Disclaimer: I own nothing but the general plot and the OCs
Hey, another rambling largely unedited chapter.
Let me know what works for you and what doesn't, or any other thoughts :)
Just a brief explanation that she generally thinks of the fictional character she knew about in her first life as Kakashi, and the guy in front of her in her second life as DFB, or whatever other charming nicknames she inevitably comes up with.
I know it's incredibly slow moving at the moment but it will pick up a bit eventually.
Chapter 3 - Shit Gets Real
When it came to pulling off my baby development miracles (because fuck acting like a normal baby, I would go insane), I was relying on three significant factors.
Kakashi's complete lack of exposure to babies and thus the rate at which they usually developed.
The usual laws of what was acceptable and normal being off the charts thanks to the weirdness that surely existed due to Chakra fucking around with people's lives.
The existence of geniuses being not only slightly dime a dozen but also kinda ridiculous in the speed at which they learned.
Not only that but I was aware of people's tendencies to brush off weird things their kids did growing up as either just being kids or a sign that their children were unique, and not look into it any further. I was desperately hoping that DFB would lean more towards that than ninja paranoia with me.
(Oh fuck no no no I need to-) And then there was another part of me altogether that just wanted desperately to believe that all of these similarities and resemblances to the Naruto universe were merely cosmetic, and went no further than skin deep.
Beyond the few things I had seen so far, (Give me more time I need more time I'm not ready for this I don't want to-) I had no actual proof that the world I was in was actually similar to the original Naruto at all- beyond at least one person being born the same, the existence of the same headband and the ability to jump across rooftops at a ridiculous speed.
This could well be a world that was merely heavily similar to the story of Naruto, but if it continued as it was already going, would follow a completely different series of events.
In fact, I knew there were plot holes within Naruto, particularly when it came to the ages of certain characters, and when they graduated. (This stupid fucking body why why why it hurts I need-) The timeline was plotholey, and the anime at least (because even though I was kicking myself for it now I had never read the manga) had been set up initially with characters lacking knowledge in ridiculous ways, in order to allow people to learn alongside them and get a good basic understanding of the world.
Even if this universe followed Naruto as closely as feasibly possible, there would still be differences right from the start. There had to be, because if 12 year old kids with years of education and two top scoring students lacked the basic understanding about fundamentals when it came to being a shinobi, as Sakura, Sasuke had Naruto had, I would fucking gouge my goddam eyes out with a rusty spoon and give this world up for dead (I can't I won't I won't do this anything else not this there has to be another way of-).
No, I would gouge their eyes out with a rusty spoon, burn down the academy, and give this world up for dead.
And if this world really was like Naruto through and through, plot holes and all, well... the only explanation would be that those real life plot holes were glitches in the matrix that I'd be keeping my eyes out for.
That would be a whole other sort of problem.
As it was I couldn't really assume that this new life was the Naruto story in any way that I would recognise, until I saw each familiar piece of said story with my own eyes. (Oh no no god no DFB you stupid fucking bastard read my mind and help me stop this do something please don't make me-) To reach any other conclusion before the evidence was right in front of me would be ridiculous. To allow unproven conclusions to dictate my choices and restrict my actions based upon notions such as 'sticking to the plot' would be stupidity to the extreme.
Besides, any idea of this being a universe following the original Naruto story went to shit the moment I was born. (It hurts it hurts it hurts I can't stop it-) Even with attempts to keep things recognisable, I was guaranteed to change things from what I knew. It was inevitable, and so there was no point in beating myself up or stressing myself out over something I couldn't do anything about (not that I wouldn't fall into the trap of doing that occasionally anyways).
So any notions of me being an alien, or not belonging in this world were also ridiculous, and to indulge in useless thoughts such as those would be me being self pitying, pathetic and probably giving myself greater importance in the grand scheme of things than was at all true (not that I wouldn't fall into the trap of doing that occasionally too).
Right, that was one existential crisis cut off at the ankles before it truly began. (I don't feel good I can't do this it will make me sick I'll be sick no no-) Thank fuck for that, I had way too many of them anyways on a good day. The last thing I needed was my brain trying to convince me that it was somehow my responsibility to "fix things" as though I was what broke the world. Fuck that.
As I repeatedly told myself when I was feeling overwhelmingly guilty about shit I couldn't control- I really wasn't that important, and to assume I had such a great impact on the world that the existing problems were solely my responsibility would be the height of arrogance. I could only ever do my best (no no please please please god I can't I can't please fuck please no).
