Sunlight burns through his eyelids, and the sound of birds chirping drill into his ears. He turns over and digs his head into the pillow to go back to sleep. It is during this movement that his fingernails rip through the sheets beneath him.
Ma is gonna kill him for tearing up his bedding again.
Wait, who is Ma?
"Oi! Boy, you had better be up! Don't make me come get you!"
The scream resembles the cry of some kind of a demon, and he rolls out of bed in a desperate attempt to protect his life. He slams into a dresser that shouldn't be there and groans.
Staring up at an unfamiliar ceiling, he can't help but think that something's not right.
His nails scrape awkwardly against the wooden floor beneath him, and the sensation makes him examine his hands. He stares at tiny fingers tipped with small, sharp claws.
Mirror, he needs a mirror.
Upon getting to his feet―oh look, his toenails are clawed too―he's nearly knocked back down by an assault of scents. The unmistakable smell of dog hits him like a truck, and it mingles with wood and some other things he can't make heads or tails of.
Clamping a hand over his nose, he looks around. There's a bed, a dresser, and a small table filled to the brim with snacks but no mirror. All of the furniture is strangely colossal.
"Are you up yet?" The demon from earlier shouts.
Panic shoots through him at the sound of the voice, and he hurries to the door. Eying the doorknob above his head, he can only wonder: does a giant live here or what?
Poking his head out, he sees a hallway with doors to his left and right. He eyes them with trepidation.
I wonder where the bathroom is, he thinks.
As if to answer his thoughts, a particular smell suddenly overtakes his senses. He fights down the urge to slam the door shut. Wrinkling his nose, he steps out while regretting everything. The awful stench of urine guides him to a particular door.
His nose doesn't lie to him; he finds a toilet with a sink. There's a mirror hanging over the sink, but there's a problem he hadn't considered.
He's too short to even reach the faucet of the sink.
Climbing up the cabinet is a failure as is jumping. The only thing his efforts give him is a hurt gut. Eventually, he thinks to open the cabinet under the sink. He finds a footstool.
Feeling somewhat foolish, he uses the footstool to climb onto the countertop of the sink. He takes one look in the mirror and falls off, hitting the floor with a loud thud. The footstool goes flying.
"Stop playing around up there!" The demon hollers from somewhere below him.
He shudders. Oddly, there's more dread at hearing that particular voice than there is at the sight of his own reflection.
He climbs back up onto the sink for a second look. A tiny boy with red marks on his cheeks stares back at him. Slitted eyes look from shaggy, brown hair to absurdly sharp canine teeth. No matter what face he makes, the boy mimics him.
He knows this face from the manga book he was reading last night.
Inuzuka Kiba.
The odds of this being all a dream are next-to-none when he considers the pain he's currently in. He pokes at the red triangle on his cheek and feels the claw-like fingernail press into skin.
This is definitely not a dream, yet he somehow feels comfortable in this new body.
"I accept your challenge," he tells the boy in the mirror.
The last thing he sees in the mirror is a fanged grin before he jumps down to explore his new surroundings. He starts in the bedroom he woke up in―his bedroom now, perhaps―and digs through the dresser until he finds clothes that suit him. He changes out of the paw-printed pajamas into a loose shirt and shorts.
Chomping down on a cracker stolen from the pile of snacks on the table, he wanders through the hallway while checking each door. He discovers three empty bedrooms and a bathtub before finding a staircase that leads down.
He stops on the bottom step. A new, terrifying scent overpowers the strong smell of dog; it belongs to some kind of demonic being, and it smells angry. He gulps and follows the scent to a kitchen.
The demon waits for him with slitted eyes and arms crossed.
"About damn time, brat!" The demon looms over him with a growl. "You already missed breakfast, you runt! After what you did last night, don't expect me to feed you until lunch."
As much as he wants to deny any wrongdoing, his voice is stuck inside his throat.
(He also recalls stealing a bottle of booze and drinking until he passed out last night. Perhaps this is all karma.)
"You're going to be helping your sister out today to make it up to her. If you cause her any problems I will beat you until you can't stand back up. Are. We. Clear?" The demon snarls. Behind it, a large dog with an eye-patch shows off pointy teeth.
