Disclaimer: I own nothing but the general plot and the OCs

Aaand another almost entirely unedited ramble. I'm probably going to start including mini time skips next time to move things along because I'm cool with how I've set up their relationship for now.

At some point slightly later on I will also include some Kakashi pov chapters looking briefly at what he remembers of this time, because obviously Subaru doesn't understand the entirety of what's going on. Also he's being the emotionally withdrawn and emotionally inept loner that I think he was around this time, so whatever he's feeling on the inside isn't really coming across yet.

Finally, let me know what works for you and what doesn't, or any other thoughts you have. If there are any prompts you have for moments/scenes you'd like to see in the future I'll do my best to accommodate.

Chapter 4 - Leave Me Alone I'm Lonely

I honestly wasn't sure what to expect during my first day with DFB, but it certainly wasn't complete and utter boredom.

If the day was DFB's way of starting as he meant to go on I would likely become a problem child very quickly. I did not deal well with boredom.

I inevitably fell asleep some time after I was fed bland milk, and generally woke in time for the next feed as hunger dictated.

In between those times, it seemed my body had kicked into gear after my first... (just say it) my first bowel movement, and I had become something akin to uncontrollable crapinator that babies were known for being. Each time, according to our established silent agreement, I would shout out a single "AH!" And he would rush me to the toilet.

Of course that didn't do anything about the deep discomfort and upset I felt about being watched doing my business, and then touched down there afterward, still dirty, in order to be cleaned up. I couldn't prevent my cries with each experience, but consoled myself that at least it wasn't the messier more terrifying option of actually requiring the cloth torture for its specific purpose.

As for DFB himself. Well... he ignored me. It was as simple as that. I was placed back in my corner of the bed, sometimes with the blanket covering me and sometimes not, depending on how hot it was, as DFB sat on top of his covers, leaning against the back wall and read what I assumed to be Icha Icha, with a determined concentration, and avoided looking at or touching me unless he had to.

I wasn't particularly bothered to be honest (I need to be alone So overwhelmed). I needed that full day to come to terms with what had happened to me, in any manner. So yes, I was bored, but only until I gave in and thought deeply on what I knew, to transfer it from knowledge to understanding.

I had been reborn (displaced). I was incredibly unhappy about this. There was nothing I could do about it without killing myself. I wouldn't kill myself because I understood it would likely deeply emotionally damage Kakashi- emotionally damage DFB (until my need to not exist outweighs my empathy). The place I had been reborn resembled the fictional world of Naruto from my first life.

I guessed I was probably in an alternative reality, or universe or whatever it was called (not home). I knew there were theories out there about multiple universes or realities in which every possible sequence of atoms existed... or something. I wasn't a scientist, I'd gotten the basics of the theory, but if asked to explain it to someone I would do a terrible job (I'll never find out now The knowledge is out of reach My home is out of reach).

Either way, the upshot of it was that I didn't think the idea of there being an existing universe in which something closely resembling the Naruto story occurred, was actually far fetched at all. It made what seemed initially like a ludicrous premise surprisingly plausible.

My presence, on the other hand, was unexplainable from anything I'd heard of. According to my incredibly simple understanding of what it meant to be a human person, I shouldn't exist (I miss my home).

At least not with all my memories in tact. The way memories formed ensured I should have been a blank page in terms of them, even if I had been reborn, thanks to my new physical brain. It didn't make any sense to me... yet here I was.

Maybe I wasn't her. The original me. Maybe I was sort of like a clone, in that the original me was dead and gone permanently, or perhaps had even been resuscitated back home, and I was some sort of recreation of the original who just had her memories (maybe nobody misses me Maybe there's no one to miss).

Fuck, I didn't know, and I likely wouldn't ever find out. Either way, I was here now, and I doubted I was ever getting back home (I want to go home). And even though I felt like I shouldn't be here, someone had once told me that everything that ever happened in the universe was always going to happen, and so beating myself up about the way life went was utterly pointless, because I was always going to do what I did and what happened to me was always going to. It had something to do with the fourth dimension, and frankly I hadn't been listening because I wasn't sure at the time if I had enough money for the bus.

Also he was justifying why he didn't feel bad or apologise to our tutor for the missing coursework over the year; according to him he was always not going to hand it in.

But the point was that I was here in this world because I was always going to be here. Was that how it worked? Well even if it wasn't, it made me feel the slightest bit less shitty so I'd stick with it.

Coming to terms with the fact that I was absolutely almost definitely stuck in this new life (alone) - that this was it now- was extremely difficult. Everything was different (not right), including things that I had completely taken for granted would never change. Fundamental aspects of my life and the ways I had justified my actions, my motivations, my reasons for carrying on every day, were just gone (I want to go back). Kaput, nada, nothing. My entire history, my existence, everything and everyone that proved my life had left a permanent mark on reality, and reality had left a mark on me, was gone (I'm completely alone).

