I came into this world the same way that everyone does. Naked, covered in blood, screaming my lungs out.

You did it too, so did your mom, your dad, and your first grade teacher. Who wouldn't scream when they were suddenly ripped out of what was basically nine months sensory deprivation and thrown headlong (hopefully) into the cold, bright, loud world outside?

Not that any of you want to remember that. Truthfully I don't either, so I've done my best to push those frantic, terrified memories from my mind. Now the question might arise that asks how, exactly, do I remember that time. It wasn't as if any normal persons long term memory reached back to infancy, right?

I am sad to inform you that you are right, no normal persons does. To my displeasure I am not what is commonly referred to as a normal person. Because normal people don't remember as far back as their birth, they certainly don't remember their time in utero, and they absolutely, definitely do not remember further back than that.

And yes, there is most certainly further back than that. For me, at least, there is.

Before the two years of next-to-zero motor function and complete inability to fend off the attacks of affection from my current father, Akio Suzuki, and my only mother, Shiori Suzuki I was not Asuka Suzuki. I wouldn't bother you with the details of who I used to be if I didn't think it was relevant to the story I'm about to tell you.

My name isn't important, though for those of you curious enough to know it was Laura. My old dad was an ex-marine, my mom was a victim of an unknown allergy to the anesthetic they used during my birth. As for me, I was an engineer. I worked for NASA.

I'm sure you think I exaggerate, but truthfully I did. It took me about ten years in college and a lot longer to actually get in, so by the time I had a secure place on their payroll I was nearly thirty. I may have been smart, but I wasn't smart enough to enter NASA before twenty five. By the time my death rolled around I was thirty seven, with a guilty pleasure that stemmed from the place as my desire to join the space program. Mobile Suit Gundam.

Go ahead, you can laugh. Actually writing this all down I know I am, but that show was my life as a kid. I wouldn't have seen it, as it was years from being put in English back then, if it wasn't for my neighbor, who had moved in from Japan shortly after it was released. Our friendship was a struggle, with his broken English and my lack of knowledge on Japanese half our time was spent playing charades. Eventually though we both learned enough of each others language for casual conversation and I was introduced to anime.

Being the geek that I was my love of it stayed with me throughout my childhood, onto my teenage years and well into adulthood. It was a good escape, with dramatic characters and crazy fights that could never really happen. My favorite was a long running show centered around an orange wearing ninja. I'm sure your know it.

Anyways, I was smart, grew up with my dad, and worked for NASA. Life was pretty good, great, in fact, until the day I was in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Long story short; A bank robbery went wrong when I was making a withdrawal, I got shot, the world goes black, and the next thing I know I'm surrounded by some sort of warmth.

Why am I boring you with the details of my life? Why should you care?

Because I was rocket scientist stuck in a place without space travel, that's why.


I try not to think too much about the time when I was an infant, simply because it was horribly, awfully, unbearably boring. I couldn't move properly, couldn't stand, couldn't control anything about myself or the world around me. When I needed something I could not get it, or even ask for it. I had to cry and hope someone understood what I required. My mother was a saint, and sometimes I thought her a mind reader as well.

Whenever the little wails would be emitted from my mouth she would hurry over from where she was in our cozy little house, scoop me into her arms and run a methodical check to see if I needed food, changing, or if I was simply lonely, which was the case often enough it's rather sad.

I've never dealt with being on my own well, especially when I couldn't even occupy myself. Needless to say I started reading as soon as possible.

Akio Suzuki was a tall man, with loose blond hair a few shades from red and deep-set brown eyes. His jaw was strong, his nose proudly arched and his lips always lifted with a smile. Somehow he felt bigger, more, than my mother, as if he were more energetic than my mother, for all he did not have her energy by the time he got home. (I would later learn that the energy I felt from him was chakra.)

He would come home at odd times, stay for hours or days or even weeks before leaving, for hours, days, or weeks. I could find no pattern in his work schedule, but when the door opened and he walked in, looking world weary and battered, I would crawl, and latter toddle over to him, grab his pant leg and give him a toothless smile.

The age seemed to melt away and he would smile like the sun and pick me up, toss me into the air and laugh.

My mother never seemed to fear for my safety when I was off the ground, out of his arms, and one day I discovered why.

I was three years old, reading a book on the floor of the living room when my father came in, just like always. Except this time he wasn't alone.

I was never sure why, but my mother did not take me with her when she went shopping, in fact my access to the outside world was limited to out fenced in, tree surrounded backyard. Whenever she went shopping I would be left with my fifteen year old neighbor, who smoked more than anyone ever should. Consequently I had never seen the outside world, and so had no warning for what was about to happen.

The extra pair of weird shoes that accompanied my fathers were noted, and I had to grin in excitement. I always loved to meet new people, expand my horizons and learn more about the world I lived in (It didn't take a genius to see that this was not the world I had been born in last time). I couldn't see the person themselves, as I was on the other side of the couch, but I leapt to my feet and ran as fast as my short legs could carry me around the obstacle, giving a joyous shout of greeting to my father. I hit his leg, which was confusing as he normally lifted me before I made contact.