And then the ranting I was doing in my head stopped working.
A cold sweat had broken out all over, I was panting and light headed. It hurt so badly that I couldn't prevent the shaking of this stupid fucking- oh god it hurt. My face scrunched in distress, and wails broke out as my stress mounted.
Saliva built in the back of my mouth, and my stomach churned unpleasantly- like a hard ball of anxiety flipping and bouncing. My shaking and breathing grew heavier, my limbs twitched and waved impotently.
I was stuck. I couldn't do anything but dread the inevitable any second. This was worse than the diaper. So much worse. I couldn't do this. Please I didn't want to do this.
This was going to destroy me. I felt so sick and it hurt. I couldn't do anything. I couldn't do anything. I was powerless. I screamed and screamed and couldn't stop - almost didn't want to stop.
This wasn't the plan. I had to stop screaming or it would all be a waste. I couldn't go through this more than once. I had to calm down - just a fraction, just enough to stop screaming for two seconds.
The limbs tingled like they had pins and needles, and even though I knew the face I wore was burnt red, the cheeks and the chin and the nose tip and the forehead were shocked cold and numb.
My mind began to pull back, just enough that a small thought flickered through the pain- I had to do this. I had to do this because there was no other option, not for me. I clung to that fleeting thought and fed it an unreasonable determination. Then I took advantage of a deep breath the body was automatically taking to fuel the screams, forcing the eyes open to stare right at DFB (who at some point had come to lean over me and stare -likely with bafflement, the useless fucker) with a mien of concentration, and forced the reluctant vocal chords to emit a single, loud, nasally, "AH!".
And then, to my eternal horror, I allowed the muscles to let go, and in the early hours of my first morning in this fucking world, I... I... (Oh fucking hell I had to just admit it to myself. Just one word) shamalamalamat myself (goddamit).
I took deep, gasping, panicked breaths. But I managed to maintain a weak facade of being okay. The limbs were still tingling the face was still numb, and my mind felt like it was yanking itself in any direction it could to prevent thinking about what had happened (I feel sick I feel sick get it off me get it off me get it off me now now now please).
DFB didn't take more than a few moments to guess what had happened, thanks to less than discrete sounds this awful fucking body had produced in the moment (I can't do this anymore Please get this off me right fucking now It's on my skin It's touching me I can't handle this)
The shaking limbs and gasping breaths didn't abate one bit, and my mind felt tenuous in its grasp of reality. DFB didn't waste much time in lifting this disgusting body from the bed, arms outstretched from his body and placing it on the cold surface of his desk. He unstrapped the cloth torture and unfolded it till it lay mostly flat, as these stupid fucking eyes began to roll unstably in its head (I don't feel good I'm going to be sick).
DFB recoiled briefly at what he saw, and that added humiliation was the last straw for me. I felt the stomach roil, the mouth salivated, the throat contracted and vomit spewed all over the body, before it burst into hysterical screams once more. There was something disturbing about the screams this time, that even I noticed, as I drifted to the back of my mind.
Somewhat shell shocked and yet snug, curled up in the corner of my mind, I noticed tiredly that the screams coming from this body seemed to have a visceral layer of horror, terror and hysteria. The already stressed baby throat strained further under the screams that seemed to share unadulterated emotional agony.
I didn't know babies could make such a frightening heart stopping noise. Perhaps they couldn't. Maybe it was just me. Either way, DFB definitely noticed it from the quietly worried and somewhat frantic sounds coming out of his mouth, as he tried to quickly mop up this poor excuse of a body and seemed to struggle to do so.
I watched with a distantly disturbed fascination, as whatever he was doing down there clearly wasn't working well, and just made the baby scream harder. If that was possible.
It was almost as amusing to watch him struggle as it was disgusting to be in a body covered in gunk. Surely he'd been covered in difficult to get off substances before, that he had a reliable method of removing such things.
Either way, my plan had better have worked because this was taxing to go through, and more overwhelming for my coprophobic mind than even I had suspected. If I had to do this again, I might just shred the throat with the stress it was going through.
Huh, I missed the rest of DFB's shitty struggle (heh), and he had baby wipes this time to clean the face, neck and torso. I wondered if he would use the cloth again today, and I'd be able to see the mysterious water source. It would give me a good idea of where the nearest tap was.