All that was left was my sole mind. My memories, my personality, my values and beliefs, my feelings, my thoughts. They were all I had now. And it was all so intangible and ephemeral, that I couldn't help but think I didn't really have anything at all (I miss everything).

I didn't really know what to do with it (there's nothing to do). With the nothing that I had (there's no end goal). With the nothing that I essentially was (Nobody knows me). A remnant of an existence, a reality, a universe, a history and world that I had no proof existed beyond myself (Nobody cares and I care for nobody here).

I hadn't really believed in myself on the best of days, even surrounded by all the support in the world. Too busy doubting (there's no point).

It was so... lonely.

After an evening bottle, I intently eyed the one person I was familiar with in this life. The man I suspected was my biological father. The person I was quite likely stuck with for the foreseeable future, and wondering what I should feel toward him.

He made eye contact with me, and rather than discard me once more to the mattress beside him to continue reading, he eyed me back with his one black eye. His gaze was intense, but everything else about him radiated impassiveness, and there was no hint of affection, or attachment, or softness that I could find.

He didn't look like a father looking at his kid, or at his relative, or even a stranger looking at a child. He looked like a shinobi holding a baby. An inherently discomfiting image.

I wondered what I was supposed to feel about him; resentment that it was because of him that I wouldn't make the choice to kill myself? Attachment that he was all I had in this new unwanted life? Love that he was probably my new family and was the one who was there to feed me and help me and sleep next to me?

But we stared at each other as strangers, and in that moment I felt nothing.

With something akin to disappointment (sadness) weighing me down, I turned my gaze away and didn't look at him again. Instead, as he placed me back on the bed and turned to his book, I lay listlessly, staring at the ceiling, and lazily poked and prodded at the calm ocean of grief that lay underneath the numb nothingness I felt, wondering what to do with it (nothing There's no point).

The emotional turbulence that had plagued me since I had woken up that very first time, the ever present anxiety and stress that had tightened my chest and raised my heartbeat, could only sustain itself for so long. In my real body that could be an entire couple of months. In this body it was 24 hours.

Even the horror that overwhelmed me and had me wailing every time I was forced to... (Just say it. It was only one word) to... go (goddamit) could only continue on for a few times, until I became too emotionally tired for anything other than mild dread and deep resignation.

That was the overarching feeling that began to blanket my awakening hours - a sort of dull resignation.

I noticed that in response, the body I was in gradually stopped crying at the emotional discomfort of being watched using the toilet, and cleaned afterward. By the next morning, it had pretty much stopped crying at all.

I couldn't help but be glad that the racket I couldn't stop this body from creating had largely ceased, and it gave me back the slightest sense of control. If all it took was a general plateau from my emotions to stop acting outside of my say so, then I would focus on emotional control all I could.

If anything, that tiny kernel of control that I had accidentally grasped made me hungry for more. I wanted to be able to talk, and I wanted to move. Two things I knew weren't supposed to happen for months at least.

Perhaps that would be the same for this body, but I didn't see the harm in trying anyway. I'd likely need some input from DFB in this, which I was reluctant to rely on at all, but he was all I had as a resource, so he would have to do.

I didn't bother looking past those two goals. I had no plan past that. There was nothing I desired, other than to move by myself and talk. Once I had those two, my reliance on DFB went down significantly.

I waited until the sun had risen, after being fed a bottle, to attempt to engage DFB, for any interaction I could glean from him. It would likely be slow going, but if I had to choose one or the other, I wanted movement first.

After the bottle had been removed from between my lips with a pop, I squeaked to gain his attention. Surprised, he paused and looked at me, probably waiting for a sign I needed the toilet. I began to wriggle the little body, this time with purpose rather than my previous frantic panic filled flailing. The movements were slow, imprecise and jerky, but they were movements nonetheless.

The legs felt annoyingly restricted by the cloth torture, but it was an obstacle I knew I would have to work around to get what I wanted. The range and strength of the arms were more impressive than expected and I had high hopes that they'd get me upright far sooner than the legs.

Unfortunately DFB was fucking clueless and frustratingly uninterested, placing me back on the bed once he had established I didn't need anything obvious. He didn't go back to his book as I thought he would though. He rifled through The Bag, and fetched what I soon saw was a baby outfit.

I wondered why he was clothing me today, when all of yesterday he had had no problem with me being as good as naked.

It took a little bit of wrangling, but DFB was surprisingly adept at getting all of the limbs in the right place to fit the outfit correctly, even if I noticed he did his best to provide minimal contact between us.

And then before I could blink, he was gone. Of course not being able to see him didn't mean much with these shitty unfocussed eyes, but I couldn't hear him either. I lay there, dressed and baffled for a few long minutes, before DFB returned as quickly as he had left.

