For twelve years, a girl had spent her time writing fanfiction. At first, it was just to aid her in her novels but then it became something more to her. For each anime, she would choose she would do extensive research. She would learn everything she possibly could about each and every character, plot twist, and history. Each story she would introduce became a new world to her. Consuming her thoughts to the point she would even dream about her individual character for the fan fiction she was currently writing. She was known to continue with a single anime until she would develop the perfect character in her mind. One that she couldn't devise a single way to change the story. To the point, her readers had told her they could no longer watch the anime without seeing her stories.
Until now, she finally found an anime with endless possibilities. An anime that held its own vast world entirely. She tried repeatedly to change the story. Attempting countless characters to the point she believed there was nothing left she could learn about it. Nothing new she could add. No stone left to turn. Yet still, where was the perfect character? She knew it had to be somewhere within her. The character that would change the entire anime for her. She whittled down the personality, the origin, and bloodline of the character and yet, she still hasn't found the one. So she continued. Day after day, night after night. Doing nothing but writing. She was hooked. This writer had even begun to beg every night before she slept for the perfect character to come to mind. Hoping that soon she will have the right story for her.
Until one day when she awoke after planning only three hours of sleep before getting back up to continue her search. As she opened her eyes it was all different. The world around her was blurry and bright. Voices she had never heard before speak around her and she could feel large hands holding her close to a warm body. All of it was confusing to her. Even as she found herself strangely tired this soon after waking up. What's going on? She asked herself as a yawn escapes from her. Am I sick? Am I still sleeping? What about my current story?
When she opened her eyes again, she was alone staring up at something pale above her. With how blurry everything is, she could only guess it would be a ceiling. As she continued to lay there wondering what had happened. Where is she? What is going to unfold from here where she could no longer reach a notebook or her computer? How was she supposed to find her character when her arms and legs were trapt? So she did all she could. She began trying to unravel herself from the bedding swaddled around her so tightly that it wouldn't allow her to move much at all.
Eventually, the blanket began to loosen ever so slightly but it was enough that she could finally slip her arms out of the restraint. When she managed that, there was another problem to wrap her mind around. The hands she could see in front of her face were not her own. They were small, pudgy, and untrained. Even her wrists weren't what she could even consider wrists. They were more like folds of fat and skin as her arms felt like weights. Heavy and unmanageable. Enough so that simply raising her arms had become a workout for her.
What is going on? She questions silently in her head as she drops her arms to the bed beside her. Staring back up at the ceiling in a dumbfounded stupor. The girl wasn't an idiot or at least, she wouldn't believe herself to be one personally. She always tended to set back and think even before she had found a creative outlet. A habit that required more silence than people felt comfortable with. It actually made her a prime target for bullying when she was little. However, she could tell just by the sight of her hands and arms. They belonged to an infant for some reason.
She doesn't know how this has come to be or why. All she knew is the next steps she must take. So she began working her arms first. Getting them stronger so she can move them around much more easily. Then she would raise her legs at the same time, fighting against the heavy blanket in order to accomplish this. She knew that infants are supposed to sleep a lot but she found her past problems were also affecting her now. Insomnia. So she would take turns using her arms and legs at separate intervals. When one got too tired she would switch to the other. All she could do was tell herself that in order to grasp what has happened or even get an idea of it, she needed to be able to move again. Just as she also knew that even though she would think that. She won't be able to sleep until she can get her thoughts in word format.
As the days progressed she continued. Adding in different movements when one was beginning to become too easy. Finger exercises took a lot of focus for her to do. Motions she had become used to wouldn't happen without thought anymore. Much like acting as if she had a keyboard in front of her and was trying to type out her thoughts. Her fingers wouldn't move individually very well or independently. She couldn't spread them on command nor act as if she was holding a pencil. She would work her fingers and wrists in these actions knowing they were considered fine motor skills.
