By the time I was almost four I had reached the point of being a nearly fully functional human. I was most relieved to finally be ditching diapers, but it also made me feel better to be able to have full control over a host of other little things such as picking my own clothes, going on short outings in town without an adult, and having enough vocabulary to fully communicate my thoughts. I was still mastering writing, but I had the dexterity now to hold a pencil and form characters that were at least legible.

At some point, I had begged Tsume for enough money to buy myself a small, blank book. Ostensibly, it was meant to be used as a diary, and I guess that's what Tsume though I was using it for. I even had begun to refer to it as my diary if it came up in conversation. What I really used it for was recording the increasingly fleeting echoes of my past life. Sometimes I drew pictures, which weren't exactly beautiful pieces of art - but they got the point across. Other times I would write carefully in English. I say carefully because I had to concentrate when I was writing. While my mind remembered how to write the letters, my hands weren't used to the actual action, but the more I practiced the easier it became.

It was like finding an old machine all gummed up with dust and debris, cleaning it out, and coaxing it back to life. The end result was immensely satisfying. I even found that some of my memories became clearer the more I wrote. On the other hand, writing in English not only kept my outlandish ramblings firmly to myself, but it was also strangely isolating. It's not like I could talk about these epiphanies of memory with anyone around me.

Sometimes after I wrote out whatever memories I had recalled of my prior life, the sadness really settled in, and I wouldn't be able to stop the tears. The crying mystified Tsume, but she usually just let me cry it out and then would take me to get some ice cream. If that failed, Kiba's adorable demands to tell him where the boo-boo was usually were enough to make me start laughing, banishing the tears back into the dark corner deep within my heart.

This creeping loneliness wasn't the only cause for tears. The weird double vision phenomenon I'd experienced that first training session with Shikaku had occurred dozens of time since then in a variety of different ways and places. Sometimes it was useful, sometimes it was confusing, and sometimes it gave me the creeps for days. At first I thought it was just memories of similar occurrences in my last life, but, usually, that wasn't enough to explain what I was experiencing.

At first, it wasn't that bad, but as the year went on, my episodes grew increasingly intense. Now, whenever it would activate, I would end up with a migraine level headache and nausea that would leave me barely able to function. I guessed that it somehow stemmed from the mental strain of trying to separate what was real and what was just my ghostly second sight. At one point, Tsume had me in the Konoha Hospital for a battery of tests to see if they could figure out why I was a miserable, headachey ball of queasiness and spite, but the results were 'inconclusive' which is just a nice way of saying they didn't know jack shit about how to help me.

I tried my best to power through so as not to overly worry my family, but, as I approached four years in age, the double vision that I experienced was increasingly frequent alongside the debilitating effects. It was also unpleasant in a different way. This second vision was horribly real, even offering me sensations beyond just my sight. Sadly, most of what I saw wasn't clever ways to solve cute puzzle boxes. No, much of what I saw with my second vision was truly horrible. You try calmly shopping with your mother at the grocery store while the Kyuubi rages and murders people around you. Sure, it wasn't real, but it looked and smelled very real to me with the tang of blood in the air, the smell of smoke, and the screams of people long dead. At first, it had just happened some of the time, but these days, almost every trip to the grocery store, I got to watch the same awful scene unfold again and again. Frankly, I really hated grocery shopping these days.

On a more positive note, I had also spent a lot of time with Shikamaru and Shikaku over the past year. To Kiba's delight and the Nara's horror, the quiet boy got dragged into our Inuzuka physical training sessions. Depending on their schedule and missions, Shikaku and Tsume would take turns training the three of us. Shikamaru was, thankfully, just as bad at Tsume's sessions as I was, but it was nice to have someone struggling along next to me while Tsume pressed Kiba on to the next goal.

"Ugh." I sighed and picked at my clothes. It was mid-summer and Konoha was humid and sticky. "It's disgusting out here. I just want a bath."

"Same," Shikamaru muttered as he let himself slide down a tree trunk into a sitting position. We were both still panting from running the required twenty laps for the day. Granted, we had both improved. At first, I'd only been able to run five.

I flopped down next to Shikamaru with a weary sigh, "I don't think I can move anymore. I don't know how Kiba does it. Forty laps. And so fast."

"Your brother's a monster."

I giggled at Shikamaru's assessment. "He is pretty ridiculous."

"Actually, you're both monsters, just different kinds."

"Eh?" I turned on Shikamaru with a wrinkled nose, leaning into his face with a pout, "I'm not a monster!"

"Says the girl who almost beat my dad at shogi the other day." He grumbled a little as he added, "I want to beat my father before you do."

