Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to Naruto or any of its trademarks, characters, places, etc.

UPDATE: Listen, since I've had Marionette up for so long I've decided to do a bit of tweaking with it. I'm not going to change the story or anything big. There are a lot of small mistakes littered around the chapters that I'd like to fix. Also, some formatting changes. And I'd like to add more details.

-1-

Out of all of the people in the world, no one can really remember the day they were born. Your first feelings, the first things you saw, your very first movements in the world, are all but a mystery. Some people however claim they were "born again" in a philosophical term usually relating to religious or other lifestyle changes. In the very darkest corners of the world however, some people get the chance at birth twice, whether intended or not. Marionette was one of those people.

If only she could remember who she was during her first birth.

I will explain that, she was once a ninja. She was an average ninja, nothing special about her. She wasn't super strong, she had no amazing relatives, no claim to fame, and she wasn't even exceptionally intelligent. Marionette's first birth was born into a poor family in Takigakure. She only decided to become a ninja as a means to support her family's well-being, even though she was neither strong nor talented.

And this is what led to the first death of her first birth.

She arrogantly tried to become a powerful ninja. She took missions that were above her abilities with teams that didn't need her lagging along. Eventually on one of these missions, her team decided that she was better off dead and let her walk right into the middle of an enemy ambush.

As you can imagine, the group of rouge ninja attacked her all at once. The bruises, the cuts, the burns, every inch of her by the end of her treatment had become disturbingly disfigured. Her team allowed the rouge ninja to cut her down then took the opportunity to sneak attack them. For all the damage that she took however, there was still enough breath in her lungs to sustain her for a trip Takigakure.

She cried out to her team-mates, "I'm alive! Can't you hear me? I'm alive! I breathe! Help me!"
But the four, who in her first birth's tainted vision all were a blood red clot, turned their backs and left her.

That is how Marionette's first birth died. She bleed to death from her injuries. A solemnly worded letter was sent to her family regarding her end. A modified version of her death was written up in the report, filed, and she was forgotten, only to rot on the floor of the forest she died in. Her first death's last image of the world was a sky full of blood red clouds.

That brings us to her second birth, Marionette.

Her body was picked up by a traveler and sold around until it made its way into the hands of a cold puppeteer who decided to give it a use. He used his jutsu to infuse a life into the husk that she became.

"Who am I?" she silently called out, the first words of her second birth. Her body had a black cloak with red clouds lying over her with a swinging dull light overhead that illuminated the clouds and gave them movement.

"You are a marionette." Her creator's voice responded from the darkness.

"What is my purpose?"

Her creator lifted the cloak from her and hung over her now breathing body, "To serve me, only me. I am your Master."

"Then I will serve you, and only you Master," she chanted obediently while gazing over to where her master was rummaging through a cabinet.

"I admit my Marionette, you are the first of my subjects that has displayed any form of conscience," he set a black cloak with red clouds and set of traditional ninja garments beside her and took a step back to face his creation, "I want you to get dressed."

Marionette looked down at the clothes that were placed beside naked and scarred body, "How does one get dressed?"

Her master rubbed his chin in thought, "So you need to be re-taught basic skills before I can put you to use..."

"Oh but Master, I want to be a use to you! Let me serve you," she hysterically called out to him.

"Learning will allow you to serve me. You must learn and continue to do so," he walked back over to her and lifted the garments one at a time, "I will instruct you on dressing today, and tomorrow you must do it yourself."

With each item of clothing came a new texture, a new experience for her. She had never worn clothes before in her second birth. She looked up at her master in her new layers, "What are these called?"

"Clothes, my marionette, you wear clothes."

"What do these clothes do Master?" she asked as she rustled around in them.

"It would depend on the type of clothes. Your clothes now are to protect your delicate body from the elements and to display allegiance."

Marionette seemed astounded by all of the words her Master spoke to her, "Will I ever learn as you Master?"

"You will, but it will take some practice. We will start with reading and vocabulary tomorrow," her master took two books and laid them beside the cold operating table she sat on.

"What will I learn today Master?" she asked, trying to make sense of the many lines and symbols she saw on the book covers.

"Nothing. It's night, the time at the end of a day cycle. You must sleep now. There is a bed in this room which you will sleep on. We will work in the morning, that's the time at the beginning of a day cycle," her master put emphasize on any new words he said.

Through the darkness came a light, a light bright enough so that Marionette could see around her room. It was very quaint. The operating table that she sat on was at one side of the room and a window with closed shutters stood opposite her. To her left was her bed; to her right was a desk with several books on it. Above the desk was a locked tool and supplies cabinet. On the other side of her bed stood the door which her master, whose red hair she could see with the light, had just closed and locked.

Marionette looked at the ground below her; she reached out with her toe to feel it. Realizing that it would not hurt her, she sat her foot down on it, then her other foot. But as she slid off of the operating table, she fell onto the floor. Her newly restored muscles did not have the strength they once did, or the muscle memory that once allowed her first birth to walk.

She reached out with both of her hands, simply practicing how to move her fingers and hands as her first birth had. She waded on the floor for a bit until she reached her bed, climbing up onto it and into it. She laid there on her back looking up at the wood ceiling above her, like her first birth had during her final moments. Within a few hours of staring up, her body began to sleep and her second birth experienced her first dreams.