Kyoko stared at the thatch ceiling of her room. It wasn't particularly exciting, but she was too emotionally (and physically to an extent) exhausted to do anything else. Hell, even if she didn't feel like death warmed over (not funny brain, not fucking funny at all), her new parents (new parents, Jesus fuck, she had new parents because she died and reincarnated, fucking fuck), would not be letting her out of their sights for the foreseeable future.

Only a real shitty parent wouldn't become overprotective after their year-old toddler almost died (kill herself, you tried to kill yourself, dumbass). Kyoko's new parents were definitely not shitty. They were fucking amazing, in fact. They'd definitely earned Parent of the Fucking Century for taking care of her horrible ass.

Her first six months were kind of a vague blur for her. Her adult consciousness hadn't been able to really process what had happened to her, let alone her new baby brain trying to do it. For all, she knew she could have acted like a normal baby. Then the weird limbo haze she'd been in lifted, and awareness slammed into her like a truck. Or a bomb.

She spent the next six months living in denial, refusing to believe she wasn't just dreaming and would wake up at some point. Then she tried to expedite the process by killing herself 'cause you can't die if your dreaming. She probably could have picked a better time than her first birthday, but she hadn't exactly been thinking clearly.

For fuck's sake, she wasn't even sure if she proved anything. She didn't die (this time; ugh, shut the fuck up) after all, so she could still be stuck in some kind of coma dream.

...

Yeaaaah, she was just gonna stop those thoughts right fucking there. That way lay more madness than she could reasonably handle. Best to focus on the here and now and just fucking accept her current circumstances as reality until it was proven false. Said circumstances being that she is a reincarnated thirty-six-year-old merc stuck in an infant body in an alternate universe she thought was fictional.

She could practically see her sanity being dragged away, kicking and screaming. Maybe she should just stop thinking, full stop.

Kyoko sighed, a great dramatic heave of a thing. That was an unproductive line of thinking, she should do something else. She forced herself to sit up. At least she'd been sort of productive during her denial phase and had excellent motor skills for a one-year-old. After all, how else could she successfully off herself if she couldn't toddle around?

Shit, there went the unproductive line of thinking again. She just couldn't stop herself, could she? Jesus fuck.

Kyoko heaved another sigh and pinched the bridge of her nose, shaking her head at herself. She dropped her hands into her lap when the fusuma* separating the bedroom from the rest of the house slid open. Her new father (Dad, just call him Dad for fuck's sake this is your reality now, deal with it), balancing a wooden tray in one hand, stepped inside.

Ah, perfect timing. She could start to put her new Be the Best Daughter Ever plan into action. Much better than her Let's Kill Myself To Prove I'm Not Dreaming plan. Why the hell had she thought that was a good idea?

"Da!" Her tongue is clumsy, heavy in her mouth. She hadn't put as much focus on her speech development skills as she had her physical development, and it showed. It pissed her off something fierce. At least she didn't have to worry about a language barrier; her parents spoke something similar enough to Japanese she understood ninety-percent of what they were saying. Context clues and common sense helped with the last ten-percent. Silver lining and all that.

Dad startled, nearly upending the tray he held. His eyes, a deep beautiful brown, widened, and he sucked in a sharp breath.

"Kyoko!"

Kyoko mentally winced. The utter relief in his deep voice had guilt churning deep in her belly. God, she was such a bitch for putting him and her new mom (just Mom, Jesus get it together dumbass) through hell. She swore right there, whether this new life of hers was reality or just a coma dream, to make it up to them by being the best damn daughter she could be.

"Da!" She repeated and held out her hands, making grabby hands at him. "Dada!"

Dad rushed over, setting the tray with its wooden bowl full of broth on the floor beside her futon. As soon as his hands were free, Dad gathered Kyoko in his massive arms; and she wasn't just saying that because she was barely toddler-sized. The man's biceps were bigger than her whole torso. Dude was built like a grizzly bear.

"Praise the spirits," Dad breathed against the top of her head. He cradled her close and rocked back-and-forth. "We thought we lost you, Kyoko."