I blinked as I watched his face transform into a disgruntled frown. Then I began to giggle, leaning back on my hands as I grinned at Shikamaru. He was the closest thing I had to a friend. Brothers don't count, obviously. "I guess that means you're a monster, too! The same kind as me!"

"Nah, you're a girl version. You're way creepier."

"What? You think I have girl cooties or something?"

He paused and glanced at me from the corner of his eye, "Maybe. At least you're not like the other girls - the ones with bows and stupid dresses and … Yeah. You have fewer girl cooties. Your mom, too, definitely fewer cooties. Meh." He shrugged and then added, "I guess I'm saying you're okay or … whatever. Less annoying than most girls."

"Thanks." I chimed in my high pitched little girl voice, "I like you too, Mr. Grumpy-pants. You don't have as many boy cooties as those other boys. Like my brother, yuuuuck."

He snorted and waved a hand at me, a wordless signal to just shut up already. I was more than happy to oblige. I liked the silence between the two of us that came after training hard. Leaning back, I pulled the small bag I brought to training closer to me. Shikamaru's eyes were closing, the siren call of sleep pulling him in with its indomitable grasp, and soon there would be little noise except the sounds of his breathing and the whispers of nature.

I kept the blank book with my English ramblings, the quote-on-quote diary, with me most days. Smoothing open the pages, I turned to where I had left off, my eyes flicking up to the words I had painstakingly written early this morning.


I dreamt again of my old life last night. It all seems more and more like a dream and less like the truth, but I'm still certain that I really did live before. These words that I'm writing now are proof enough of that. A language I did not learn in this life. Written characters that are not used in the world I now know. This small thing is hard evidence of what I sometimes doubt.

Last night's dream was of my family. My mother and father were quite old, and I had two younger sisters. I think I was older when I died though my exact age eludes me. I can recall working several jobs and being unhappy with most of them. I think, perhaps, I was lost and didn't know what to do with myself. In my dream, or perhaps I should call it an echo of past memories, my father was telling me how I should find a 'real' job then later my mother was telling me to follow my dreams. I guess I was getting conflicting messages from them.

In a way, I'm glad that my future job is already decided here. It seems like it was an annoying thing in my last life. I will be a ninja because that is what all clan children become. I guess some people would find the idea of being a ninja scary, but to me it's exciting. It's not because I like danger or want to die, but because I can tell in my previous life I never really got to live. If I can change one thing, it would be living life fully - even if it's short.


It was a little embarrassing to go back and read what I wrote, but my feelings had not changed since this morning. I wanted to live this life as well as I could, experience as much as I could, and when I died this time, if I was reincarnated again, I want to be able to look back in my next life and say, yes, that was a good life. I didn't want to die just to look back and regret my decisions again. Yes, I regretted the past, or what I could remember of it.

Below this initial entry, I added some words that had been rattling around in my head which were from bits and pieces of my dream that really didn't make sense. Heck, I was having problems remembering details about my family from my past life. So, I really wasn't surprised that I couldn't even remember the name or exact details of the anime I'd been reincarnated into at this point. Like the repeating Kyuubi attack at the grocery store which I saw, again and again, there were other half memories that seemed to be connected to this world, but it was all very nebulous. What I saw were things that I assumed were actual scenes or occurrences from that nearly half-forgotten anime I had watched a literal lifetime ago. Some I saw with my ghostly double vision, but other pieces were in my dreams only. To complicate things, these were mixed up with other half-remembered impressions that could have come from other animes or even books. The list read as follows: Slytherin, Akhenaten, Hebi, Naruto, and Saiyuki.

I chewed on my pencil as I stared at the list, idly circling the word 'Naruto' and then 'Hebi' as the only ones that seemed like they really belonged. How did I know these were more important than the others? I had no idea. It was just a gut feeling. Were these names? Names of people? Names of things? Hebi literally meant snake, but I frowned and suddenly circled the word 'Naruto' again. That was the name of a ramen topping… but it seemed somehow more important than that. Still, I couldn't seem to peg down why my brain felt that word was the most important. What was I forgetting?

Giving a long sigh, I flipped the pencil around in my hand and frowned at the page, only to jump practically out of my skin as a voice spoke near my ear, "Huh. Coded." Shikamaru was leaning over my shoulder, his sharp eyes narrowed as he studied the book. "Why coded?"

"Nora-chan writes in code?" Another voice sounded to my other side, and my gaze snapped around, eyes widening as I realized Chouji had also joined us at some point. About mid-year, the Akimichi child started joining us for Shikaku's mental training sessions. The extra boy gave Shikaku someone to pair Kiba off with. He hadn't ever joined us for physical training with Tsume, but his own father was apparently handling that.

