AN: Wow, I have a lot of SI fics. Oh well, this was bouncing around in my head so here it is. It's just the prologue so it's rather short, but I think I'll have a lot of fun with it.

Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto.

Death came quickly for me, but I suppose getting hit by an out of control semi will do that to you. The after-death darkness wasn't a surprise. I never had any strong religious views so nothingness seemed to fit. Except, it wasn't quite nothing. There was a distinct beating noise, slow and steady. It was exactly like a heartbeat, but I knew it wasn't my own.

The actual process of being reborn made me panic. I had grown used to the dark, and it had been so long since I needed to breathe. The need for oxygen had become so foreign that my first gasp came accompanied by tears.

It was weeks later that I came to terms with apparently being born into some part of Japan. My new body felt entirely different from my first, and I knew it wasn't only because I was a baby. Strangely, I was always very aware of my own blood running through my veins. While it was easy to ignore, it was eery how, when I concentrated or was still, I could feel the way the blood ran through my veins. Plus, there was also the feeling of another river in my body. It would be years before I could identify it as chakra. Until then, I would continue to call it the second river.

Once I was finally able to focus past myself I learned quickly, far quicker than any baby. Partially because I had always been really skilled at picking up languages. I was going to college to be a sign language interpreter, but I had also taken four years of Chinese while I was in high school. It wasn't hard for me to recognize the language my parents had been speaking as Japanese and I learned it quickly.

I didn't see any reason to hold back from expressing my literacy skills. I was arrogant and loved to show off. I didn't bother to slow down at all, speaking in full sentences by the time most of my age group had said their first word. My parents were proud. I became a bragging right for them very quickly, and I beamed under the praise from both them and the strangers they showed me off to.

My elation, however, was short lived. Shimura Danzo seemed to have appeared out of nowhere. This man's presence was so intimidating that, even covered in bandages and using a cane to walk, he commanded the obedience of everyone in the room.

"If you are as intelligent as they say you are." He told me. "You will come with me."

"W-why?" I stuttered, moving to hide behind tou-san's leg.

Kaa-san came and ushered me in front of her, toward Danzo. "It's alright sweetie. These are good men. They'll train you to become a strong ninja like tou-san and kaa-san."

Right. Sometimes I forgot that I was in a world where ninjas are a legitimate profession. Where they could do strange things with chakra. I looked back once more, questioning kaa-san. She smiled and nodded so I left with Danzo, and he took me to a place with no windows. Where the only light was artificial and the only color to see was brown.

The first year there they called something like "phase one". It was terrifying at first, to be in a strange place with no familiar faces. I can still remember that I used to introduce myself with a polite bow every time I met someone new. My parents had encouraged it, and I loved the way it made people fuss over me. In Root, it was turned around. They would ask me time and again, at least three times a day, who I was. If I answered with my name I was punished with harsh violence. If I still had a bruise from the last time I answered incorrectly that was where they would hit again. Within weeks I learned the exact words they wanted as an answer.

"In Root, you have no name. You have no feelings. You have no past. You have no future. There is only the mission."

Despite my answer, I tried to reaffirm to myself that wasn't true. Not out loud, because I had learned quickly that Root had ears everywhere in their facility. There was always an operative ready to deliver punishment. My efforts did me little good. No matter how many times I reminded myself who I was or what Root was, I could feel myself slipping away.

First it was my second identity that disappeared. I couldn't even remember I had been called for two years. Then everything I was Before left. I had memories. I could remember the years of schooling I went through, and everything I learned. But I could no longer identify with the girl who spent her afternoons interpreting plays for those who are deaf.

Maybe I wasn't as far gone as I thought, though. Because I still strived for praise. Acknowledgements from Root operatives are few and far between, but when I managed to do something perfect they would grace me with a simple but powerful phrase.

"Very good."

Insignificant as those words should be, they became the world to me. Every day became a mission where I would attempt to achieve them. My room had very few objects, but I at least had a notebook given to me so that I could practice my writing. In it, along the margins, I kept details on what I had done to receive praise for that day. If I failed my mission for that day I would spend hours wondering what I could do better.

Whatever I wrote, that wasn't for Root to actually look over, was in English. Despite realizing that I would probably never meet another English speaker in this world I felt it was really important to remember it. It was all I had left of Before.

For the entirety of that first year I was isolated from all other children, so it was a shock when it came time for the second phase of my training. I was moved from my old, isolated room to one that I shared with a girl who must have been a couple years older than my now three-year-old self.