During these times she realized that her eyesight was clearing. In fact, it became better than she was used to. She was unaccustomed to seeing things clearly without the glasses she kept next to her bed. Yet now, she could see entirely across the room through the wooden bars of her crib to the door and still make out the finer details. She could tell, the room was nothing like what she once knew but still, it seemed familiar to her somehow. Beyond the familiarity of the room style, there was another thing that began to weigh on her mind. If I am an infant, why am I left alone so much? Shouldn't someone come in every hour at least? Shouldn't they take me out of the house with them when they go shopping? The one that is supposed to be my mother does come in and make sure I am changed and fed but otherwise, I am left wrapped up and alone.
The words that I can hear aren't all that different from what I am used to. The English vocabulary certainly stands out with their attire and this room. It almost reminds me of watching dubbed anime. Oriental furnishings yet English actors speaking the words. At least I don't have to get used to a new language but still. It bothers me. With that on her mind, day in and day out she continued pushing different parts of her body. When she was able to roll over she began doing push-ups and planks. Or at least in a way she was. Her head was still far too heavy to lift for a period of time yet, so she would rest her head on the mattress and try to move the rest of her body in these actions.
By her count, two weeks passed and she was finally able to sit up without her head toppling her over. She was able to properly work on building her muscles without her head dragging her down. Eventually, she grabbed onto the bars and began to move around. Her mind threatens to consume her every waking moment as much as it bothers her when she tries to sleep. At this time she was able to know how far she can go by judging the time on the wall before she needed to lay down and wrap herself back up. Not because she was tired but because her mother would come into the room to take care of her.
However, on one such restless night, her body was sore and tired leaving her unwilling to move. All she could do was lay there and think. So she did the only thing she could think of to try and settle her thoughts. She began to meditate just as she used to do before she had found her creative outlet. Just like before, meditation wouldn't come easy. It calls for you to train your mind and your body to remain in one position without thinking or simply by focusing on one thing in particular. Much like sitting cross-legged on a bedroom floor with a candle burning before you so you can focus solely on the flame.
Eventually, after a few hours though she managed to finally slip into her old meditative state of mind. That is when she felt it. As if it was a whisp of swirling liquid within her moving through her body but mostly focused at her core. It was an odd sensation that she had never felt before so it drew her curiosity. She began to focus on it. Learning every which way it moves, the way it flows through her. Every swirl and whisp, every fluctuation as it seems to react with her breathing. She wanted to know all about it.
"Sir, we weren't expecting you tonight." She could hear her father speak up from the other room threatening to pull her from her meditation. "hm, yes. Duties with the police force as well as the clan have kept me away this long. I heard you had your child." A male's practically emotionless voice speaks up from the other room nearly drawing her eyes to open as she becomes consumed with the conversation, rather than her meditation. "We understand sir, please, have a seat if you have time." Her mother speaks up next inviting whoever was there to politely join them for a discussion. "I should be getting home, Naori." The man states rather stiffly nearly causing the girl to frown. "How is your daughter, Akari?" He then asks almost as if this was a normal necessity for him to stop by and ask about a child. However, the name he had spoken before her own bothered her. Greatly. Naori. I know that name.
"She is a very silent child, Fugaku. Not once has she cried or made a sound." Her father iterates for the man. But the name he had spoken had her heart hammering in her chest. That name, she knew all too well. Fugaku? Is it really possible? Could it really be? And just like that even with her heart hammering in her chest with this revelation. She began to piece together what was going on. Her silent plea every night before bed, the reason why she had an infant's form. Even the substance swirling within her. Was my wish granted? Did the perfect character finally come to me? And I'm her? Is this how I find the character within me by being her? This, Akari?
These thoughts consumed her mind taking away the conversation happening elsewhere in the house. She was rushed with adrenaline and above all, fear. The Naruto world is extremely dangerous but also exciting. "That is fine, Naka. She is only just coming into the world after all. No child is the same. I know this better than anyone with Itachi as my eldest." With knowing now that she is somehow in the Naruto universe and who her parents are talking to. She knows why the names of her parents are familiar to her. In the research she had done, she knows that Naori and Naka were said to be close friends but yet, they are her parents. Two people who hid the fact that they have the Mangekyo from everyone. This is why she was thrown off from realizing this sooner. Naori has purple hair unlike the rest of the clan. As Naka has grey hair which from what she knew, very few Uchiha actually had.