"Yes, ma'am," he squeaks.
"Ma, not ma'am. I ain't no lady, and mothers are far more frightening than ladies," his demon of a mother grins savagely.
The same shaggy, brown hair and red triangles look fiercer on the woman standing over him, and he can only nod frantically as her eyes narrow. Claw-tipped fingers grab the back of his collar quicker than he can react, and he's thrown outside.
"Don't test her today, pup," the big dog with the eyepatch says before his new mother slams the door on him.
He's left lying on the porch and wondering which trickster god he angered. Eventually, the overwhelming scent of an angry mother fades from his nose, and he breathes in the fresh air of grassy plains, dogs, and warmth.
It smells just like home.
He drags his nails against the boards beneath him and marvels at the fresh scent of wood that hits him. His nose tells him he's in a familiar and safe place. He relaxes and tries to get his thoughts together.
His instincts suddenly scream danger, and he scrambles to his feet.
"You runt, I'll kill you!" Shouts a young girl with red triangles on her face. At her heels are three identical medium-sized dogs, who seem to struggle between growling and howling with laughter.
"I'm sorry!" He squeaks before running off the porch and into a random direction.
"Grab him," the girl orders one of her dogs ruthlessly.
Considering his legs are the size of a math ruler, he never stood a chance. The dog grabs him by the back of the shirt gently with his teeth despite the killing intent rolling off the girl.
The big one will be punishment enough, one of the dogs barks happily.
He's dragged through a series of roads and houses towards a plain white building. Both people and dogs stop to laugh at him. It appears having the ability to understand dogs comes at a heavy price.
The girl, whom he assumes is his sister, shoves him through the door of what looks like a veterinary clinic. A bucket of water and a bottle of shampoo is slammed down in front of him.
"Get to washing," the girl orders, pointing towards a cage with a big, dirty dog.
He looks from the bucket to the drooling dog that seems to be completely made of dirt and fluff. That dog, he thinks, is bigger than a car. One of his sister's dogs lets out a snicker at his expression.
"I'm sorry?" He tries again.
"You sure are," the girl tells him with glinting eyes before opening the cage.
The big dog bounds out with a happy bark, and he only has enough time to hold the rag in front of him like the world's flimsiest shield before he's bowled over by fur and drool.
Despite his best efforts, he doesn't manage to get the dog he gets any shampoo into the matted fur is a miracle unto itself, he feels.
"Hana, don't you think that's enough, dear?" Some old lady asks, having wandered in to watch the show.
"That fan he tore up was the last thing Uncle gave me," his sister snarls as her three dogs throw her concerned looks.
"The boy was just jealous you were giving it more attention than him," the old woman remarks.
"Aunt Himawari, you just don't understand." Hana makes an irritated noise. "Because of the war―"
"Your uncle gave you the greatest thing he could. A peaceful childhood. Treasure it, and your brother even when he makes you mad," Aunt Himawari says.
Hana glares at his back as he continues trying to wash the 'Big One.' He's not sure why he feels so guilty for something he didn't do, but he decides to try and make it up to her by being on his best behavior.
It lasts only until he accidentally lets loose the entire kennel in the back of the clinic by way of an emergency switch. Hana saves him from the ensuing madness and drags him back to their mother.
Ma takes one look of his barely human appearance and his teary eyes before shoving him into the bath. He's too terrified of her to be ashamed at being washed like a child, and it's a relief to be told to sit obediently at the kitchen table for dinner. He can do that much at least.
A pillow in the chair props him up, and he soon regrets that thought.
He has to keep a hand over his nose; the smell of meat cooking causes him to salivate, and he can think of nothing else. Being a feral dog man has never been so difficult, he thinks.
The dining room begins to slowly fill up with strangers and their dogs. Some of the strangers wear red triangles on their cheeks, and some do not. They must be family. He hopes he's not supposed to know who they are.
Ma slams a bowl and a set of chopsticks before him. He looks at them blankly.
