A/N: Another Story I've had stuck in my head for a while that I wanted to hold off on posting but insomnia strikes again. This will not be taking priority over Tanna. This is gonna be a very much more character driven story more than crack, and I hope you all enjoy!

You know, the average human being gains self awareness at 4 years old. I thank God for that. Because if I had to be aware of being in diapers, I'm fairly certain I would commit an act of violence.

There would be much more time for that later on in life, and let me assure you that there would be a great many acts of violence in this world I found myself in. Unfortunately, at this point of time, at the tender age of 4 years old in the year of 1136 I gained self awareness.

The self awareness of a 25 year old gunsmith from San Juan, Texas. In this new life, I must've been a supremely quiet child, because my first word mirrored the one of my previous life. Albeit in a different language.

"Motherfucker!"

"Isshin!" My new mother gasped, horror in her green eyes as my new father spat out his rice ball as he burst out laughing, pounding his fist into the dining table. Now my new mother, a lovely young woman with auburn hair and vibrant green eyes, had the same sense of discipline as my original mom.

She quickly removed her slipper from her foot and smacked my father on the head with enough force to bounce his head off the sturdy wood table with a shout of 'Baka Yarou!'

I would've laughed, if those green eyes didn't turn to me next with a promise of retribution.

Dread It.

Run from It.

It matters little, because in the annals of history in worlds innumerable there is an immutable truth.

The chancla will always arrive.

My mother's name was Sakura, funnily enough. She was a merchant's daughter who fell in love with my father on a visit to, you guessed it, the Hidden Leaf Village. She was a petite woman, about 5'4" at the age of 23, meaning her and my father married young. She was stern, and obviously wasn't one to spare the belt, but she nursed the bump on my head she caused as I pouted.

"Where did you learn that naughty word, Isshi?" She asked, smiling softly as she rubbed my head.

"Papa." Passing the buck seemed the best option, explaining that I just had a whole, if short, lifetime of memories burned into a prepubescent mind seemed to be a good way to be introduced to the Yamanakas.

I don't want to be introduced to the Yamanakas.

So I sent up a prayer of forgiveness as my mother descended on my father, poor Yoroi Sekitangara, whom suffered the wrath of a woman scorned.

Days pass, and I talk more with my family, I learn that I have a grandfather who lives in a different apartment closer to the Hokage's tower. I learned that grandad was a shinobi, and that my father didn't follow in his footsteps, preferring to learn the way of the Forge. Young as he was, only 24 himself, he carried himself with the aura of a man much older. Considering the life expectancy in a village just off the final years of a War, I can understand why.

Sekitangara Yoroi was a large man, wiry muscles straining under his skin as I watched him bring down his hammer onto a glowing piece of steel.

"Y'see, Isshi, your Papa's earned a name for our family. Lot of the older smiths were called back into service, being retired shinobi. Papa never took up the headband, so he did his duty here at home." He spoke, placing the piece of steel back into the forge to heat it back up. "Our family owes a lot to the Village, Isshi. Your grandad may not like that fact, but we do."

"Why?" I asked, tilting my head slightly.

"Why what?"

"Why does our family owe the Village a lot, Papa?" What obligations do I have to this place? Outside of y'know, God putting me here for some purpose I can only guess involves a certain blonde kid. My dad removes the goggles from his eyes and gives me a soft smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes.

"That's something Grandpa's gonna have to talk to you about, Kiddo. That's history even beyond your Old Man. Now c'mere, let me show you how to light stuff on fire."

Real responsible, Pop. OOOH PRETTY FLAMES! MORE!

"Easy there, Isshi. Your mother'll kill me if you burn yourself!"

"Yes, Papa!"

I met the Patriarch of the Sekitangara family months later, when he showed up at our door unannounced, much to the chagrin of my mother.

"He's not going, Ryunosuke!" She snarled at the older man, clutching me to her chest. Not even an elder, at most he was in his early 50s. He was worn down, missing an arm, the remaining one resting on a cane as he weathered my mother's vitriol. His face was set in stone in a passive expression, and his voice was like sandpaper.

"We must at least try, Sakura-san." He spoke gently. Resigned to being the target of a protective mother's ire.

"My son will not be a soldier, Ryunosuke!" Mother shouted, and I could see tears forming in her eyes. My father finally decided to speak up in an attempt to assuage mom.

"They may not even let him enroll, with who his family is, Dear." He spoke, and I was beginning to get irritated at this drama that I had no explanation for. Civilian families had kids go to the ninja academy all the time. At least that's what I had thought, and with how our neighbors had been bragging about their kids going, I had evidence supporting that theory.

I had resigned myself to the fact that I would likely be forced by fate to attend the Shinobi Academy, but this was…weird.

My Dad eventually coaxed me out of Mom's embrace and I found myself standing next to my Grandfather, whom I had never met before today.

"This is about Mom's last wish, isn't it, Dad?" He asked, earning a slow nod.

"As I said…we must at least try. I will return him to you before sunset." And with that, my mother buried her head in my Dad's chest, crying, and my Dad had this…dread in his eyes that I would see whenever I would ask about grandpa. Now I know why.

I walked with my grandfather for a while, before he began to speak.

"I'm sure you have questions, Grandson."

"Will you answer them?" I shot back, earning a quirk of an eyebrow.

"I had intended to, now I'm uncertain." He spoke softly before shaking his head and continuing. "Your father says you're smart, observant. Tell me, what do you see when you look at me?"

I take a proper look at him at this, he's older, sure, but he's not infirm. I know he's a shinobi, but he doesn't have a headband on him, or the leaf sigil anywhere on his person. He's a mite darker than most of our neighbors. Then it clicks.

"You weren't a shinobi of the Leaf…" I whisper, earning a rueful smile from my grandfather.

"Indeed. Oh if I were, things would be so…so much easier. Your grandmother would be here with me, and we would carry you on our shoulders with pride that our grandchild would be continuing the clan legacy…unfortunately, my grandchild, fate is cruel." He speaks, continuing to walk. "I was sent to the Leaf to gather information. I came here under the guise of a simple merchant, and in the beginning, it was simple. Then, I committed the gravest sin a shinobi can do when in hostile territory."

He gives me a gentle smile at odds with the weight in his words.

"I fell in love with the enemy."

Realization hits like a runaway truck.

"You're from Stone."

"Not even enrolled and you already know who hates your home the most. Yes. I was a proud shinobi of the Hidden Stone. Until I met your grandmother. Arguably the worst person I could've fallen for, but the heart is a fickle thing, child. And Sarutobi Shion played mine like a string…I turned on my home country for her. Endured interrogation and having my mind probed by the Yamanaka. Our family would've been beautiful. Your father was just born, I had begun the process of officially becoming just a simple merchant…but Onoki does not take betrayal lightly." His voice grows shaky as he tells the story, and I see the Hokage monument in the distance, the stone eyes of the Fourth Hokage seem to bore into me.

"Your grandmother paid the price. Our family has been paying for my hubris for an entire generation now…and now it is your turn. You have her eyes, you know…I hope that is enough for Hiruzen to let go of his hatred for me, and allow you to fulfill your grandmother's last wish."

"What was her wish?" I asked in a whisper, as the academy gates got closer and closer.

"To prove that a Stone can turn over a new Leaf."