Age 3


Even though being trapped in the body of an infant was a rather untenable position for a former career criminal of the infamous East End of London, and now turn renegade escape from the Pit, I can honestly say that these past few months have been some of the happiest of my life. Do you have any idea, and I'm not being overly dramatic for the sake of it, any idea how good clean fresh air tastes? How good the warmth of human flesh is after the years I spent rotting in Hell? How good the food, even if it is just mushed up baby food, tastes when you haven't eaten anything for so long? If my parents were shocked when I started laughing fresh out of the womb, they were nonplussed by my seemingly everlasting good cheer.

In all respects I was the perfect child. I seldom cried or made a hassle, but when I did I seemed to them to have an uncanny ability to make my desires clear. Potty training, though embarrassing, was a very short lived and successful affair. I said my first word a few days shy of my first full month. That wasn't to say everything had been a stellar string of successes one after another. Breast feeding for instance. The first time my new mother had pulled out one of those and shoved it into my face I thought I was going to have a heart attack. I managed to get away by biting down and shouting out for dad to save me while my mouth was no longer obstructed. Sufficed to say, my father took one look at the situation and started laughing his arse off. My mother, luckily for me, was too busy beating my father over the head with my baby bottle to notice me beating a hasty retreat via first class knees.

I learned enough to talk semi-intelligibly by my third month. By then however, I was through lazing around in my cot. I'd been satisfied so far by just enjoying life as it was, carefree without the constant threat of unknowable menaces slipping out of shadows to savage me. As far as I was concerned, it was time to start being myself again.

No offense to my new "parents", but once you've had a taste of independence and success, it's hard to just sit down and live a child's life. I was hankering for something interesting to occupy my time. By the time I built up enough strength in my legs to walk on my own, the easy ride my surrogate family had been enjoying came to an abrupt and tragic end. I broke out of play pens, mountaineered out of my cot and started toying with sharp objects. I swear, the bags around their eyes grew out overnight and stayed there for months. I didn't stop of course. The sooner they got used to the fact that I was perfectly capable of looking after myself the better it would be for all of us.

Despite all the hubbub however, I'll admit my new family are very decent people. The Nara clan of a rather odd place called Konohagakure. I can safely assume that wherever I got dropped off, it most certainly not on Earth anymore. I'm not even sure I'm in the right dimension. I've seen some pretty blatant violations of the laws of physics in my short few years here. I managed to sneak down to a clan training field during one of my great escapes. I'm not someone who is easily shaken, but what I saw some of those clan members doing with their shadows brought back very unpleasant memories of my time in the Pit. A Chūnin had to guide me back to my house while I hyperventilated my little body into unconsciousness.

Once I got over the shock, I knew what I wanted to spend my time working towards. I watched the Nara shinobi every day, taking in the different techniques: the taijutsu, the ninjutsu and the occasional genjutsu.

What I saw left me deeply impressed. One man with these sorts of abilities could have taken over the East End in a week. I want them. I want them. I want them.

And that's how I found myself in front of my father, Shikako Nara, asking him if I could train to be a shinobi. Now, the man is apparently one of the most dangerous shinobi in the village. The current Nara clan head, and Jōnin Commander. Kind of a big deal. And this hardened killer cooed at me and ruffled my three year old head. He really had to stop doing that, I scowled slightly, but made no protest. He was a stand-up guy. A good parent. Unfortunately his odd talent with children was somewhat lost on me. I didn't need a traditional upbringing. I just needed a guardian until I was old enough to do things by myself.

"Why do you want to be a ninja all of a sudden, Reiji-chan? You're a bit young to be learning things like that."

I was a bit young when I broke out of my cot and stole all your kunai dad, I said internally. What I did outwardly was hunch up and press my forehead to the ground. "Please, Otousan."

I wasn't about to play the child and cutesy my way into his good graces for this, and I wasn't about to throw a tantrum. Too much pride for that. Shikako however was the best kind of parent. All his interactions with me were aimed in some way to enforce certain principles in my head. Respect, dedication, loyalty. Like I said before, even though his efforts to ensure I grew up as a respectable guy were kind of redundant, I still had to respect his trying. But, and this is a big but, dangle a hint that you were doing something in order to conform to an ideal of loyalty or respect under his nose, and he would fold like a sheet of paper.

