This story about is a girl thrown in the world of fiction.

A world that we believed is made up.

A world full of adventures and danger.

A world where violence and murder are considered normal.

A world to which this girl's soul had been reincarnated into a new identity.

The thing is...

I am that girl.

I had no idea how I got here or why I am here.

What is my purpose? I don't know.

I was reincarnated, with memories of my past life.

vv

Chapter 1 : Prelude

The tragedy of life is not death but what we let die inside of us while we live ~ Norman Cousins

'Prelude' - thoughts

Prelude- normal text/ Japanese

^v^

I was just like any other young adult in the world. I, too follow a routine, almost the same schedule every day. I lived alone, having thrown out from the place I once called home early in my youth. Why? That is because that woman- my 'mother'- blames me for my father's death. I couldn't say that she's absolutely wrong nor she's right. I didn't kill him but I'm the reason he died.

I am 21 years old(supposedly) and a scholar working student. It's been 6 years but I still remember everything clearly, and I never let myself forget. I'll give the brief backstory of my life.

6 years ago, I got into a huge argument with my mother. I never knew why but she loved pointing out all my faults and antagonizes me every time she can ever since I was a child.

All I ever did during my childhood days isn't playing outside like any other kids, instead I busied myself studying to be able to meet all of her expectations. I know that I'm nowhere perfect but I was trying to be close to perfect. I was and still am a straight A student. I joined clubs and won a few national competitions along the way. I did all of those for her, for my mother. I strived to be the daughter she'll be proud of but that wasn't enough for her…Nothing seems to be enough. She only became more spiteful and overbearing.

She doesn't approve of the things that I adore. She would continue throwing insults-condescendingly- whenever my father wasn't looking. Although I could but I never told my father about the constant verbal abuse I got because I don't want them to fight. At first I thought it was just tough, unconditional love but no, I was just naïve. It never once occurred to me that she just hates me entirely. I continued pursuing for that woman's love. I never hated her even her attitude towards me is downright unfair. The more she pushed me away, the more determined I was to win her love.

Life was not easy because of that. It was mentally torturing. I forced myself to the limit.

For years, I continued enduring her abuse while very compliant to all of her demands. She never once hit me but I think the abuse just has to stop. That day I turned 15, I confronted her. It started out with me gently probing and complimenting to appease her. In the end, she got annoyed and raised her voice at me and started rambling nonsense, intensifying the pain in my chest. I could've stayed silent like I used to but I'm tired…of everything...of her treating me like trash. I snapped. I told her everything about the feelings I buried deep inside my heart for all those years. The conversation became heated. My father-who came downstairs because of the noise- wasn't able to stop us…or rather can't stop her from saying anything that she shouldn't have said. She said it anyway,

"You were never my daughter. You're just a bastard! A child of that harlot! You're should've been burned in the pits of hell with that whore!" she said with spite. Her eyes darted at me with pure disgust.

My face paled at the revelation and tried denying everything she said-hoping it was all a sick joke-but all I got from her was a smug smile- spite and disgust were evident all over her face. All those years, all the things I endured just to be accepted by her, was for nothing. My father didn't even deny it so she's telling the truth. I had never felt devasted like that in my entire life.

My father tried to calm me down but I shoved past him and ran out the house. I heard his footsteps running after me, yelling for my name but I didn't listen, I didn't stop. I wish I did… Although at the time, I didn't care. I should've stopped, I should've listened. I was so blinded by my emotions that I didn't notice a speeding truck around the corner, only a few miles away from hitting me. When I saw it coming my mind blanked, I stood still in fear and simply tightly closed my eyes, preparing for the pain to come. At that moment I thought I was done for. Only that, the pain never came. I was shoved out of the way, and the skidding truck slammed against a figure, my father. I tried to scream for him but I can't, my voice got stuck in my throat. His body landed harshly, his left arm was twisted badly and I could see blood splattered everywhere. The last thing I remember was hearing my voice screaming at the horrific sight before blacking out.

vv

I woke up at the hospital hours later. At first I thought it was just a horrible dream but the coppery stain and smell on my hair told me it's not. It was all real. The nurse informed me of my father's death and people (cops) came to asked me questions however they weren't able to gain any information from me. My father was ran over a truck! I wouldn't be looking at the plate number at that time! I couldn't answer most of their because my thoughts were plagued by the horrific scene of my father's mangled corpse. In the end, they weren't able to track down the culprit. They werent much help anyways.

