When I woke I was in a tent full of other children. Most were still fast asleep on stretchers.

It took me a moment before I remembered what had happened.

Calming my breathing, I tried to hear the sounds of war or the feeling of the vile chakra outside – but both were gone. It was quiet and almost peaceful, the air saturated with the sounds of snoring kids.

I surveyed myself. Arm in a sling and bandages wrapped around my joints and head. I didn't feel so bad, though. I wondered if I was medicated.

Or was it that green energy that lady spread over me?

I caught sight of a dirty mirror over a basin of water. I wanted to see myself. Was I really even me anymore?

Testing my feet, I slung them over the side of the bed and hobbled to the basin. It didn't hurt, but my limbs felt stiff.

My reflection was murky until I rubbed the grime off with one of my bandages. The girl who stared back at me, however, was not one I knew.

My skin was paler than it had been in the "real" world, but clearly tanned. My naturally paper-white complexion was darkened and flecked with freckles from days in the sun. My hair was long and black, hanging limp in a curtain around me. It felt thick and shiny. Back home, my hair had been thin and brittle. This hair shined a bit even after all that had happened. My eyes were brown, but not dark like the boy with the one eye – they had a feeling of fire in the hearth, brown, and orange, and yellow.

My matchstick girl. I remember my father calling me. My father of this world. Ren's father. The whole thing was jumbled in my head.

The most notable thing, however, was clearly my age. It seemed I was in fact about a kindergartener – five or six. I was a small one, too. Not tall enough to reach the top of the mirror, and rail thin, the hints of muscle slapped on bone. A plain white nightgown hung to my knees in tatters. I tensed one of my thin arm muscles - the feeling bringing forth a memory of helping mom and dad in the field.

I used to call myself a country girl, but this is a real country girl. I looked tired for a little kid, and suddenly my heart ached for her.

Poor Ren. Such a tough life already and now I've stolen it. Guilt pooled in my stomach. It's not like I'd killed her or anything, but I didn't feel much better. I'm a thief.

I looked at the girl's eyes in the mirror – little fires enveloped in darkness – and I whispered, "I'll do you justice, Ren. I promise." And I don't break my promises.

It was funny to hear the girl's voice speak in Japanese. The words tumbled out easily even if I didn't know what I was saying. I supposed whatever she had learned now belonged to me. I wondered if that extended to words she didn't know.

"Antidisestablishmentarianism," I muttered, the longest word I knew. It came out in accented English. Hmmm. I suppose vocabulary is a problem I'll deal with later.

If there is a later, that is. I still couldn't quite tell if this was a dream, or an afterlife or . . . heck, reincarnation or something.

For now I'd roll with it. Nothing else to do.

I hobbled back to my stretcher and hoisted myself up, flopping onto it with an "oof." I laid down and closed my eyes, still trying to get a handle on (imagine me waving my little broken arms around) . . . everything.

My injuries seemed fine. So, I was in no immediate danger. And my memory of the anime told me that we would be safe for a while if that fox was contained.

That means Naruto is a baby. I'd seen much of the series through a couple times, thanks to all the little kids who'd demanded it, but I still couldn't really remember what was supposed to happen for the next decade, or so. They didn't show Naruto as a toddler, much, did they? He was just a baby and then: poof! A Genin.

My eyebrows furrowed. I suppose that would give me time to get used to this new world, new language, and new magic system.

My chakra. I recalled at once, feeling the quiet stream of it in my veins.

It was a bit unnerving. I had always felt I could sense my own soul, but this seemed more real. Like I had a new limb I never knew about.

I wanted to be able to do something cool with it. I remembered Naruto creating shadow clones. Maybe if I tried…

I focused on myself, imagining another identical little girl poofing into existence right beside me. I focus on the energy in me. I urged it to create my clone. I strained, pushing as much energy as I could into it until –

POOT!

I farted.

With a blush I opened my eyes and realized there was no clone. My chakra mocked me, streaming through my body just as quiet as it had been before.

Well, maybe a shadow clone is too advanced. So should I try something simpler than that? Maybe I could make a little ball of light, or a puff of air?

I tried both to no avail. Every jutsu I could think of. Nothing worked.