He'd let you do anything you wanted if he thought you were doing it for a good reason. So intent was he at finding those little hints that his son was growing up to be a good little kid, he'd completely overlook the underlying reason. The reason I wanted the training was because I liked the idea of wielding that kind of power. Hey now, don't give me that look!

I realize that sounded ominous, but trust me, it isn't like that. Well…maybe it is, but that isn't necessarily a bad thing. Who wouldn't want to do half of the things that these ninja can do? It's as natural for me to pursue stuff like this as it is for me to eat when I'm hungry. Or breathe when my body needs oxygen.

Stop rolling your eyes!

Let's move past that shall we, or are you done sniggering yet?

Good.

I felt dads hand on my shoulder, and he was smiling at me affectionately. "Being a shinobi is not something to take upon yourself lightly, Reiji-chan. There is more to it than just flashy jutsu and a shiny headband. Being a shinobi is about sacrifice. It is about honor and loyalty. It is promise made to your village, to protect and also to destroy if needs be. You have shown me much character at such a young age Reiji-chan, so I will respect your final decision. Are you sure this is the path you want to tread?"

You might think that this is a bit of a heavy conversation for a three year old. You'd be right. But my dad is no fool. He's a Nara for cry sake, and despite his tendency to view my actions through rose tinted glasses, he picked up long ago on the fact that I'm bloody smart for my age. He doesn't suspect that I'm actually a thirty six year old masquerading as a three year old though. He just thinks I'm some sort of prodigy. Like I said, rose tinted glasses.

But, real reason for me wanting the training aside, and all the awkward lies, I don't think I'll just take the training and run when I'm old enough. I like the people around here. I like the food and the landscape. I like the weather. Hell, I even enjoy the smell of the air. Being a ninja in service to the village might sound a bit constraining, but hell, there are perks to the job. Not to mention, most of the traits required by ninja fall quite neatly in line with the skills of my former profession. And I'd get to do it legally. In fact, I'd be encouraged and paid to do it. And I can't forget the allure of being taught how to beat up people with just my shadow.

I look up, and make my expression as resolute as possible. "Yes Otousan, thank you."


Age 5


The next few years were productive. I'd always prided myself for being efficient and dedicated. Well my capacity for both was put to the test. I learned about chakra, about the history of the Nara clan and the village as a whole. About the history of the profession of shinobi as far back as the First Great War. I read books, I took notes, and my hand developed blisters as extensively as the ground developed grass.

The whole situation reminded me of secondary school education, only with a decidedly more serious goal in mind. It was challenging, but not overly so. After all, I'd been old enough to actually work for a living in my past life. And I'd been…self-employed in a manner of speaking. One of the biggest lies when people harp on about the benefits of being self-employed, is that your time is your own. You make your own hours, and you take time off whenever you feel like it.

Well, technically, you can.

I guess.

It never really worked out that way for me when I was building my own *cough* business. I usually found that if you had any free time at all, it was usually a sign that you had done something extremely right, or very wrong. The latter was the most common. Building your own business sucked up time like a vampire, and was twice as aggravating. Yeah, just let that sink in for a moment. Twice as aggravating as having your blood sucked out by the undead. No, I'm not exaggerating.

Learning history and chakra theory might have been difficult for some, but it was laughably easy for someone who had paperwork shoved under his nose from nine to five every day for almost ten years. The real issue was the amateur taijutsu lessons my father assigned me. And who he assigned me to. My big brother, Shikaku Nara. Fifteen years old, a Genin, and lazy to the point of shear ridiculousness.

Due to the fact that he had work to do for his missions and a rather impressive timetable of nap times that he felt it his personal duty to adhere to, his interest and patience with his job of teach me taijutsu was rather lacking. Now I'm no slouch when it comes to a bit of a brawl. I'd learnt boxing from the ravenous street monsters of London's East End. The same streets where legends like the Kray twins and Lenny McLean had learned their craft. Taijutsu however was an entirely different kettle of fish. It was refined. It was accurate. It was lethal. Even the academy standard was a carefully formulated style of fighting developed for hard and sustained combat.