Why was that relevant again? Something about baby baths and sinks. I couldn't remember. But at least the clean up was done and a clean cloth torture had been put on. When had that happened? I couldn't remember that either.
DFB appeared to be unsure what to do with a still screaming baby, and I almost felt sympathetic for him. Except I didn't, because it was kinda funny watching him flap about and try not to be too obvious about it.
I didn't know how long it took for the baby to stop crying, but I knew that throat would be a bitch to deal with for at least the rest of the day, and by that point, despite it's now fairly empty stomach, I could feel the body slowly shutting down from overwrought exhaustion. When DFB tentatively picked it up I could see matching tiredness in his half mast eye, as he looked at me in an oddly expressive mixture of annoyance, hope and worry.
I figured we could both use a good nap, and so didn't fight the urge to sleep. I had a suspicion I'd probably be doing a lot of that over the coming weeks. It was irritating to have such short awake periods in which to assess my situation, but at the same time sleep was a welcome escape each time it arrived.
Especially when my only other option was the continued companionship of the clearly unenthused DFB, after the shameful debacle that he had just witnessed from me. So, placed once more down on my spot in the top corner of his bed closest to the wall, and a blanket covering me, I barely eked a yawn from the baby, before I was fast asleep, tucked safely away in my head.
It wasn't long later, when I woke for what felt like the hundredth time from hunger pangs, that I saw results from my plan.
Immediately I released the new familiar, nasally "AH AH!" shout, that had DFB releasing a miserable groan, before sitting up.
After expressing a long, sleepy sigh, and hanging his head for a moment, he got out of bed, rustled around in what I had dubbed The Bag, and climbed back in with a bottle of ready made boring but filling milk. He had been an efficient learner over the night, and had quickly established that when I shouted shortly twice, it meant I was hungry, as well as the fact that it was easier for him to grab and prepare the milk without removing me from the bed, and feed the baby body once he was back under the thin covers.
As he held the little head in his lap and almost expertly attached both human and bottle, I felt a familiar and yet unfamiliar pressure. I recognised immediately what it meant, but was briefly confused by how it could feel so new because of this body.
Either way, unwilling to traumatise myself for a second time that morning if I could help it, I detached the lips from the rubber top, and tested DFB's vaunted genius, by shouting out a single "AH!" and waited with bated breath.
He looked down at me, confusion clear in his lone uncovered eye, before I practically saw the connection fall into place in his mind and it shot wide open in alarm. Clearly he was just as reluctant as I was for a repeat of the morning, as the bottle seemed to vanish from his hand and he swept me up in his grip at the same time as he vaulted out of bed.
In less time than I could comprehend, we were in a bathroom, the cloth torture was gone, and I was being held over a toilet by a hopeful DFB. A little flustered at being watched, but far more pleased with myself, I released my bladder, and determined that I would never wet myself if I could help it.
I may have just become, quite possibly, the youngest baby in this world to be a semblance of toilet trained, but from DFB's relieved noise, and the first genuinely positive emotion I had experienced since waking up in my second life, it was well worth the risk of Shinobi paranoia.
Unfortunately, a few seconds later, with my chest heavy in embarrassment as DFB had to wipe me, I realised my plan was not entirely foolproof.
Nevertheless, I was a goddam boss, and at least DFB had proven himself not to be a total fucking liability. I was almost impressed with him actually. Almost- not really though.
So just in case you were wondering (because I wasn't) apparently the first time (possibly first few) a baby craps it's not really crap it's the stuff they swallowed whilst in the womb that's coming out, and it can be super sticky and messy and difficult to get off. Hence Kakashi's struggle. Poor guy.
Also COPROPHOBIA, which is mentioned here, is essentially the fear of crap. Subaru has it, which explains her complete freak out #2. She is disgusted when she sees it- even images - and even more so with smell added in. She can't touch it without wanting to throw up and afterward scrub her skin raw. Crapping in front of someone horrifies her. The idea of getting it in her mouth is enough to make her sick. With the added trauma of the situation she has a massive overload.
I'm also coprophobic so this chapter was a bit difficult for me to write, but anyone knows babies are reknowned shit machines so I couldn't just pretend Subaru magically doesn't do it, and I wanted to get it outta the way as fast as possible. Also this is probably genuinely what I would do in that situation with the solution. Fuck subtlety.