No wonder those kids have to go to the academy, I thought. This is hard work.

I was annoyed, though, my chakra was right there. I could feel it. It was like it wanted to be used and I just couldn't figure out a way to channel it.

My efforts were interrupted by the boy next to me. He was only a toddler, maybe two or three, covered in bandages and bruises, a tuft of bronze hair peeking out a protective helmet on his head. Man, he's had it rough.

I looked around. I caught sight of one medical-nin who had fallen asleep in the corner. He snored quietly, blending in with the kids. I rolled my eyes.

It was very early in the morning, and surely the shinobis and medics alike were stretched thin given the nature of the attack.

The Hokage has just been killed, I remembered grimly.

The boy continued to cry, and it hurt. I always hated seeing people upset – I was terrible at not internalizing it. When someone else was sad, I usually felt sad, too. But this was even worse. It was like I could feel his chakra – but it wasn't warm and tangible like mine. It felt like an emotion.

Pain. Fear. Loss.

His cries emanated with the feelings, a cloud of upset all around him. It was suffocating.

I slid off my bed, used to crying children, and found myself resting over him, just big enough to peer into his eyes.

"It's okay," I whispered patting him on the head with a little hand.

He quieted for a moment and his eyes opened, as if expecting to see his mother. His eyes were bright green and wide. I smiled at him, feeling the chakra lighten for a moment.

Before it went sour again. He wailed louder.

I sighed, "shh, shh…" He probably just lost his parents, too. I have no idea what he witnessed last night. I hoped a baby wouldn't be able to remember such things.

My patting and pacifying wasn't working however, and his chakra was beginning to infect mine, making it feel hot and annoyed. My little body couldn't stand it, too uncomfortable. I needed to let it out. But I had tried and didn't know how!

Then I felt it growing, burbling out my throat.

I wanted to… sing? I suppose it would be the usual way I would have pacified a student.

I picked the first song that came to mind – the lullaby my mother used to sing me. "Somewhere over the rainbow, Way up high…"

I tried to stay quiet enough not to wake the other children, or the man in the back. My voice warbled, high-pitched. These vocal chords might not have been used to singing, but I certainly knew how to handle them. Perhaps I didn't have the strength or vibrato my real body had, but there was something sweet about hearing this little girl croon.

"There's a land that I dreamed of once in a lullaby."

He sniffled, no longer crying, staring up at me with his big green eyes. My own chakra calmed when I felt his do the same. As I sang, it was as if I was trying to wrap him in a hug with my energy, telling his that he would be safe, too.

"Somewhere, over the rainbow, skies are blue, and the dreams that you dare to dream really do come true."

He shuddered and his eyes closed, falling back into an easy sleep. I sighed. His chakra was calm, again and so was mine.

I felt a drained, more than I should from just singing. I pulled myself back up onto my stretcher, thinking.

The little boy's family had died, huh? I peered across the room at all the sleeping children. Theirs too?

And mine. I realized, the gravity of the situation weighing on me at once. I wasn't an adult here, I was at the mercy of whatever system was already in place in this odd, archaic world.

The medical-nin mentioned an orphanage. I pictured a horrible place, like Oliver Twist. The only food is gruel, we sleep on stone, and are beaten by nuns.

I shivered. Maybe it was smart to try to escape before the adults came back, but then I looked across the room. The little boy next to me, sleeping soundly now, a bit of drool dribbling from his chubby baby lips. The kids around me ranged from infants to preteens. They looked so much like my students, but from a different background. Harder ones. Could I really leave them all like this? If we were facing something bad, wouldn't it be better if I could maybe help?

I sighed. It's not like I had anything better to do. I couldn't even remember this part of the story and I was still a little kid myself.

I heaved out a weary breath - a funny sound coming out of someone as young as me.

Then I thought about what I had lost, too. Honestly, I didn't have much in my last life. Mom had passed years ago after a battle with breast cancer. I never really knew my dad and Mom didn't like to speak about him. No siblings or family around. My life was just work. My friends were more acquaintances to pass the time.

I only had my students and my music. That was it.

I grimaced, I hope the students were okay after what they had witnessed. I felt horrible to have left them like that.