The bareknuckle boxing I was familiar with was made for confrontations of the hard and fast verity that might not actually end up in serious injury or death at all. A bit of a knock around so to speak. Don't get me wrong. It could be lethal. Taking multiple blows to the head is definitely enough to kill you given the right circumstances, but Taijutsu was geared towards defending yourself against injury and death, and inflicting it upon your opponent. It was elegant, it was useful and something I wanted to perfect. Not that I needed to be perfect. The academy had lower standards than myself. But if Stephen Aldridge…sorry, Nara Reiji was going to do anything, he was going to do it properly.

Unfortunately that meant motivating Shikaku to teach me. I paused in the middle of one of my katas to look at the soundly sleeping form of my brother…

This might be difficult.


I worried my parents sometimes. Obviously.

I worked hard, maybe even too hard for a child of my age. I spent hours performing katas and reading through each one of the many volumes that were supplied to me for my training. They weren't expecting me to have progressed at such a rate. In another life, maybe one where they were the ones to force me into learning this stuff, and I wasn't so damn dismissive of the bruises and the cuts that piled up on my skin from all the physical training, they might have let pride in my success be the deciding factor in their decision making process.

Not here though. Mikazuki, my mother, had a furious row with my father regarding his decision to let me train as a shinobi. It was rather one sided. Shikako agreed with her at almost every turn and promised to make me start doing some normal, kid's things. The only reason they argued at all, at least in my opinion, was so Mikazuki could vent some frustrations. I could tell she was proud as well, and didn't want to tell me to stop herself in case she somehow ruined my motivation. Still, every time she saw my blisters or one of my new bruises, I noticed an agonized look swim across her face. My sympathies went out to Shikako. My ex-wife had been a worry wart as well. One of the reasons we were divorced before my death.

It wasn't such a big deal to me though. As far as I was concerned, just with all the times I broke out of my cot or my play pen, they would get over it and realize that I didn't need the concern. That was until dad made good on his promise to mom. Then it became a big deal.

"Dad, I've finished my book."

I trotted up to my father in the training fields as he kept a watchful eye on the Chūnin. His boots crunched on the gravel path that circled the field as he turned towards me. He was wearing his pants, boots and forehead protector sporting the symbol of the leaf, but he had everything else off for the sparing matches. He was a hands on Commander, preferring to take a more active hand in the training of new recruits than some of the others. And he never let it take away from his other duties either. I wondered, idly, where Shikaku had gotten his chronic laziness. It certainly wasn't from his father. I hadn't seen my dad take so much as a coffee break since the first moment I'd met him.

I looked up at him past the large expanse of muscle and a rippling six-pack. He had some scar tissue over his left kidney, and between his fourth and fifth rib. Someone, or multiple someone's had tried to kill him, and if my grasp of anatomy was up to snuff, had come bloody close to succeeding.

He smiled at me and as was custom between the two of us, ruffled my hair. It was greasy, and I half wondered whether I should take a wash. The water was usually hot this time of day. I tossed the idea aside however when I realized that I'd only get myself dirty again when I went through my katas later this afternoon. I should have had one yesterday. My fault for taking a few extra hours to organize my notes and finish the book I was now trying to get Shikako to take from me so I could get another to work on. He took the book all right, and looked at it thoughtfully. Something was on his mind, something out of the usual. "Reiji-chan, when was the last time you did something that wasn't studying or a taijutsu class?"

Instantly my mind whirled back to the argument I'd overheard between Shikako and Mikazuki. Danger captain, danger off the starboard bow! All hands to the guns.

"Is this about the argument that you and kachan had?"

Shikako grinned and hunkered down so he could address me eye to eye. "Eavesdropping on me and your Okasan isn't a nice thing to be doing, Reiji-chan."

I smiled back, "I couldn't help it. Kachan was being very loud."

Shikako laughed at that, drawing the gaze of one of the Chūnin, who grinned at the sight of the little kid and his father at the side of the field. Apparently, I'm very cute as a kid. Who knew?

"I really don't mind studying. It's actually really relaxing."

That was actually a blatant lie. I was kind of indifferent to the studying in terms of how much I liked doing it. What drove me to keep doing it was the size of the payoff at the end of it all. Shikako didn't have to know that though. But he was a Nara. He was smart, and he had common sense on his side. Dad shook his head.

"You won't fool me that easily Reiji-chan, I've seen a lot of determination in your face when you study. But I've never seen any enjoyment. How long has it been since you had fun?"

