Thanks for the awesome reviews, I didn't expect to receive such a big response on the first chapter alone. To all who are reading, you have my heartfelt thanks, and I hope you enjoy what will hopefully be a long and complicated story.

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. . .

I was now three months old.

My new life as a baby wasn't easy, and if you're reading this, you may roll your eyes.

Please don't.

I was a mature being stuck in the body of a baby! Does that happen often?

No.

From what I know, the predicament that I was in, only happened in fanfictions. And those girls (Marysues), were usually happy with their situation. I, however, wasn't. And that's where the problem gets a little fishy.

I never wanted to be reborn, and stuck in the body of a baby was incredibly draining on my self conscience. I was no longer the girl that never fit in at school, because she was somehow the "social outcast". I no longer looked the same, either. That was one thing I was sure of. I no longer possessed the one thing thing that I had prided myself on.

My appearance.

From what I knew, my new body didn't possess the same looks as my last one. That was to be expected, of course. I was a Japanese baby. That in itself was weird. My new body didn't look the same as my last one did. My last body possessed dark brown locks and bright blue eyes, and I knew for certain that my new body didn't look like that.

After all, how could I look the same?

It would be a great coincidence if my new body was, in fact, a carbon of my last one. But thinking of that sent snickers through my mind.

As if.

Sometimes, I wondered how I could be connected to such an unreliable body such as this. Was I a spirit stuck in this body, cursed to watch the child's life through its eyes?

No.

Because if I was a spirit, then I wouldn't be able to control it how I did. I even did a little experiment the day after I was born. It involved staring at my tiny, pudgy baby fingers, and after a few seconds, I would attempt to twitch them, moving the fingers with little dexturity I possessed.

To dread, my plan proved to be successful.

It also proved my theory that this was my body, and mine alone.

I was Yūmaru.

No one else was, I was.

And despite the fact that I was a little miffed at the somewhat masculine name, all in all, I pretty satisfied.

Now, back to the story.

I was now three months old, and I am what my new parents call a "miracle". This was all due to the fact that I was such a quiet child- I found no use for something as trivial as crying, and as such, I rarely made a sound. My new life, I noticed, was also drawing slight parallels to my old one.

For example, in my old life, I had a half-sister eight years my senior called Ashley. In this life, the being that replaced Ashley was an older brother figure, who really was my older brother in this life- Takashi. And in my old life, I had a younger sister called Riley whom I absolutely adored.

Whenever I thought of my sisters, it brought a pang to my heart.

All because I knew, just knew that I'd never see them again. I would never see Ashley or Riley again, or my parents. In the space of these three months, I had thought of my parents more so than my siblings, and that thought made me slightly guilty. And it took everything to simply not burst into tears right then and there.

It was quite simple, really.

I missed them.

I missed the way my Dad used to ruffle my hair when he walked past, or the way my Mum would press a kiss to my forehead when she was seeing me off to school. Heck, I even missed the way that Riley would toddle around my legs and attempt to imitate me. I missed my old life, and I would do anything to get it back.

This new world was dangerous and cold, nothing like how the Marysues in fanfictions described it. The ninja world wasn't some great big adventure, it was harsh and cold with a dwindling survival rate.

And in order to survive all of this, I would have to become a ninja.

It was the least I could, I suppose.

I would enter the academy at the specified age of six, graduate, be put in a Genin team, and then I would be all set.

That didn't stop the nervous jitters from shuddering down my spine, though.

I would become a Shinobi, and Shinobi were assassions, killers, soldiers brought to battle in the heat of war.

I didn't know if I could handle that.

But I would do it, if not for me, then for my family. Because despite everything, I found myself growing to love them. After all, who wouldn't? They had taken care of me when I had entered this world, and I knew that they loved me unconditionally. It had only been three months, and I had already lowered my cocoon of steel.

There was my Dad, Tou-san. He was, perhaps, the one I loved the most. He was silent and loving and strong, and I knew that he loved us all in his own way.

There was my Mum, Kaa-chan. She had brought me into this world, and despite the fact that I hated it here, I still loved her.

Then there was my brother, Onii-chan. Despite being nearly eight years my senior, Takashi was fun loving and mischevious, always up to no good, but I loved him, as well, well, as much as a baby could love an annoying older brother.

I sighed, turning my head and burying my face into my father's chest. He was wearing a soft, black hoodie, and I knew that he was on his day off. He had been gone for days, and somehow, I knew that he had been gone on a mission. He had come home bearing a limp and a half-healed bruise on his tanned cheek. To say that I was worried was an understand.

I was terrified.

I mean, how could I not be? My father had come home with half-healed injuries for Heaven's sake!

When Dad came to pick me up that night, I had surprised him with a few rares tears and wails. But he simply stood there, cradeling my tiny form in his arms, cooing out garbled nonsense into my ears, while one hand calmly stroked my back in soothing circles.