And my music was still with me, wasn't it? I could still remember my songs. Maybe I didn't know how to translate every word to Japanese just yet, but I could work on it. And perhaps this body wasn't strong enough for what I wanted to do, but I could practice. No instruments was the hardest hurdle, but that wasn't much. I could get those in time.

Yeah, I still had my music, at least. And these kids. I looked across them again. Maybe they could use me more than my own students. They certainly have less.

Nodding, I made up my mind. I wouldn't abandon them. I would stay at the orphanage, and if I had to try to help them, I would.

If I couldn't, I guess they were no worse off, at least.

But that didn't mean I had to stay in this tent with a sleeping guardian. Foolish adults, as if kids won't just walk off when you're not looking.

Which is exactly what I did. I wandered from my place, tiptoeing as quietly as I could past the other patients, toward the tent flap.

What I saw (and felt) outside was chaos. Ninjas of all ages and creeds helped repair the city. We were on the outskirts of the thick of it. From my place I could see demolished buildings, scorched walls, and bodies being vanished into scrolls. Medics and shinobi alike ran around, healing, hauling debris, cleaning. They were all nearly silent, however, I realized in awe.

I wish I could do that.

As I stepped forward, however, my slipper-clad feet make crackling sounds in the dirt below. As I padded closer, it seemed the shinobis immediately noticed, on high alert.

Two who were carrying wood stopped.

One signed at the other using a single hand, the other signed back. Then they both looked at me.

"YOSH! A sproutling has survived!"

Just as silently, a teen shinobi loped over to me, his huge muscles seemed almost jelly like, as if running didn't even tax them. He stooped in front of me and I nearly fell back. He had a black bowl cut and thick, squared off eyebrows. He wore an unmistakable green jumpsuit.

Gai. He had always been my favorite.Optimism was a soft spot for me, given all the hardships I'd witnessed and wanted no part of.

"H-h-hi." I whispered, nervousness crept up on me as if I was meeting a celebrity.

"Where did you emerge from, small one? This is no place for a delicate flower like yourself!" He lifted me high, eliciting an unintentional giggle. I suppose there is a six-year-old brain somewhere in there, still.

Unable to speak I pointed behind me at the tent I had just walked from. His face went dark for only a moment. He probably knows that's the medical tent for orphaned children.

"Ah, yes, well, perhaps it is the best place for you, now. How about I escort you there?"

I sighed, it was inevitable an adult would stop a rogue child. I would have done the same.

"Oh, don't look so down, Sprout!" He tipped a finger under my chin, smiling back at me with a 100-watt grin. "The future is bright with youth for you!"

At that, I heard a sigh behind him. The shinobi he had been carrying wood with spun around to look at us. He was a teen too, or perhaps a young adult, wearing a bandana over long brown hair, his eyes perpetually half-shuttered, a senbon hanging from his lips. Like a young Johnny Depp, I was sure he was popular with the teen girls around here. That said, he didn't seem to have any time for Gai's version of "youth."

"Just get the civilian out of here, Gai. We have more to do."

Man, what a charmer. My lip curled and I glared unintentionally at the long-haired man. He raised an eyebrow in response, perhaps amused. "You'll be fine, kid." He said as Gai started me back toward the tent.

He set me down by the flap, patting me on the head in a way that was both sweet and a bit too hard. I shook my hair out after the blows.

"Train well, little Sprout. I will see you again, soon! I can feel it!" He gave me a final pose, a big thumbs up with a dazzling smile before rushing back to the other man – lifting twice as much wood as him in one arm alone.

I shook my head. What an odd encounter. This really was Naruto's world.

I pursed my lips, being trapped in the orphanage probably meant I wouldn't see them anymore after this, though. Shinobis rarely interacted with civilians in the show, and I had never seen them so much as step foot in any orphanage.

Out of the corner of my eye I could see someone watching.

When I turned, I nearly thought I saw the same dog mask from yesterday, but as soon as my eyes focused, the figure was gone.

How odd. I thought. Maybe I had taken a serious blow to the head last night and now I was seeing things.

That, of course, was only the beginning of my encounters with familiar characters. The more unpleasant ones, however, were all yet to come.