasuke..." Ranma vaguely remembered a small monkey-looking ninja but even if he'd somehow popped up in the middle of a ninja-school he doubted that Kuno's retainer fit the age criteria.

"There's a certain scroll in the Hokage's tower that needs to be stolen by midnight..." Mizuki began to rattle off a few clarifications concerning the shape of the scroll and its location but Ranma was intensely distracted by the itch at the tip of his nose. With great effort he edged his hand up, up, up – too far!

"Are you making fun of me!" Mizuki shouted as Ranma's desperate efforts to extricate his finger from his nose managed to move it every direction but down. "Looking down on me, you stinking fox, how dare you! You know why it is that everyone in this village hates you, Naruto?" 'I got it!' At long last he had done it... only to fire a bogey towards Mizuki's open mouth. His split-second decision to try and catch it ended tragically with two fingers now up each of Mizuki's nostrils. 'What was that saying? You can pick your friends, and you can pick your nose, but you can't pick your friends nose.' Judging by Mizuki's expression as he back-stepped frantically the saying was a true one. "Just die already, you stupid demon!" Ranma really wasn't liking the look of that oversized shuriken. Fortunately for him, Mizuki was even more wary of Ranma's slack, apparently utterly unfrightened facial expression. The possibility that the Kyuubi had simply been masquerading as a dull-witted male child was rapidly consuming his mind. The fact that Ranma simply couldn't control his facial muscles, however, was apparently quite lost on him. In a sudden buildup of panic Mizuki dove for the closest window, tossing the shuriken behind him. Ranma's subsequent sneeze and miraculously lucky dodge were covered by the explosion of broken glass as Mizuki made good on his escape.

Wind carried a burst of rain through the open window, and as that familiar tingle ran through his skin and a previously baggy orange jumpsuit suddenly became tight and binding Ranma was reminded of just how happy she was to be alive. "Alright, first order of business is Mizuki's lunchbox." Her hands were ahead of her words as she swiftly delved into the box of goodies the fool had left behind in his haste. "Mphen," she said, mouth stuffed with food, "I'll take a nap." Life was better with a plan. Especially when those plans consisted entirely of self-gratification.

End Chapter 1.

Alas, work is rough. It seems you'll have to expect short chapters or none at all. We'll see where this one goes.