Nonetheless, I felt severly embarrassed the next day.

While I was thinking this, my lips unconsciously pulled into a lopsided frown. A large hand gently tilted my head up, warm fingers resting on my tiny chin.

I stared at Dad.

He stared back.

Then, he broke into chuckles, his once stoic persona completely dissolving. I felt his laughter rumble through his chest, but I didn't smile back.

Dad then pulled his hand back, drawing me close and pressing my form to his chest. He then began to speak, his voice whispering out his strange Japanese dialect. And due to having to listen to that language for over three months, my mind had a better grasp to it then to when I'd just been born. As of now, I could just understand basic sentences.

And for me, that was more than enough.

"Is my little Yūmaru-chan unhappy?" My father whispered softly. "Does she want to be cheered up?"

Subconsciously scrunching up my face, I merely pressed closer. The way that Dad was talking to me, reminded me of the way that my previous father had talked to my younger sister, Riley, when she was still only a little baby.

I didn't really like it, but that didn't mean that I hated it, either.

I would just have to learn how to deal with it.

"Well?"

It seemed as if Dad was waiting for a response. But what was I supposed to give? A gurgle perhaps?

Luckily, I was saved from my own personal humiliation when my brother entered the room.

Well, more like burst into the room, I'd say.

But I can't say it, because I can't speak.

His messy hair flew into his his face as his eyes sparked with mischeviousness.

At the sight of his huge eyes, I immediately cringed away.

"Takashi!" Dad berated sharply, all the while tightening his hold on me, until I was practically swallowed in the depths of his hoodie. My father was a tall and well built man, but I doubted that when I grew, I wouldn't get very tall, anyway. I suppose I could blame this on Mum as she was fairly short and petite herself. That fact didn't make me love her any less, though.

"Tou-san!" My brother began happily.

As he said this, his head tilted to the side, and something glinted.

Like, literally glinted.

Tied around his forehead, and hidden underneath his messy bangs, was a Sunagakure headband.

My blood turned to ice.

My big brother, my Onii-chan, was a Shinobi.

He was only eight years old.

Granted, he must have been skilled and intelligent enough, unless...

Unless Sunagakure was lowering its graduation age. And that only happens in...

Times of war.

So there has to be some kind of war going on right now that allowed Takashi to graduate so early.

But the question was: Which one?

Was it the Third, Second, or Fourth?

I didn't know, and I didn't particularly want to know, anyway.

"Tou-san," Takashi tried again.

Dad's head snapped up, red hair shadowing his too black eyes. "Yes, Musuko?"

I tried not to giggle when Takashi's face turned as red as his hair. I tried so hard not to. But to my complete horror, a slight, slight sort of breathy whisper escaped my lips.

I tried not to flinch when Takashi suddenly clapped his hands together, and he began to speak, but due to complexity of the Japanese dialect, I could only understand so much.

"I want... hold Yū-chan!"

Dad seemed to raise an eyebrow at Takashi's sudden outburst, but without any demand or complaint, I was swiftly passed over. My brother struggled for a moment at the sudden adding of my weight. But he simply grinned and bore it. As he smiled, the light caught on his Suna headband, and my attention was immediately diverted to it.

The fact that my older brother could be a Shinobi at this age shocked me. And something told me, that if he were to deliver the killing blow to a target, then he wouldn't be able to do it.

Takashi's too kind to be a Shinobi, I thought faintly.

"What did you want, Musuko?"

"Oh!"

If it were possible, Takashi's grin seemed to become even wider than it already was. And once again, I could only understand so many words.

"I want... take Yū-chan... see my team," Takashi finished excitedly, his green eyes wide and filled with hope as he gazed back up at Dad.

But it only took one word to completely shatter his daydream.

"Iie," Dad said firmly.

Takashi immediately crumpled. "But why?" He whined.

Dad's eyes quickly became cold and guarded, the deep black depths like bits of coal.

"Yūmaru is only a child," Dad said sternly. "I will not allow her... be hurt..."

Once again, I couldn't understand what was being said, and had I not been a baby, I would have groaned aloud.

I really, really, really hated being stuck in the body of a child.

. . .

I was now three years old.

My life as a baby had been exceptionally boring, and they weren't really special, other than the fact that I grew to love my new family even more than I did before.

But there was an added relief after three long years.

I could finally, finally understand Japanese enough to the point that I could speak it. But my sentences were few and far between, I was simply far too shy to say anymore.

I remember the time I had spoken my first words very clearly.

Dad and I had been in the kitchen, I had been clutching onto the cloth of his long pants at that time, and after contemplating for quite a while, I had made him crouch so that I was level with him. Then, touching his face, I had cooed out a broken "Tou-san".

I swear that Dad had nearly cried when I had spoken my first words.

