I have no explanation really. This idea took formation in my brain and refused to let go. And I don't believe I've ever seen an OC in this exact position before.

Unextraordinary will be updated very soon but until then I hope new and old readers give Alignment and my new OC a go! She is very different to Komatsu, and this story will take the direction I really wished I'd taken with Unextraordinary. The ripple effects in Naruto are immense, so by the time you reach the graduation Arc, it's very hard to change a lot without seeming cliche. Here though, I'll have a lot more freedom in characterisation and terms of plot, since not much detail is really given in this time period, especially the Hyuuga.

So, please give this a go! I've got more chapters after the two I'm uploading but I'm trying to create a backlog so I've always got something to upload.

Dying hadn't been pleasant. More pleasant than starvation, but regardless, I'd prefer not to repeat the experience. Darkness had comforted me where material had not, and I had thought I could handle its companionship for a millennium. So, finding myself looking down at blurry chubby fingers and giants lumbering around me?

This is why I was an atheist, dammit.

When I began crying, fat tears rolling over my quivering lips, a pair of hands gently rocked me and someone—a woman, I think?—attempted to soothe me. The song was a favourite of mine, though I found myself slightly irritated.

I couldn't have been born in a country of a language I was native in?

I'd studied Japanese in my previous life—and not just by watching anime. My photograph with my host family was my most precious possession, hanging next to my Naruto scroll on my old bedroom's wall. But the strangers', whose faces I could still not make out thanks to my mediocre senses (god babies were useless), were using a strange, almost archaic dialect. My vocabulary was limited to the occasional word or even less since my ears could not be bothered working properly just yet. After a week, the woman no longer slept with me, or did I sleep with them?

They were kind and gentle with me; the woman, who I assumed was my mother judging by the way she was holding me, especially. The second most prominent figure by my side seemed to be a man—my father? He was stiff whenever he held me, tense and afraid of upsetting me. Mostly because the first time he did take me I had gotten so comfortable in my mother's arms to be ripped away caused me to howl. Since then I'd made the effort to coo up at him, reaching out my ugly little fingers to his long locks. He crooned in return, grasping them and shaking them about. My mother would giggle at him and he'd smile good naturedly in return, unashamed in his affections, a rather bizarre twist in my personal experience. It continued this way for some weeks and I rarely saw the outside of my room and a few hallways. We lived in a very traditional home so we must've been a wealthy country family, I thought. Though, I wondered how we managed to attain so much food. Did Japan not get wiped by the last tsunami? Weren't all the rice fields either flooded or burnt to a crisp? My stomach growled and I quickly forgot all contradictions in the space time continuum.

Sixty. There were sixty rivets holding the room together. Twenty tatami mats. Forty four squares lining her walls. One inhabitant and absolutely zilch to do. Physically, I was only a few weeks old, and so far I'd been able to sleep the most of it away. In that instance, being a pile of blubber helped, I guessed. I could make out features of faces now, and I was immensely troubled by my parents' eyes. Were they both somehow blind? Did they not know what I looked like? Was it the result of the Fukushima Reaction? I wanted answers but all I could do was gape at them in awe. To whittle away the time before and after my parents came in I practised speaking, moving my mouth and tongue in ways I was not aware it could, having been tongue tied in a previous life.

Life—what life? A country, I was born in a country. Australia? Or the island next to it? Hot, it was hot. Too hot; boiling—sand—no food. Mum when are you coming home, Gracie won't stop crying I need your help—

Learning Japanese would be far easier than actually pronouncing it, I grumbled. I did garble often in my parents' presence to encourage them to speak to me. I would learn about this strange fantasy Japan, I decided. So, when my new mother curled her arms around me, I sighed contentedly and lay silently. They would not speak around a noisy child. To begin with, they both just stared down at me, apprehensive and shoulders hunched. I was their first I assumed. Maybe I was also an accident. A tidbit to be stored, I thought. They called my name often enough for me to now associate it as my own.

Hiyaku—to be swift or speedy. I hoped it wasn't a sign of their expectations of me, reincarnation aside. They were in my room often, though not often enough for my stimulation. It was only ever them, much to my disappointment. My mother was awfully beautiful, I remember thinking one day, patting her cheek. But she was also awfully sick, and I wondered if such things went hand in hand. Father—what a weird word to associate a stranger with—often took me from her when she coughed too loudly, much to my disappointment. I did have an attachment to the man who so often called me 'Hiyaku-hime' but I had always been a mummy's girl. I always knew when they planned on opening the door, and I couldn't for the life of me figure out why. When I grew up, I made a note to become a doctor. All this unprecedented knowledge on the physiology of infants would make me millions. Or at least a permanent roof over my head. I'd spent my time uneasy though, being in the presence of strangers. A name to the face would make things easier, end the disconnect between my life and…this one.

One day, I found out their identity, as well as so much more than I had ever wanted to know.

A third figure entered the room with my parents and I was terrified when he looked exactly like my father, from the loose brown curls framing his face to the twist in his grin. My mother laughed sweetly as my eyes darted between the two men, both holding their arms out to me. My mother stopped instantly when I began wailing and stretched my tiny hands towards her. She scooped me up and shushed me gently.

"Oh Hiyaku-chan, were the nasty men bothering you?" One immediately looked sheepish, while the other far more amused. I decided the former to be my father and sniffled for a while longer before holding out a chubby hand to him. He took the peace offering carefully, apologising profusely to his 'hime.' "There we go, much better. See that man, he looks just like Otou-san, doesn't he?" I would've nodded if I could've. "Say hello to your Hiashi-ojisan, Hiyaku-chan," she passed me to the lavender eyed man and I took a sharp breath.

That's...

"If it isn't the Hyuuga's newest princess?" He chuckled, cradling me in his arms rather expertly. Funny, I think. He looks rather young. "Hizashi and Haruhi-nee have been so secretive of you, I was beginning to think you were imaginary."

Hizashi Hyuuga—my father Hizashi Hyuuga—harrumphed, his eyes (the Hyuuga eyes Jesus Christ how'd I forget) narrowed. This was a world where children died. This was a world where two out of three figures here were deceased. This was a world where my presumed brother was going t for my cousin.

Mum, he's not breathing—no I can't wait until you get here, give me a fucking clue! He was just in the pool and then he—I know I shouldn't have let him, but—

Hell no, to the no

no

n o.

I beat my fists against the Hyuuga clan's future hand, screeching as loudly as my small lungs could.

"Looks like she's already got a problem with authority," Hizashi said with a smug grin.

I stopped my flailing, if just to beam at my father.

My father's a fucking ledge at least, I thought before assaulting my esteemed Uncle once more.

As for now, read, fave/follow and review!-specially that last part, it really motivates me.