I stood by his funeral, consumed with guilt and sorrow, thinking of the days I wasted trying to impress someone unworthy when he's always been there to encourage and support me. I felt that dull pain of regret. I regretted not noticing that he's always been the one who listened to my troubles and cheered me up whenever I'm feeling down. He's always been there but I never once did anything for him, to make him feel special. I was to fixated on my mother to pay attention to him. I should've told him I love him and should've appreciated him more. I should've hang out with him often than staying holed up in my room whenever he's home. I should've laughed more whenever he attempts to make a joke but even with all of my 'I should haves', it was already too late. He's gone.

This incident didn't only affect me but also Mother(I have to call her that). She may look like a normal grieving wife in the eyes of others but I could never miss the malice and hate in her eyes whenever she looks at me. Few of our relatives stayed over at the house to make sure we're both alright. By the time they left, she threw me out of the house and yelled at me to never appear before her eyes again. Somehow I saw that coming. I understand what she's feeling. She wouldn't want to stay at the same space with the girl who took her beloved husband away from her. I, without a word, gathered my clothes and stuff she threw away and left the house, knowing that I won't be able to come back.

That's pretty much the story behind why I live alone.

I rented a studio-type apartment (composed of a room, a bathroom and small counters and sink) that I could afford using all the money I saved(I'm glad my father taught me how to save money), and started a new life alone. I didn't bother contacting any of my father's relatives knowing that they wouldn't take me in. They all have children and I don't want to become a burden or a free loader. I started applying for part time jobs to sustain myself. In the hindsight, it might seem that I'm recovering very quickly but really, I'm not. I'm just trying to not think about that day too much. I knew my father wouldn't approve of me neglecting myself or continue grieving. I imagined that he'd say 'life doesn't happen to you, it happens for you'. I figured that if I didn't start moving on, I'll be disappointing him so I spent my days trying to survive and thrive. I may have experienced a few bumps and ends living alone but I managed.

It's not really the ideal life for a teen living- to grow up this way- without security and support. There had been a lot of times that I was tempted to give up. I had to do all things by myself. I had to take care of everything because I know there's no one else I could depend on. Although life at that point weren't so bad. The neighbors were nice enough to check up on me.

I had friends before but none of them were close to me because none of them can truly understand me. I only became friends with them because of school clubs or that we have the same interests or hobbies like anime, music and sports. However I never tried to stay with them for too long. For one, they never knew the pain of losing a loved one and having to endure the hardships in living alone-unsupported. They would always tell me that- "Oh! You're so lucky" or "Wow, that's awesome. I want to live by myself soon too". They would always whine and complain about the simplest of things like being nagged and scolded by their parents or that their siblings were very annoying. Most of the time, I would bury down the bitterness in my chest whenever I hear them say those things.

'You're lucky to have a family at all' was the sentence went unsaid. I know it's not their fault that they couldn't understand. I was like them before too, ignorant, naïve and stupid. Even so, I still wish that they'll be more thankful for the things they had. Being able to come home, then greeted warmly by your family and able to share a quality time together. Wasn't that something nothing else could ever replace? I really envied them.

Despite my shortcomings, my efforts lead to fruition. I received a full scholarship by the time I graduated from high school due to my academic background-I was thankful that my father applied for me early during middle school. I no longer had other financial problems and can focus earning money to pay for the house bills and save some to buy a house. By the time I entered college, I was able to save enough money to move into a more homely home. It's still small house but roomier and cosier than the apartment I lived in.