He sniffled, and the fine hair at the top of her head grew warm and damp, and—oh shit, he's crying!

Fuck me sideways. Kyoko's guilty grimace was hidden against his chest. The full ramifications of her stupidity really started to hit her. That churning in her gut became a heavy pit. I am such a fucking jackass.

Kyoko did her best to wrap her little baby arms around his big ol' barrel chest, pressing her cheek into his soft tunic. "No cry, Dada. M'fine."

She's not sure how much of what she said was actually intelligible, but he must've gotten the gist because he cried harder. Whoops. She'd just wait it out; it was the least she could do for scaring the ever-loving shit out of him. Unfortunately, her stomach took issue with that decision. It sounded more like an angry grizzly than the hungry stomach of a toddler.

"Oh!" Dad gasped and pulled back, settling her carefully on his knee. He held her in place with one of the catcher's mitts he called a hand and used the other to wipe his face. He offered her a watery smile, "I'm sorry, Kyoko, you must be hungry."

Kyoko bobbed her head. That was an understatement. She's sure her parents fed her to the best of their abilities while she was unconscious for however long it's been since her dumbass attempt at taking her own life, but she was starving.

"Food!" Kyoko clapped, earning herself a smile from Dad. It softened his rugged features and revealed an adorable pair of dimples she hoped she inherited. "Omnomnom..."

Dad cooed, clearly charmed by her adorableness, and picked up the bowl of broth. He chuckled when Kyoko made grabby hands at it. He helped her hold it since her limbs were still kind of weak from her convalescence and because babies aren't all that strong, to begin with.

"Mmm..." She hummed, happily and obnoxiously slurping the broth down. It was delicious. Kinda fishy, so probably a fish broth and not chicken.

"Not too fast," Dad warned, voice soft and warm and full of so much love it made Kyoko's heartache. "Don't want to get a tummy ache, do you, little Kyoko?"

Not really, considering she still had that nasty guilty pit in her stomach, but she was hungry enough to ignore it. Still, she forced herself to stop inhaling the broth like a vacuum and took slower more moderate sips. Dad hummed his approval, his eyes warm and still so very relieved as he looked at her.

Ah, there's the guilty pit in her stomach. Making its presence known with a vengeance it seemed. Annoying little fucker.

Once her hunger was sated, real exhaustion kicked in. Damn her tiny baby body, she'd just woken up! How was she going to enact Be the Best Daughter Ever if she couldn't stay awake?!

Okay, whatever, she'd go the fuck to sleep. Be the Best Daughter Ever could start tomorrow.

Grumbling mentally, she pushed the bowl away with a yawn, eyelids drooping and slumped against Dad's chest. He murmured something and carefully shifted her from his lap back into her futon, pulling the blanket up to her chin. She rolled onto her side, nestling deeper into the blankets.

"Get some rest," He brushed the short, fine strands of her hair aside and pressed a kiss to her temple. "I love you, my little Kyoko."

Her heart clenched, and she had to blink back tears; damn her baby body and its inability to handle strong emotions without tearing up! She listened to him, pick up the tray then walk out of the room. The fusuma slid shut with a quiet rasp.

Kyoko didn't know if she could love him like she'd loved her father in her previous life, but, well, it couldn't hurt to at least try. She doubted it would be hard, and it was the least she could do since she'd effectively robbed them of the chance to have an ordinary kid with these reincarnation shenanigans. Which brought another concern to mind. Should she be concerned by how readily he seems to have accepted her personality shift? Maybe it was a coping mechanism; just ignore the fact that your kid's personality did a complete one-eighty after nearly dying and be grateful that she only nearly died instead of straight-up actually dying. Didn't seem like the best coping mechanism to her, not that she had room to talk about that what with her six-month-long Bitch Fit of Denial (or BFD for short).

Gah, this was not a productive line of thinking, and she needed to knock it off right now and go to fucking sleep. She was absolutely determined to live this new life (even if it wasn't real fuck off it is real) to the absolute fullest. Firmly shoving any uncomfortable thoughts away, Kyoko closed her eyes. Thankfully sleep came and swept her away immediately.