But that was all in the past, because now, I was currently standing in front of the single mirror that we kept in the bathroom. I kept scrutinising my appearance. I didn't why I still did it, but my new appearance still fascinated me. For some reason, some part of me kept expecting to see the old me reflected back at me. But whenever I did stare into the mirror, a girl with long, dark brown hair and bright blue eyes wasn't reflected back at me.

Instead, a little girl girl of about three stared back at me. Her face wasn't sharp and defined, it was small and pudgy with child fat. Her hair wasn't long and dark brown, it was short and messy, falling to her chin in a ragged mess of blood-red. Her eyes weren't bright blue, they were deep black, the same shape and colour as her paternal father's was.

In short, this girl was me.

My past name didn't mean anything anymore.

I was Yūmaru.

And Yūmaru was me.

After over three years, I had finally accepted that fact. There was no way I would be able to return to my old world. Because Sunagakure was my home now.

And I would do anything I could to protect it.

"Yūmaru?"

I nearly stumbled in my haste to turn. When I saw who it was, I smiled rather shyly, but my entire face was going as red as my hair.

"Yes, Onii-chan?"

My older brother, Takashi, was only eleven years old, but he was already a Chūnin. He had been minted about a month ago, but he wore the flak jacket with pride, seeming to revel in his new status.

I, however, wasn't too keen on the idea of my Onii-chin killing people. But there was nothing I could to stop him. It was Takashi's to become the Kazekage, and who was I to stop him?

At least there wasn't a war going on. I had only found this particular fact a few months ago, actually. I had learned from my mother that the Second Shinobi World War had only ended about a year after I was born.

Sighing, I turned to look up at my brother, who seemed to be trying his hardest not to grin back at me. I eyed him curiously, my face stoic and expressionless, though a smile was tugging at my lips.

Takashi had grown taller in the past three years, nearly dwarfing our father in height. And his hair had become longer, as well, the shaggy red mess now reaching past his shoulders. He didn't bother tying it up, prefering to let it fly free. Under his unruly bangs, his Sunagakure headband glinted whenever it was hit by light of any kind.

His eyes, though, were another story.

They were no longer shining with naivety and innocence. Instead, they were jaded and hardened from all the hardships he had endured and from all the people that he killed.

"Do you still want to meet my team, Yū-chan?"

I looked down at my hands, twisting them into the fabric of my pale yellow yukata. I usually did this when I was deep in thought, or just plain nervous.

"'Course I do," I replied with a rare grin.

Takashi looked bewildered for a moment- I rarely ever smiled, I found no need to, it just strained my face- before his face split into a huge grin.

"C'mon, then," he called, practically running out the door.

"Onii-chan, wait!" I growled.

I was still barefoot, damnit.

Where were my sandals?

"I still haven't got my sandels!"

I heard a sigh, before Takashi stalked back into the bathroom.

"Well, you aren't going to find any shoes in here," he stated lazily. He then turned.

I raised an eyebrow, and he answered my silent question.

"Just hop onto my back, and I'll carry you there."

So I did as he bid, and soon enough, Takashi was leaping through the rooftops of Sunagakure. I nearly shrieked at the wind slapping my face- it brought tears to my eyes, so eventually, I just opted on scrunching them shut. A few minutes, I felt Takashi touch down on what felt like solid ground.

Finally.

With an almost gleeful noise emitting from my lips, I hurriedly hopped from Takashi's back, landing neatly on the balls of my feet.

And I almost stumbled.

Almost.

Well, I would have, had it not been for my brother's steadying hand on my shoulder, keeping me from toppling over. I thanked him with my eyes, and was rewarded with a nod and grin.

I smiled.

"Oi, Takashi, who's the brat?"

I sighed.

I seem to be doing a lot of that, lately, I thought sourly.

Takashi turned, and with his head went his hair, briefly flying about his face and letting me see the long, puckered scar on his cheek that he kept hidden.

When Takashi had come home from the Chūnin Exams a month ago, Mum had freaked. Because, apparently, someone had struck him down when he had been fighting. The scar was still reddened and still not fully healing. Secretely, I thought that Takashi was proud of his first battle scar, even though he went to great lengths to conceal it.

Takashi grinned lazily, the puckered edge of his scar stretching with the motion.

I eyed the newcomer curiously. It was a boy, but he looked to be at least thirteen years old. His hair was a spiky brown, and fell into equally dark eyes. His headband was strapped around his arm.

"Yeah, Takashi, who is this?"

The other person was a girl, I noticed, and she seemed to be the same age as my brother. Her hair was inky black, and just fell short of her shoulders, her eyes were a wide brown, and she seemed to be the only one on her team to wear her headband tied around her neck.

"Akai, Kazuki, this is my Imouto, Yūmaru," Takashi murmured. "Yūmaru, this is my team. The boy over there is Akai, and the girl is Kazuki."

I felt heat rising to my cheeks, and in an act of habit, I twisted my fingers into the fabric of my yukata. I then met everyone's gaze head on.

"Jus' call me Yū," I mumbled.