I was tempted to say that having fun was pointless, when stacked up against what I could gain from learning chakra control and taijutsu. That, on the other hand wouldn't sway Shikako none. He'd think that long hours of studying had warped my brain or something, and demand that I do something completely and utterly pointless. Like play with toys, or work on a coloring book. Sometimes I cursed the fact that most kids had to be dragged away from their playtime with a crowbar and a winch and chain. I never thought I'd have to make excuses to get in some productive work.

"A while," I admitted, "But I'm not having a bad time."

"I didn't think you were, Reiji-chan. You study hard, you train hard and you never complain. But you are five years old and you still haven't made any friends your own age. I agree with your mother when she says it's worrying. Now before I give you your next book, I want you to do something for me."

"What?" I asked cautiously.

"You are very mature for your age Reiji-chan, and I'm proud that my son is so dedicated and dependable. So believe me when I say that this is not a punishment for anything."

I rolled my eyes inwardly. Get to the point Otousan, tell me what it is that I have to do to get my bloody book before I die again, this time of old age.

"There are guests coming around for a clan meeting tomorrow. They will be bringing their kids with them, and I need someone to watch them. Normally I would ask your brother to do it…."

I snorted. Fat lot of good that would do. Shikaku would probably fall asleep only to wake up after the kids had trashed half the house. Shikako gave me a scolding look, and I attempted to look contrite. He didn't buy it for a moment.

"But I think it would be more beneficial for you to do it. Don't give me that Reiji-chan," he said sternly as I sighed, "I think a chance to interact with kids your own age will be good for you. And it will do me good to have your mother off my back."

I nodded meekly. A chance to interact with a bunch of noisy, smelly, irritating children that I couldn't get out of for at least an entire day. Ohh joy. If I was still back in London I would have punched someone for suggesting that I do something like this. "Okay, I will do it."

Shikako ruffled my hair again. "Cheer up Reiji-chan. It isn't the end of the world."

I grunted, looking down at the ground with my father's big hand still resting on my head. I suppose it was manageable. It would get Mikazuki off dads back and mine, I'd get my next book, maybe even afford me an opportunity to ask some people outside of the Nara some questions regarding their clans unique techniques.

"You know," Shikako said casually, "Most of the kids coming to the clan meeting are going to be training as ninja as well. I believe Kakashi Hatake is even further along than yourself."

I looked up at him curiously, wondering what he could be driving at.

"I hear that you've come to a standstill with your taijutsu lately. Maybe we can find a sparring partner closer to your own age."

He winked at me conspiratorially, "And a bit more willing than Shikaku."

You know what? While I might not actually need a father...

I certainly enjoy having one like Shikako.


Authors Note: So, this is the first real chapter after the introduction. I just wanted to ask everyone if they've enjoyed it so far, make a few points clear, and maybe ask what they'd like to see from the story as we continue onwards. A few things I've already decided on, but for the rest I'd like your input.

One thing I'm adamant upon is a firm friendship between Stephen/Reiji and Kakashi. I've always liked his character, and while I'm not going to make his life much better by giving him a solitary friend during his younger years, it would give me warm fuzzy feelings if he has someone to talk with after his father is gone.

The second is Stephen's knowledge of Naruto. Yes, you are correct. His knowledge of Naruto is precisely zilch. Nada. Non-existent. I was originally going to make him a bit younger, and maybe a bit less experienced. Give him an excuse for reading manga. Then I thought, why not try something new? Don't worry. I still have a way of getting him some foreknowledge so we can have our traditional fight against the timeline, fate, and others. But I'm putting a twist on it.

I saw that eye roll!

I know everyone says that and then comes up with a twist that's about as original as breakfast cereal, but really, I'll try and make this a unique experience for you. If its not, I'll make it up to you.

And the third. I know you all want to know what sort of changes Stephen is going to make. He is a criminal after all, and a rather experienced one at that. Old habits die hard, and to top it off he has a bit of an unapologetic love for power. Well, he isn't going to be a "good guy". Then again, just like he said himself, he doesn't buy into the idea of good and evil that much. What I will say, is that his desire for power might seem rather tame at the moment, but in the future it will definitely be getting him into a spot of bother.

Until next time, I eagerly await your opinions and suggestions.