"Where did -" I spluttered, "Hey, wait!" I pulled the book away from Shikamaru, hiding it behind my back before either boy could study it any longer. "I-it's my diary, you idiots!" I stuttered out, my face flushing at their stares.

The two boys exchanged looks, and I yelped as Chouji suddenly grabbed me in a bear hug, "Take the book. Leave me here! It's for the good of the village! We have to figure out who she likes!"

"When did this become playing ninja?!" I wailed, struggling against Chouji's grip while Shikamaru pried the book out of my hands and pranced away with a huge smirk as he held my dairy above his head.

Flipping it open, he made faces as he flipped through the pages, his frown deepening with each page he looked at.

"Come on, Chouji! This isn't fair! Lemme go!"

"Sorry, Nora-chan. I owe Shika-kun a blood debt. So just - ow - sit still and stop kicking my stomach. Hurry up, Shika! The Inuzuka's going to bite me!"

Indeed, I was trying to do just that. I had picked up a few bad habits being around Tsume and Kiba - and one of them was biting when all else failed.

"I can't figure it out!" Shikamaru complained as he flipped through my diary. "This is like … Jounin level code or something."

"Hahaha! That's impossible! Nora's an Inuzuka. They don't do hard codes like- ooof." Chouji paled as I snapped the heel of my foot into his stomach.

Though Chouji thought it impossible, Shikamaru was staring at me with a strange expression as if he was reconsidering everything he knew about me. Then an older boy wearing a hitai-ate around his forehead appeared behind him and plucked the book away.

He had black hair and matching black eyes with deep lines under them. He wasn't very old - not even a teenager yet but maybe he was one of those rumored early graduates from the academy. His eyes flicked over a single page, and then he snapped the book shut without a word.

Everything was silent for a moment, and then, "OW!" Chouji yelped as I took the distraction and sank my teeth into his arm. He loosened his grip enough that I was able to wriggle free.

"Sorry, Chou Chou!" I yelled back as I ran over to the older boy, holding up my hands as I asked, "Can I please have my dairy back?"

"Hmmm." A faint smile tipped up the corners of his lips, and he sank to a knee, offering me the book back with a small nod of his head.

"Thank you." I used both hands to reclaim it, hugging it close to my chest. The older boy studied me for a moment and reached out to smooth down my hair which had gotten pulled out of its braid into a messy rat's nest from my struggle with Chouji.

"Think nothing of it, Inu-, no, Nora-san." Glancing up, he added with a calm smile in response to Chouji's wailing about my bite, "If you boys don't want her to bite - you should be nicer. It's not honorable, after all, to take a girl's diary."

As I glanced at Shikamaru, I saw that he was staring up at the newcomer with a sort of quiet respect, finally scuffing his foot against the ground and shrugging as he looked away, "Yeah, okay, Uchiha-san. It was an annoying diary anyway."

"But it huuuuurts. I think I'm gonna die!"

Shikamaru sighed dramatically and trudged back to Chouji's side. "She didn't even draw blood! You're not going to die. Geez."

"Um. Uchiha-san?"

He glanced down at me and grinned, "Itachi. Call me Itachi."

"Itachi-san, um, thank you again."

"Hmm, no problem." His eyes squinted as his grin widened.

"Oy, why's Chunks here acting like he's dying?" My mother's voice loudly interrupted the quiet-spoken boy as she landed in a cloud of dust and slowly stood from her crouch.

Shikamaru yelled back, "Nora bit him while we were playing ninja!"

Tsume's narrowed eyes flashed to me, and she leaned forward to study my face for a serious moment before laughing loudly, "You're learning! Good job, kid! Take every opening and show those boys what you can do!" Glancing up she added, "Yo, Itachi-kun. Wassup?"

Clearing his throat, the older boy commented, "Shikaku thought I ought to pay a visit before tomorrow."

Tsume's brow slid up at these three simple words, and she smirked, the tip of a canine showing. "Oh, did he now? Welp, you good for tomorrow?"

The older boy gave my mother an amused chuckle, "Yes. I'll be coming with Shikaku first thing in the morning." His hand gave my head another pat, and he offered a subtle smile, "I'll see you then, Nora-san." Then he seemed to flash and disappear. I couldn't help but gape a little at the spot he had just occupied.

"Mommy, he is soooo cool!" I rounded on Tsume with a wide grin as I told her all that happened.

A/N: This is the longest chapter yet. Four re-writes later, and I think it's finally ready for public consumption. Whew! I'm taking a different direction from most reincarnation fics, and you'll start to see that unfold a bit over the next few chapters. Hopefully, you all will enjoy the ride! ^^