Except it wasn't DFB. The man had brown slightly messy hair, and weird markings around his eyes, stretching down both of his cheeks. He also had no mask. My eyes widened is surprised concern. Why was a stranger in DFBs flat and why was he picking me up? Was I being kidnapped? Where the fuck was DFB, the useless asshole?!

I let out an inadvertent noise of alarm, and was quickly silenced when DFB's voice came from the stranger. He lifted me level to his face, and although even his eyes were a different colour, once I was close enough to his face, I spotted some similarities in it's general shape.

My alarm died down swiftly, and left behind nothing but confusion. I was held to DFB's torso, and was slightly comforted by the familiar smell, but my confusion increased as he picked up The Bag, and a small pile of papers from the desk, that I was certain hadn't been there the day before.

When had they gotten there? Had someone dropped them off without me noticing? Or... had that stupid bastard left me when I was asleep, alone, helpless, and picked them up from somewhere?

For some reason I suspected the latter, the irresponsible fucker.

The beginnings of my internal grumbling were cut short as DFB opened the window and jumped out. There was something thrilling about being in the hold of someone jumping from such a high height, and going up, despite what logic told me should have happened.

I watched from the security of DFB's arms as he soared from rooftop to rooftop at an impossible speed. My heart was lodged in my throat and the wind buffeted my face slightly uncomfortably, but I immediately fell in love with the feeling. It was the closest to flying I had ever done.

My eyelids slipped to half mast in order to protect my eyes, and for a moment, I almost felt peaceful. The journey was all too short, to my dismay, and we soon landed surprisingly softly on the street outside of a building.

My shitty eyes couldn't make out any details of the building as we approached it, but it seemed fairly colourful. As we entered inside, I began to feel a tiny seed of worry unfurl in my gut, but pushed it aside.

DFB approached a reception looking area, and began talking to someone I couldn't make out, but was apparently a woman by the pitch of the replies. He placed the papers he had grabbed before we left, down on the desk in front of us, with a few comments.

The woman leafed through them, and seemed to agree with something. I wasn't sure what was happening, but I couldn't help but feel a slight fear of the unknown.

She stepped around the desk and led DFB down a corridor, talking to DFB all the while, as they discussed things that he seemed to find incredibly important, if the unusually focussed edge of his voice was any indication.

She stopped in front of a door with a colourful sign on it that I couldn't make out, before opening it quietly. Inside were more adults than I could easily see, but it certainly wasn't packed full.

What drew my attention though, was that in the nearest adult's arms was a baby. The woman holding the baby placed it down in a weird child play pen prison thing. The worry in my gut grew stronger.

With both the woman and the receptionist person talking to DFB, I was certain I heard the name "Subaru-chan" thrown in there multiple times.

The discussion between the three seemed to take both only a few minutes and an age. Either way I dreaded to see the outcome of it's end.

I strained my gaze upward to look at DFB and tried to express with only my eyes how bad a feeling I had, but he was too busy talking to the women.

Eventually talking stopped and he looked down at me. An inscrutable emotion flickered momentarily in the corners of his mouth, the arch of his brow and around his eyes. But it was back to impassiveness before I could think on it.

And then I was being handed over to the woman (don't leave me here). His fingertips seemed to linger for a second on one of the baby hands, before he stood back and regained the aloof demeanour he wore so well (don't leave me).

For a few seconds he watched me quietly and listened to the woman who held me, before he replied to her with a few short words (please), and then turned and walked away, sans Bag and sans baby.

The blooming worry that had settled in my stomach as a cold, sad understanding briefly contorted my features into crumpled distress.

However, I regained control of my emotions before it was stripped from me in the form of crying. The woman spoke in a singing tone at me all the while- her unfamiliar scent, hold and voice put me on edge, before she placed me on my back in a crib, and then walked away (he left me).

The cold, sad understanding settled back into a dull resignation, as I realised that I was either in a very nice orphanage or a day care centre. Either way, there was a way for DFB to wash his hands of me for good or for a good portion of every day, and so I would have to rely on only myself if I wanted to fulfil my goal of independent movement.

I allowed myself a few minutes of placidly lying on my back, and staring at the ceiling, wondering if DFB was ever coming back for me (if he isn't do I give permission to kill myself), before I got to work clenching and unclenching my fists rhythmically, as the first set of exercises I had chosen for myself, in order to gain motor control (alone).

So if you're wondering (probably not) about why Subaru isn't swearing as much in this chapter, it's because, like me, when she's genuinely hurt or upset or feeling vulnerable or exposed (not necessarily angry or freaked out or panicked or outraged) she goes a bit quiet on the swear words.

Also Kakashi put on a disguise because he doesn't want anyone knowing he's got a little kid out there.