This is bad. Naori wasn't a bad person but Naka was known to use Izanagi on clan members until Naori used Izanami on him to get him to change. Is this before or after that happened? The anime never specified. If it is after, maybe that's why they are my parents. But it is pretty unknown when or where they died. Just it was either before or during the Uchiha downfall. But, I can't do anything about it. I have to take things one step at a time.
First is being able to move freely. Then I need to train. If I don't join the academy or excel as Itachi had then when the massacre happens, I'm screwed either way. Yes, this will be a type of fight for life that I've never done before. I'm scared, but yet. I'm not. Not with the past, I've already had. It's not like my past life or... present or whatever was a bad one. Just some bad things happened due to my own choices. Yet, it was those choices that allowed me to grow into the person I became. So I can't regret my past. Just move forward with the now.
With this new bit of information, she had received. Akari began to split her focus from exercising to building strength and her meditation. She needed to build her chakra early from the get-go and learn chakra control. Akari knows everything she needs to master and get down before she turns seven. Meaning, that she has seven years to accumulate the strength she needs. Being in the Naruto world in a way, is a blessing for her. She could have been thrown into a number of Anime and yet, she's in this one. The one she has spent the most time on. The one she's learned more than she probably should have about the anime, the people, the jutsu. All the way down to the hand signs and explanations that were given with the more popular of jutsu in the anime. She knows it all. Or at least more than she should. Especially from not having even watched half of the Shippuden series before. She couldn't lie. The Shippuden series to her, drug out more so than the Naruto series itself did. So it wouldn't keep her attention, which is probably why all of her writings on the series always ended prematurely compared to the actual story.
Akari lost track of the days that passed her by. She was now focusing on balance as she tries to run in place within her crib and attempted to stick her feet to the solid wood either at the foot or the head of the furnishing. Eventually, she was able to figure out the subtle mix she needed and was standing on the end of her crib simply looking up at the ceiling as she focused. She had even added in squats, crunches, sit-ups, and pull-ups. Basically any exercise she could think of that she could accomplish in her small confinement. She had only one focus on her mind. To be stronger so she will survive.
By the time came that Akari decided it was time to leave the crib, she was able to walk up the wood and stand on top of the railing. She made sure to be careful and not just jump to the floor yet. So she walked down the edge of the crib and down its leg to the floor. She was finally free. So she ran to the door before sliding it open. Her heart hammers in excitement before she leans halfway out of her room and looks around. In one direction there were more doors as in the other, it looks like the hall leads into a large room. Or at least she hoped. They need to see me so I don't have to be stuck in there any longer. Akari tells herself silently and steps out of her room for the first time.
When she made it to the end of the hall she realizes she had been right with her assumptions. It was some kind of living room with sitting pillows further following the oriental theme but at least now she understands why. As she looks around, she couldn't help but frown. The house was completely silent as if no one is home. Sighing she moves forward knowing that it wouldn't be possible. Her mother or her father should be around somewhere. Continuing to look, her frown deepens as she opens the sliding front door and peers outside. "No one is here." Akari utters out quietly as she lets her eyes flit over the yard.
It was getting pretty late in the day and Akari's stomach was clenching painfully from hunger. None of her parents had been home. So she was forced to go into the kitchen and look for anything that she can have. For weeks she's been drinking from a bottle so she needed a bottle until she knows that her body is up for food. Nodding to her thoughts she walks up the side of the counter to stand on top of it as she looks around for the formula.
When she found it she moves along the counter and grabs the jar carefully and holds it to her so she doesn't chance dropping it. She then goes to the drainer and grabs her bottle. At first, she looks at the canister in her arms to read the directions but she couldn't help the frown pulling at her lips again. It was written in Kanji. Great, so I am lucky enough they speak English as if this is an English dub version of Naruto but everything is still written in Japanese so I can't read it. Sighing heavily she guesses at the measurement before pushing the lid back onto the can and taking her bottle to the sink. Sitting in the basin herself she works on getting the water a good temperature as it flows into the opposite side. When she finishes, she finally had her meal in her hands as she sets on the side of the counter waiting for someone to come home as she drinks.