Everything had been fine and well from there. I never heard anyone from my father's relatives ever again, assumed that that 'woman' must've told them I left or something. I couldn't care less. Years past and I was at my last term to be able to graduate and receive my degree. I planned to apply for a stable job either in the design department or the entertainment department. I was so close, so near.

However, fate had other things planned out for me.

+v+

I don't remember exactly how I died although I had theories how. All I remember is that I'm doing my usual routine that weekend. It was around 7 pm when I decided start doing my homework in my room. It's a quiet night aside from the noise of fireworks and people cheering from afar. There's a huge festival occurring somewhere in town. I would've gone too but quickly dropped the idea, thinking of how rowdy the roads would be. Everyone in the neighborhood went there so I assumed that the place will be cramped with people. It turns out that I should've accepted a kind neighbor's invitation to go with them at the festival. I've never thought that in that normal day, will be my last.

I was far too at ease that night, busy answering the questions in my workbook to notice the noise at the kitchen, dismissing it thinking it's just stray cats playing at my backyard again... I went outside for a glass of water only to notice that my window was broken. I remembered myself stiffening in alarm and went to pick up a shard. I also remember seeing someone else's silhouette behind mine before my memory became hazy from there.

So some of you might be wondering, how did I know I died? Well, this is where the real story begun.

The only thing I saw after gaining consciousness is nothingness. I'm curled up inside a wet…dark void. This left me to ponder (after panicking) for the worst case scenarios: whether that I was kidnapped and put inside a case then thrown in some pond somewhere but I immediately waved away the thought. I'm not drowning. I was merely floating. It's strange. Although scared, I oddly feel calm and comfortable. There are also instances where I felt happy even if there's nothing to be happy about or sad when there's nothing to be sad about. It's weird. In this enclosed space, I just felt at peace, like I have nothing else to worry about. I…don't want to leave. It's too comfortable. That is until the space started enclosing on me, I started panicking. I tried moving my arms and legs, resisting the walls from suffocating me. I felt like I've being pushed away from my warm sanctuary no matter how much I resisted. I was pushed or maybe pulled, towards a cold place.

I tried opening my eyes only to find out that my vision is blurry. I could only see white, black, yellow blotches moving around, speaking a language that I was familiar with yet I couldn't understand. There's too many thoughts running inside my head. I was utterly confused and terrified.

' Is it that stranger? Wait…what happened to my eyes? I can't see a thing!'

I tried to speak only to find out that I couldn't. Someone is holding me right now and I don't know who. I felt like I was wrapped with a material with a texture similar to cloth.

"Huh…? What the hell?! What is this? Who are you people? Where am I?!"

I tried to say but to no prevail. My voice only came out as cries and intangible babbling.

"Wait a minute...what's wrong with my voice?!"

My cries were ignored. The one holding me -I presume a woman judging by their voice- was talking to someone. I don't know and I don't care who at the moment. I kept wailing, trying to kick and punch whoever it is holding me to let go but no prevail. I heard someone chuckling before I felt like I'm being lifted and given to someone else. I then heard a pained cry of a woman and multiple frantic voices. The person holding me tried to calm me down-or at least I think that is what they're doing- with soft gentle words as they gently rock me in their arms but after hearing subsequent pained crying and groaning from the same woman again?…not a chance. I wailed harder.

Soon enough, I heard another cry much similar to mine. I felt the man move again and I was placed on another set of arms. Unlike the man who held me, I felt warm inside and safe. Joy was bubbling within me in these arms and I was content. I felt at peace once again when I heard the woman started humming a soft tune, realizing how tired I felt. I stopped crying along the other one crying along with me. Exhaustion caught up to me and I felt my consciousness slipped away.

vv

It must've days before my vision cleared a bit. My voice became hoarse after all the crying I did these past few days and nights. Nevertheless I was glad that my vision was back but what I saw.. I couldn't believe it myself. Everywhere I look is all animated: the walls, the crib, my hands, and the people who both looked incredibly familiar.