"Growing kids need protein, and you didn't eat earlier," Ma says, mistaking his stare to be aimed at the exuberant amount of meat stacked on top of the rice.
He waits until she turns her back to him before reaching out for the chopsticks. He only remembers how to hold forks and spoons, but his fingers automatically make the adjustment for him.
"Eat," Ma orders before carrying an armful of food to the dining room. The ensuing hollering and banging have nothing on Ma's responding, "Shut your trap!"
With no one around to witness him playing with his food, he experiments with the chopsticks. Muscle memory only goes so far; he finds this out as he gets rice all over his shirt. He doesn't stumble on the utensils long though; his fingers are way too nimble for the young age he appears to be.
When the flavor of the meat explodes on his tongue, he realizes once more that this is truly too real to be a dream.
He is, as of now, Inuzuka Kiba. And he has no clue how the manga ended.
Admittedly, he got pretty far, but he didn't have the motivation to finish the series until recently. He'd only picked it up again last night before putting it down to get drunk off his ass. He's never regretted a decision more.
Well, who knows. Maybe this world isn't the one from the manga. There was an anime, games, novels, and―yeah, time to stop thinking about it.
He can confirm that he is currently the young son of the Inuzuka's clan head, and that magic ninja seems to be a thing. Unfortunately, he's not sure of anything beyond that.
What to do, what to do, he thinks as he slowly empties his bowl.
He waits until he hears the alcohol being brought out to climb down from his chair. Striding into the dining room, he stops before the low-sitting table and crosses his arms. Looking up at all the strange faces and fuzzy muzzles watching him with anticipation, he declares,
"From this day forward, I am a new man. My name is Inuzuka Kiba, and it's nice to meet you."
He keeps his head up against the sudden laughter that fills the room. A woman with silky, purple hair wipes a tear from the corner of her eye.
"Tsume, I think there's something wrong with your kid."
"You mean the part where he ain't a man," Ma snorts before chugging down a cup of sake.
More laughter breaks out at that remark, but he continues to stand there with his arms crossed. His cousins, aunts, and uncles take one look at his tiny, chubby and serious face before introducing themselves with humor; their dogs follow and introduce themselves in turn.
No one, not even Hana, tells him to go back to the kitchen. One of his uncles even moves over so he can have a seat.
The remainder of dinner is loud and noisy. The few that get drunk make themselves sick from laughing too hard. His mother snaps here and there, but she doesn't hide her smiles. Even when arguments break out, there's a feeling of togetherness he's never experienced before. It awes him.
Well, except for one thing.
Eying his sister out of the corner of his eye, he notices that she pointedly doesn't look at him. That weird feeling of guilt comes back. Even if the old Kiba is the one responsible, he'll have to bear the burden of destroying a precious memento.
As of now, for good or for ill, this is his family to deal with.
"I'll do my best," he says quietly once everyone's attention has wandered to a new subject.
He begins his plan of attack after morning exercise. He wanders out of the house and walks around until he sees someone he recognizes from the day before.
"Uncle Taro, help me," he says, grabbing onto the man's pants before he can run away.
"Oho, what's the problem, little man?" Uncle Taro booms down at him while scratching his bushy beard.
"I need to make the world's best apology gift," he says with utter seriousness. "It's gotta be something awesome."
You'll be wanting the missus for that one, Uncle Taro's sleek-furred dog comments.
It takes three months to get Hana's apology gift together. What started as a project between Uncle Taro and his wife quickly spirals out of control until most of the Inuzuka clan is pulled into the mess.
Hana stops being mad at him two weeks in, but it's too late to stop the crazy train that he unintentionally started. One of his cousins goes from learning how to make roofing nails to ninja weapons, and an aunt puts out the search for a rare flower that consumes the sanity of another ninja clan.
By the end of it all, he pretty much knows everyone in the family compound by name, has won two fistfights, lost fourteen, and established a reputation as 'Stupid but a Good kid.'
"Hey, Hana," he says, shuffling his feet and futilely trying to hide a box behind his back.
"What?" His sister snaps out.