"Come back soon, Auntie! I love you!"

…

…

When Dad woke her the morning after her official return to the land of the living, Kyoko determinedly did not think about her dreams. That life was gone, and she'd decided to stop looking this gift horse in the mouth.

Instead, she smiled, babbled nonsense, and cuddled her father as soon as he picked her up. His wide, beaming grin was the best thing ever. He said something about eating breakfast with her mom before she left on patrol. Fully committed to her new role as Best Daughter Ever, Kyoko made happy noises and demanded her "Mama!" repeatedly.

Pleased as punch by her liveliness, and still not the least bit suspicious of her abrupt personality change, Dad toted her out of the bedroom they shared and into the family living room on the other side of the fusuma.

Mom sat at the irori* in the middle of the room in full Kyoshi Warrior armor and warpaint (which is far more intimidating in reality than in the show), sipping tea and staring out the open shoji doors. Beautiful and regal and hella intimidating, she was the picture definition of a proud onna-bugeisha*.

Kyoko couldn't believe she'd spent a year being a little bitch about her situation when she could have been basking in the pure badassery that was her mom. God, she was a fucking idiot.

"Yoko!" Dad called, catching Mom's attention and snapping Kyoko from her self-criticizing. The excitement in his gravelly voice was adorable. "Look who's awake at last!"

Sharp, jade green eyes outlined by the sharp wings of black and red paint cut towards him, then shifted to Kyoko cradled in his large arms. Mom's expression didn't change a lick, but her eyes softened, and her relief was just as palpable as Dad's had been the night before. Clearly, she was the less emotive, but no less emotional parent.

She set her teacup down on the low table beside her and stood.

Shit, she's so tall!

Kyoko gawked, looking her up and down. She had to be at least six-and-a-half-feet tall, and that was without shoes since that was the only part of her uniform she wasn't wearing. Goddamn, Kyoko hoped she inherited her height. She'd been short in her last life, and now she had the genetics to be the fucking giantess she always wanted to be!

"Mama!" Kyoko chirped and wiggled in her dad's arms.

That had her mom pausing mid-step, eyes narrowing slightly.

Shit, did she do something wrong? Maybe she should have tried to ease into the whole Best Daughter Ever thing instead of jumping in with both feet? Kyoko had just assumed her mom would be too relieved she was alive and coherent to be suspicious of her personality change like her dad was. Shit, shit, shit, what should she do?

Kyoko decided to wing it.

"Maaaa! Mama!" She flashed a semi-toothy smile and reached out, making grabby hands. That worked on Dad, hopefully it'll work on Mom.

"Yoko?" Dad asked, curious, and confused. He closed the distance between them and, shifting Kyoko into a one-armed cradle, touched Mom's cheek, "Is something wrong?"

Mom's eyes softened, and she dipped her head. "Of course not, love. I was just surprised. I know you said she spoke to you last night, but, well..."

She trailed off, and Dad nodded in understanding.

"You didn't want to get your hopes up."

Mom hummed, neither agreeing or disagreeing. She turned her attention to Kyoko, and she forced herself to keep smiling and making grabby hands. Her mother smiled, just a small twitch at the corner of her painted mouth, and the wary light in her eyes dimmed until it was almost nonexistent. Almost. Ruh-roh.

She swept Kyoko from Dad's arms and into her own. She cuddled her close and murmured, "Good morning, little one."

Kyoko cooed wordlessly (just to be safe) and snuggled deeper into her embrace even though it wasn't all that comfortable. The Kyoshi Warrior uniform she recalled from the "fictional" story in her last life had been less, well full samurai armor-esque. As it was, all her mom needed was the helmet, and she'd be a dead ringer for one of the onna-bugeisha of her last life. As it was, she wore a very familiar-looking headdress instead.

Mom kissed the top of Kyoko's head, "I'm so glad you're alright, little warrior."

Ah, hello guilt, my old friend. Kyoko hid her grimace by pressing her face against Mom's armored shoulder. Just another reason to be the best damn daughter she could be. Mom hummed, rubbing her back, and toted her over to the irori. She sat cross-legged in her previous spot on the floor and settled Kyoko in the bowl of her legs.