At first, I thought I was dreaming or that I might have hit my head somewhere and now I'm seeing things. I honestly don't want to tell you guys how much havoc I caused just trying to comprehend what in the world is going on. I couldn't talk besides babbling and I have no other ways to communicate except crying. I couldn't lift myself or control my body. I can move my arms but it took a lot of strength to clap my hands. It totally took a lot… for me to accept that this all of this are real: that I became a baby again like literally a baby!

My initial reaction to this predicament is of course, shock, then mortification, and then lastly awe. I'm animated plus I'm a baby. A freaking slobbery baby!

Being an infant, I have the most limited choices: cry, wail, babble, and sleep, drink milk and diaper change, which, mind you I found absolutely embarrassing! There is nothing else more embarrassing than being aware that someone else is washing you even if that person is your mother. As a baby, I could do nothing but to follow this (my) body's instinct even when I have an adult mind. I was also at awe, looking curiously everywhere my eye can reach. I can't move my head yet no matter how hard I tried

I feel overwhelmed and...sad. Somehow I knew. I died; simple as that. I died without finishing what I started. I left that world, my friends and those people who were kind to me behind. I died without giving much fight. All my hard work was all for naught.

On the bright side, I feel blessed that I've been given a new chance in live and also a chance to have a normal loving family. I did got that thought half right. I'm right that I was reincarnated but my parents, my family or this world entirely is anything but normal.

I looked at the body huddled against me at the corner of my eye then trailed my gaze to the man making stupid baby cucko faces at us. He must've seen me looking at him so he drew his attention solely at me. I'm not mistaking it…This man looks and definitely is Shikaku Nara and if I'm correct, this baby beside me is Shikamaru and the woman who presumably my mother is Yoshino Nara.

And my first thought is,

'Holy hell! I'm in the fucking Naruto-verse!'

Nothing can describe what I felt when I realized it. I might have looked calm on the outside but in the inside, I felt like there's like a storm of emotions clashing against each other within me. I felt giddy, ecstatic but mostly scared, knowing how violent this world can be. Excited? Very. Terrified? Absolutely. There's a lot, probably hundreds of things I could do. I might be the only living being who have the knowledge of the future and change it according to my will. However if I were to intervene, I have to make sure that this world is what I think is and does it follow the canon. Providing that I was born at the same day as Shikamaru, then there are a lot of pressing matters to think over: one, Kushina still hasn't gave birth to Naruto and the Kyuubi is still contained, two, the Hyuuga incident and the Uchiha massacre haven't occurred yet and lastly, how should I train to become stronger because let's face it, the weak easily dies here. A lot of people wouldn't also think twice to kill a woman much less an infant like me. This world is brutal, let's get that one thing straight. In the bottom line, I'm absolutely vulnerable to anything or to anyone.

There's too much to think about yet too little time to plan. I have to decide carefully or else I'll jeopardize everything and lead this world to ruin...or possibly my ruin.

Author's note

:Still editing...

: Hello Mizuki here^^! This is my very first time using to write a fanfic. I hope you'll enjoy reading my updates. I also need help in imagining my character's genin, chuunin and adult outfits so if you do have some badass ideas, please do send me a message. The winning idea/ the one stood out the most will be featured in the story. I'll update the next chapters soon. I would also like to remind everyone that this story is purely fiction. Thank you so much for reading and/or reviewing.

Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto and its series. They belong to Masashi Kishimoto-sensei. I only own this story and its original characters.

Warning: K+ (for 9 years old and above). This story might also contain gore and cussing.

Pairings: under discussion(if there will be). I won't be entertaining requests about the pairings. I'm sorry about that.