"Hello." I greeted with a polite bow before moving to put my only possession, the notebook, in my desk drawer.

"What's that?" The girl asked.

"N-nothing." I said, closing the drawer harshly. "Just some notes."

She only shrugged and turned back to her side of the room. Neither one of us talked anymore that night, both still adjusting to our new circumstances.

In the morning we were taken to a room resembling a classroom. There, we met half a dozen other children ranging from near my age to around six. They, too, had no names. We weren't even allowed to call each other nicknames, but I suppose it wasn't needed with only eight of us. There was no reason to talk about our classmates and names weren't really needed to talk to each other.

We listened attentively in class, all of us most likely going through the same first-phase training. However, when lunch time came we were allowed to talk to each other and our differences came to the surface.

Most of us sat silent and unsure how to interact after a year without the opportunity. One of the older boys, I called him Chatty in my head, as the first to overcome the problem. The moment he took a bite of his food, he made a face and sputtered, "this tastes gross."

"It's good." I disagreed simply, taking a small bit of my tonkatsu.

"Oh yeah? Then why are you just nibbling at yours?" he retorted.

"Because," I bristled. "Unlike juvenile brats, I know how to enjoy my food."

"Hey! I'm older than you!"

"You don't act like it." I retorted

"I was just being friendly! Unlike a certain little baby."

"Pft," I scoffed. "Is that supposed to insult me?"

"Yeah, maybe it is!"

"Guys," interjected a younger boy, whom I later dubbed Peace. "We shouldn't fight."

"I wasn't fighting." I said. "I was only disagreeing with his assessment of the food."

"Why d'ya gotta use such big words?" Chatty whined.

I shrugged, "I like them. They're more precise, therefore better suited to express my point."

Chatty scowled, but before he could say anything Peace spoke up again. "So, class was fun! Do you think we'll really be able to learn all the things sensei told us about?"

"I will." I said confidently. "No way I'm disappointing our Root senpai."

"Me neither." Piped up my roommate. "Because, they picked us specially, right?"

"Yeah!" Cheered Chatty. "I'll even eat this gross pork stuff if it'll make me strong like sensei said."

Even I laughed along with the rest of my classmates. Whatever petty argument chatty and I had gotten into was forgotten as we began discussing that morning's lesson.

After lunch we went back to class. While the morning had been all about theory the afternoon was practical. We had to practice our hand signs and taijutsu katas. It was the first time I had to do anything that required actual dexterity in my hands. Writing also been difficult, to an extent, but I already had practice with a lot of kanji from my Chinese classes.

Some of the children did very well, but others had more difficulty. Personally, I found it rather easy. My only real problem was that I had to remember the names. Because while I could do the hand signs when I was copying the teacher, I had a harder time if he gave us a name, like Dragon. Punishment for these mistakes was the same way it had been when we were unlearning our names.

It was a relief when we were finally dismissed from class. Then, we were given free time to hang out with all the other kids. I gravitated toward my roommate, perhaps because she seem to strive for the same perfection I did. During this time we all had a chance to find hobbies. My roommate and I also tried to find something we could enjoy in our free time, but we found ourselves spending most of our time practicing our lessons.

However, we both find little things to enjoy. When she wasn't practicing with me, my roommate discovered a love for poetry. For someone who was supposed to be so emotionless, her poetry was beautiful. It made me feel more than I had ever felt since joining Root. Perhaps that's why I took up painting. The words she spun together in her free form poetry made me imagine colors... so many colors. And while I could draw things as realistically as I wanted my paintings were impressionist, they were about feelings. My roommate also seemed to enjoy them. We had seen very little color since we joined Root.

It was always strange to me that while Root tried so hard to take away our identity, we were never punished what we did in our free time. My roommate was allowed to write about her love for the sky that she hadn't seen in years. I was allowed to take her words and transform them into all the colors of the rainbow. Never once, were we taken aside to be hit with a stick nor told that what we were doing was wrong. The one time you're allowed to feel emotional was with each other.

So all of us, all eight of us, became very close. Our friendship was all we had to call our own.

AN: For those of you who follow Honorable Granddaughter I'm totally still working on that. But yeah, this was in my head and I had to get it down. This'll also probably be a background fic that I just work on when inspiration flares up. Anyway, I hoped you enjoyed and I'd love to hear what you think :3