He doesn't take it personally. She's trying to read a medical textbook as big as his head, and with the way she's squinting and mouthing out words, he doesn't think she's succeeding.
"Hurry it up. I'm busy," Hana says when he stays quiet for a touch too long.
In the three months he's gotten to know his sister, their relationship is neither good nor bad. It's probably the age difference. Hana is older only by five years, but it feels like an uncrossable chasm at the moment.
"I'm-sorry-and-this-is-for-you-please-don't-hate-me," he says in one breath.
Dropping the present in front of her, he attempts to sprint to the safety of his room. Hana catches him around the neck with one hand, and opens the lid on the box with the other. Her dogs crowd around them excitedly.
"Just what kind of prank are you playing―" Hana's words die in her throat.
She lets go of him to pick up the metal fan with both hands, and he scurries to watch from the safety of the doorframe. Hana drags a finger over the words painted in the same style as the fan she lost.
"How did you, no, who?" His sister stumbles on her words.
"Aunt Harui found the artisan that made Uncle Seishisai's fan," he says quietly. "I know it's not the same but."
He was hoping to get a similar replacement, but the metal weapon fan is a far cry from the original cloth fan given to Hana. This, he blames solely on his cousin, who suddenly decided to become a weaponsmith.
Hana unfolds the fan and swings it around to test its weight. She ends her martial arts kata by snapping the fan closed with an unreadable expression. Her dogs praise the quality of the weapon noisily without a care for their partner's feelings.
"Are you really my brother?" Hana asks wryly.
"Can I be?" He replies hesitantly.
Hana rolls her eyes and spreads her arms.
"Get over here, runt."
He only hesitates for a second before rushing forward and hugging his sister around the middle. She runs a hand through his hair, and he knows he will do whatever it takes to keep her safe.
"There's a new litter of puppies at the clinic. Come see them," his sister says, pulling him off of her gently.
"Okay!" His eyes light up at the word 'puppies.'
...
His sister undoubtedly thinks that bringing him to the clinic was a mistake. It's not his fault that his soulmate happened to be there.
"Kiba, get out of the cage," Hana says with a sigh.
He shakes his head before moving farther back into the cage. A tiny, warm body shakes in his hands, and he runs a fingertip over an itty-bitty head. The resulting squeak melts his heart.
"Put the puppy down," his much older cousin, Toshiro, orders from beside Hana.
He doesn't know how to say that he is physically unable to do that. He glances at the small, blind puppy in his hands and makes a high-pitched whine in the back of his throat.
This is the one, something inside of him says.
The puppy shifts ever so slightly at the sound he makes, and the distraction costs him. Toshiro reaches in, grabs his ankle, and yanks him out. He holds the puppy close to him just as his head bangs against the floor.
"Careful!" Hana barks as her dogs perk up behind her.
"Settle down, kid. It's the runt of the litter. The mother's already abandoned it," Toshiro snorts.
The casual words make him see red. Using his other leg, he kicks at the hand gripping his ankle. A painful current of electricity rushes to his foot, and Toshiro lets go of him with a yelp.
His cousin's dog makes the mistake of growling a threat at him.
"Let's go, Haimaru Brothers!" Hana orders before launching herself at Toshiro, and her three dogs jump Toshiro's dog.
Keeping a gentle hold on the puppy, he scuttles out to the front of the clinic. He beams down at the white puppy squeaking in his hands.
"She's the best sister ever," he tells his new companion, "and I'm going to be the best partner ever!"
His new partner isn't allowed outside the clinic until he reaches a certain age, but that's okay. They can't leave the compound for another year yet. He can wait another few months.
He runs a gentle finger over his partner's head and whispers,
"Let's go, Akamaru."
Yes, for those familiar with Together to the Future, this is a rewrite.
Confession time: I lost all my notes and research for TttF. I also wasn't pleased with the original's pacing, and worked too hard trying to cover the original Naruto's plotholes, retcons, and timeline mistakes.
Instead of giving up altogether, I decided to re-write it into something better.
My dear friend, I know this probably wasn't what you wanted for your birthday, but you are the reason I still want to continue on with this story. So, even if it's slow-going, here's to you!