There was a chuckle from above and I looked up at him from under short black bangs, smiling happily. Until I noticed the white bandages wrapped around his head, the dilation of his pupils and the fact that he was leaning heavily on another person.

My tiny face creased with my worry and Akio crouched down and pulled me into a hug, standing straight up again with only a little wobble. Even his normal energy was low, faded. I was frightened.

"Sunshine," he greeted, kissing my forehead. "You're dad got a little banged up at work today, so he can't play tonight. Sorry."

He really was too, I could see it in his eyes as I sat in his arms. He wanted to play with me, but he had been injured. Work. What was his work, that required funny looking sandals and caused the familiar visage of a soldier?

A sound from the right reminded me of the visitor's presence and I turned to see who it was that had brought my dad home to me. I also got my answer.

Silver hair and a single black eye met my sight before my eyes rolled back and I promptly passed out.


Kakashi Hatake was no where to be found when I woke up again, in my bed instead of my dads arms. I slipped out from under my generic purple bed sheets and padded into the hallway, finding that the house was dark and quiet. My socks slipped on the hardwood floor a couple of times before I reached my parents room. The ticking clock in the hallways told me it was very early in the morning, almost half past two.

My parents were sleeping peacefully when I walked in, my dad only turning over. I assumed he had woken briefly, realized it was me and gone back to sleep. My mother lay with her back to him, facing the window, and I had to go all the way around the bed to reach her, not wanting to bother my sleeping father.

I stopped and stared at her for a few minutes, the moon glowing at my back.

Shiori was a truly beautiful woman when she was awake, bright and full of life and love. It was easy to see why dad married her. Her hair was soft, shining black, her eyes a green as mint leaves. Her nose was small and her skin smooth, jaw straight and brows forever arching. When she smiled it lit her entire face, and while her praise was not given lightly it was sincere when it was.

I hoped to one day look like her, and possibly learn to cook just as well.

In the moon light though she looked somehow smaller, shrunken in and fragile. Perhaps it was because her energy, which by then I had assumed was chakra, was so small. Perhaps it was because she had asthma. I was never really sure, but that night when I crawled into bed with her and curled into the soft curve of her body a feeling of foreboding touching down on my chest.

My perfect, happy life had just ended, and the hardship was about to begin.


It was a few months later, after I had explained that Kakashi had felt too big to be around(something that completely confused poor Shiori and brought a strange gleam to my fathers eye) that my parents sat me down in front of the couch, looking at each other. They appeared almost nervous, for what reason I couldn't be sure.

"Asuka," my father began slowly, waiting until I had stopped rolling my plastic bracelet around to continue, "You mother and I, well, that is to say you're moth is- You're going to have- um."

"I'm going to have a baby," mother blurted, one hand on her stomach. I looked between the two of them, tilting my head to the side. Was I supposed to be confused? Angry? Jealous? I was none of those, in fact I was ecstatic.

A grin blossomed on my face and I jumped up to wrap my arms around my mother's neck.

"That's great! I'll have someone to play with! Is it gonna be a boy or a girl? What are we gonna call them? Do I have to share my room or will they have their own?" questions bubbled out of my mouth in a continuous stream and my parents held onto me, laughing in relief. Weren't they lucky to have such a good daughter?


It was around the same time that Shiori's first trimester ended that Akio pulled me away to their room and set me on the bed. He opened the table beside it, pulling out a cloth headband with a metal plate attached to it. It was held out to me and I gingerly took it, carefully tracing the design engraved on it. Green met brown and I made a questioning noise.

"That's the symbol of the Leaf Village, Asuka," he explained, crouching in front of me, "That headband is given to all the ninja that risk their lives to protect the village, like me and Kakashi. It's very important, and it will always be worn by the people who serve the village. Do you understand?"

I nodded slowly, placing the headband in my lap and watching my father carefully. What was he getting at?

"Would you like to be a ninja?"

"I-," I cut myself off, frowning. Did I? Being a ninja was dangerous, it could easily get you killed. On the other hand being a civilian when there were wars and invasions coming was just as worrisome. If something happened I wanted to be able to protect myself, and my mother.

"I want to be a ninja," I told him firmly, jaw set in what would become a familiar stubborn line.


Not a week after my declaration I was at the hospital with a medical ninja looking me over, his face grim set. I didn't like the look of it, it made my nerves start to fire and my stomach start to twist. Akio was called into the hallway, away from me and he and the doctor had a hushed conversation before my father gave a shout of denial. He was hushed quickly, and all I could do was swing my legs and wait. Breathing was getting hard, my heart was pumping funnily.

The door opened and I looked up, finding a frustrated, angry, frightened looking father standing there with a solemn medic. I looked up at them, hands clasped tightly in front of me as I waited for the verdict.

It was the doctor that spoke up. "I know this might be hard to hear, but please listen. You're chakra sensitive, which can sometimes make it hard to be a ninja. That would be something you could have worked around. But…."

"But?" I prompted quietly.

"Asuka," there was my father, "There's a hole in your heart. You can't become a ninja."


The greatest test of courage on earth is to bear defeat without losing heart. Robert Green Ingersoll