Dad dished out some kind of rice porridge from the iron pot sitting on a metal pot stand in a corner of the irori and passed Mom a bowl and a pair of chopsticks. Kyoko did not get a bowl, but Mom carefully fed her from her own. Kyoko would have preferred to just slurp the rice porridge out of her own bowl, but if feeding her made Mom happy, she'd go along with it. She got her own cup of tea at least, and she was allowed to hold it in her lap and drink it by herself. Silver linings all around!

Mom and Dad didn't talk while they ate, but Kyoko wasn't surprised. Much of the Avatar-verse had been based on Asiatic cultures, and Kyoshi Island in specific had some distinctly Japanese influences. Kyoko didn't mind, it gave her time to inspect her parents in a way she hadn't bothered to during her BFD.

Dad had the kind of rugged features that suggested he spent a lot of time outdoors. It made his age hard to pin down, but Kyoko was willing to bet he was somewhere in his mid-thirties, maybe early forties at the oldest. She was also willing to bet the grey salting his dark brown hair, and the shadows under his eyes were her fault.

Mom's age was indeterminable thanks to her flawlessly applied warpaint, but Kyoko would bet she wasn't much younger than Dad. The warpaint couldn't hide her strong jawline and killer cheekbones, though, or the fact that her nose has been broken one too many times. She kept her black hair in a loose tail that went halfway down her armored back. Actually, the more Kyoko stared at her, the more Mom started to resemble how Kyoko imagined Avatar Kyoshi might look in real-life...

Part of her hoped it was just a coincidence, but a much larger part hoped it wasn't. How awesome would it be if she was related, no matter how distantly, to the woman who was arguably the biggest badass in the Avatar-verse? It'd be awesome as fuck, that's how awesome it would be.

Her musings were cut short when Mom picked her up and plopped her into Dad's waiting arms. She hadn't even noticed Mom feeding her until the little bowl of rice porridge was gone. So maybe that had been her bowl and not Mom's. Hell, her tea was half gone too!

"Mama?" Kyoko questioned, looking away from her half-empty teacup and up at Mom curiously.

"I have to go patrol, little warrior," Mom said as she stood. She brushed invisible dust from her armor, then moved closer and bent over, dropping a kiss on Kyoko's forehead then one on Dad's lips. Her lipstick didn't smudge or transfer to either Kyoko or Dad. Kyoko would have killed to have such a fantastic product in her last life.

"Be careful, love." Dad murmured into the kiss, caressing Mom's cheek with his fingertips before she straightened. "I've heard the Fire Nation traders have been getting bold whenever they dock at the harbor."

Fire Nation was what now?

Wait, where the fuck was she in the timeline?! Shit, why hadn't she wondered that before?

…

Ah right, a year of denial. Double shit. She needed to figure out when she'd been born, like yesterday. Was she pre- or post-Air Nomad genocide? Based on her father's statement, she'd guess post-genocide, so the real question is how far along in the Hundred Year War had she been born? Early, middle, near the end? Jesus, she really needed to figure this shit out.

"Hmm," Mom shrugged noncommittally, utterly unaware of Kyoko's internal panicking. "Yes, but it's nothing my Warriors and I can't handle."

Dad was not reassured by that at all if the frown twisting his mouth was any indication. "Still..."

Mom sighed and kissed his forehead, "I'll be careful, my love."

"That's all I ask."

That distracted Kyoko from her fretting. Awww, they were so cute and so obviously in love.

Mom kissed her forehead again then disappeared out another door Kyoko assumed lead to a genkan* or something similar to one. And just like that, Kyoko and her dad were left to their own devices.

Hopefully, it wouldn't be awkward.

Enjoy!

*A sliding door similar to shoji with the primary difference being that fusuma are made of thick, opaque paper

*Sunken hearth

*Female samurai

*Traditional Japanese entryway where outdoor shoes are left with a secondary function as a place for brief visits without being invited across the genkan step into the house proper.