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I had never expected to be reborn into the world of Naruto, but apparently that was what happened. It took me a while to figure out where I was, but the reincarnation thing was relatively easy to puzzle out.
The dividing line between the mind and the soul, and the existence of the later, was a matter of frequent discussion in certain circles, a few of which I participated in. I was skeptical of the soul's existence, due to the consequences of brain damage and similar such matters and how that impacted an individual's identity. Some held my position for the same reasons, some for different reasons, and many others held fast to the belief in the existence of the soul. According to those I had spoken with in the last group, what happened to the mind wouldn't impact what happened to the soul.
As it turns out, we were all wrong.
There's a part of the brain that converts short-term memory into long-term memory. I knew the term "hippocampus" was somehow relevant to the process, but I couldn't remember for the life of me (either of them) if that was the section of the brain that performed the conversion or a chemical it used to do so. If that part of the brain is nonfunctional, though, no memory I had was going to last longer than a few minutes.
This particular piece of trivia was relevant to the process of reincarnation for two reasons. First, it meant that I couldn't remember how I my first life had ended. One could argue that it was a mercy, but it did make the transition uncomfortably… abrupt would be the best term. It had just been a stressful day at work, and then suddenly I was dead for some reason.
Second, though, it made the baby years weird. Not as weird as they would have been, but it was still an odd experience. There was a vague sense of consciousness, the steady indoctrination of new information, and then suddenly I was a toddler in a world that was simultaneously new and familiar. It was like I had a really vivid dream, and woke up on the wrong end of reality.
The new information consisted mostly of a new language, which subsequently made it difficult to think of my old life. My memories were in English, but my thoughts were in Japanese, and since one hadn't been used to help me learn the other translation was particularly difficult. It felt like my brain was full to bursting, too, so eventually I stopped trying to remember anything more than images and what little of my experience was in Japanese. Some manga here, some martial arts there, it was enough to remember home by since my friends and family were both active in the latter.
I don't want to say I got over losing them easily, but I'd say I handled it easier than most. It probably helped that I had had a mental disorder in my previous life that, among other attributes, made it so that I became rather attached to whatever status quo my life had, with whatever lumps it brought. For me, the comfort of routine was particularly comfortable. So, while I missed the friends and family of my old life, my thoughts were too focused on the day to day of my new life to pay the matter any mind beyond the odd bout of tears at night.
Likely not the healthiest mental state, but it was what it was.
My new life had provided a fulfilling environment to live in, even if it had been a bit primitive compared to what I was used to. For the most part, it had seemed like a stereotypical Japanese farming community. I'd had loving parents, an older brother, a baby sister, and a family dog that was huge. If I still had an adult body, Shita would've been bigger than a horse, in terms of relative scale. I'd been lucky that he was such a sweet dog. My brother had been less than sweet, though. Apparently, I'd cried a lot as a baby, so he didn't like me as much as a big brother ought to. That is to say, he'd given me a hard time whenever our parents weren't watching, generally calling me words that probably would've been hurtful if I knew what they meant. It hadn't been until I started doing magic tricks that he finally began to warm up to me.
Well, he'd thought of them as magic tricks. It took a while before I had figured out what was actually going on. All throughout this life, I could feel a sort of energy in… pretty much everything. It was probably something I had figured that everyone else was used to feeling, assuming they felt it at all, but for me? It was something new, different, and ultimately unknown.
There was no way that I could not experiment.
I'd started out by making puffs of air that I would shoot out of my hand. I had managed about two or three a day, both in terms of having the time unsupervised to focus on the task and in terms of physical stamina. Manipulating the air was exhausting, and compound that on helping out with chores around the farm… well, it was only a matter of time until I got sloppy. Luckily for me, my brother was the only one who'd found out.
The reason he was the only one to find out, though, was less fortunate. As it turned out, the farming community I'd grown up on was part of a militarily overextended nation whose neighbors had enough combatants to spare for supply raids. So, when our farms were harvesting crops a couple months after my brother had found me out… it wasn't an event I liked the idea of reflecting upon. The aftermath, however, was the most important part of my life.
I'd been walking away from… what had happened, hoping to find some sign that I hadn't been the only survivor. Unfortunately, I hadn't been able to see, hear, or sense anyone. Well, until a soft and drawling voice spoke up from right behind me.
"You did well, to survive as you have." My entire body had gone rigid in panic, and I'd looked over my shoulder to see… that nobody was there. I'd thought my mind was playing tricks on me, so I sighed and turned my focus back in front of holyshithe'srightthere! "Did you see who attacked your village?"
I'd seen, although I hadn't recognized the symbol that identified the attackers until I saw the man in front of me. That the recognition had only come to me then hadn't prevented me from using my finger to draw the symbol of Kumo's forehead protector in the dirt for Orochimaru, who was wearing a black cloak with red clouds on it.
"I suspected as much, but it's good to have someone who saw the attack who can describe what happened to your daimyo." It had taken me a second to process that, and I'd looked up at Orochimaru once I figured it out. Judging by the look on his face, I'd been able to quickly determine that I was terrible at reading faces beyond picking up on his mild amusement. "Tell me, child. Would you like to tell the daimyo what happened here? It would help to convince him to take steps against this from happening again."
I should've just quietly agreed. Asking questions about the future wasn't the sort of thing a child my age was supposed to do. At least, I didn't think so. I wasn't so confident that I'd bet my life on it, that much was certain. So why did I do just that? "What'll happen to me after I tell the daimyo what happened?"
Orochimaru had smiled and, after seeing me cringe, gently patted me on the head. "If he decides to listen to my advice, you'll never be helpless again."
The implication behind that promise was that I was going to be trained as a ninja. It wasn't an implication he could've reasonably expected me to pick up on, but I was more informed than he'd known. It was a matter I'd felt conflicted about. On one hand, ninja training would involve hard work, and Orochimaru wasn't the sort who coddled his subordinates. On the other hand…
On the other hand, I couldn't be helpless. Not after what had just happened. Not with everything I knew was coming. I'd nodded; having made up my mind, and let Orochimaru lead me to wherever it was that he'd wanted me to go.
As it turned out, being a minion for Orochimaru was a learning experience.
Which was good, because I didn't want to get trapped in a global illusion, and I needed every advantage I could muster to stop that from happening.