Dismantled Pattern

Disclaimer: All rights belong to Kishimoto. If it did belong to me, I would not be ending the series so abruptly (while I respect his choices, I am still very upset about that). The only thing mine is Noriko, an OC SI (and she is completely different from myself).

Warning: A pairing will arise in the distant future that may or may not involve a main character of this story. Writing romance is particularly challenging for me so this will become a focal point when the time comes. I might have to add another character to this story then. However, this will only be ONE aspect of my story. It is not listed under romance because it's about my OC's life as a whole.

Note: I will be attempting to stick to the way Japanese culture works, so things such as names will be: last name, first name. There is no beta, so there will be mistakes. I did try to the best of my ability to look up everything properly. Reviews are welcome. :)

ooo

Chapter One

I never understood the idea of yin and yang in my previous life. How could two opposites not only complement each other, but create a whole? However, only now in my old age could I attest to its validity. For the idea of yin and yang describes me perfectly. Comparing my past life with the early years of my reincarnation was like looking at yin and yang. Oh, not in a moral sense (I was never some serial killer, gangster, etc.). It was my overall view of life, my personality, and the beliefs that made me who I was.

In my previous life, my personality was cheerful and full of hope. There were trials, but nothing big. Definitely could call it my "yang period" so to speak. I had a loving family that watched out for one another. I was meticulous in integrating my dreams into goals. Everything was on track and moving forward. My admission to the first university of my choice had just been secured. The best news, in my opinion at least, was that my ten year old brother, who had autism, had started to improve his interactions with the family. Unfortunately, this all came to a screeching halt soon after my eighteenth birthday. The reason: my death. Though, I guess it would be more accurate to say my life came to a screeching halt.

As if that wasn't bad enough, Somebody or Something had the audacity to reincarnate me, which was not at all what it first appeared to be in many stages.

In my first life, I had loved learning about different cultures, governments, dynasties, and other aspects of the world. However, none of these historical facts could have ever prepared me for the new life I would live, which I can undeniably call the "yin period" during my youth.

ooo

For all my supposed intelligence it took me some time to figure out what was going on in the beginning. My impressions of the womb consisted of me thinking I had gone blind to my theory of a possible coma induced nightmare of a wacked up prison. The memory of my death had been unconsciously suppressed.

I'll spare you the horrid details of my actual birth (and for someone with germaphobia that was nightmare inducing).

It was only until my vision started working properly that I entered a state of intense denial. I blocked everything out of my mind. The continual cycle of sleeping, feeding, and crying aided that. As months passed, I hardly ever moved out of curiosity, which meant I never tried to crawl. This worried the person taking care of me, which happened to be an old woman. Eventually she went on a campaign to make me crawl around. This was when I noticed that an elderly woman was taking care of me. That's also when I began to allow myself to think. One of which happened to be, "Why are my hands so small and pudgy?" As a baby you really don't have much choice in matters, so I began to weakly crawl around the floor. The sensations of crawling, the rough scrape of the floor and the effort it took to move my appendages was awkward. While looking around the room, I concluded that I was in some kind of nursery. It struck me as very unusual though. There were so many details in the room. It had weird mats on the floor that I could see the individual strands of woven together. There was a table of some sort with a woven cloth on it that I could touch. The texture of the cloth was soft and a lovely deep purple color. When I looked up, the old woman was smiling and I could make out all the wrinkles on her face. Yeah, that began the journey to solidify that this was real. No way would I imagine so many minute details.

As all this was happening, my mind suddenly unlocked the memory of my death, which came sharply into focus as I had been running my hands over the purple cloth. Shortly after that I passed out.

ooo

Upon waking, I went over my most recent experience. Everything was so clear. There was no haziness at all. I tried to go through logical conclusions and eventually established that I was somehow reborn again. Then I began to cry because I knew there was no way I'd ever see my family again.

Again I worried the old woman taking care of me because now all I did was cry and scream until I made myself hoarse. The old woman became concerned, but I did not care. I didn't care if I hurt myself. I didn't care if she worried. All I thought about was my family. I thought of the hugs my father gave me. The way my mom would bake cookies in the winter and serve them with her special cinnamon cocoa. My brother's train set that he'd interconnect all over the house that would drive me crazy with its continual racket. It broke my heart that I would never again experience any of these things.

This realization was so detrimental for me. All my dreams connected to my family. I wanted to teach children with special needs – children like my little brother. I wanted to get married with my family planning and attending it. I wanted to have kids and let my parents babysit. I wanted to watch over my little brother as he grew up.

Day after day, I kept grieving. I pretty much just went through the motions. I never moved on my own again. Until one day someone new came into the room. It was a young woman, maybe in her early twenties. She was carrying a small scroll. She made her way to the table and gestured for me to come over. I couldn't help but wonder if this was the woman who gave birth to me. As I clumsily crawled over, she spoke to me for the first time and I realized she was speaking a different language.

At that moment, I realized how, despite my new acceptance of this place, I was quite oblivious. Again she spoke and I froze at one word she said. She had spoken slowly and carefully, as one often does to babies. The word that really grabbed my attention though was Ojou-sama. My first thought about that was, "Somebody woke up on the wrong side of the bed. What did I ever do to her that she's using sarcasm on a baby?" Then another thought occurred to me, "What if that's who I am?" She had said it with a straight face, but she had an oddly blank look about her.

Well I'd just have to wait and see. Though I did find out that she was not my mother. Turns out she happened to be my teacher based off the repeated pointing to herself and saying, "Fujioka-sensei." I guess my face looked lost or something when I had spaced out over the whole Ojou-sama thing.

Huh, I guess that means the floor is made of tatami mats. Good thing I'd been paying attention to all those animes I used to watch or I'd have never figure this stuff out.

All of a sudden my face was slapped. What the heck? When I looked over to Fujioka-sensei, I realized that I must have been spacing out for a long time. The slap was unnecessarily rude though. It would be my luck that corporal punishment existed here.

Deciding to try to pay attention to avoid more slaps, I began listening. She stayed with me for about an hour and then left finally. That was the day I learned my name. It was Fukui Noriko.

ooo

As the days wore on, I wondered why on earth someone as young as I would have a private teacher. As I began paying attention with renewed interest, no small feat for one as young as myself, I started putting the pieces together. I had many toys (up to this point ignored), was constantly called Ojou-sama, and had beautiful silk clothes. It quickly verified that I must come from a wealthy family. Well, it also told me how much I still retreated into myself that none of these facts had clicked with me.

According to my understanding, my parents must have handed over my care to the old woman so that they would be free to do as they wished. I figured that if corporal law was in, then it wouldn't be too far a leap in logic to assume that a baby girl might not be as valuable as a boy. In addition, I had no idea if they had visited me and I didn't respond so they thought they'd try again when I'm older. It could also be that they really just didn't care due to my gender, were spoiled rich adults partying it up, or both. Only time would tell.

Besides figuring out that I was oblivious, there were other consequences to my introverted behavior. Up to now, I had been ignoring everything since I was mourning my family. What I came to see was that my motor skills and learning ability to talk had been severely hindered.

I had recently figured out that I was about one and a half years old. Being able to barely crawl around and only just now making "goo goo gaga" sounds was behind the development of a normal child.

Making the correct syllables was difficult for me. Picking up words and learning their meanings was even more so. Anything Fujioka-sensei did was. It was due to my slow development in these departments that I gained a reputation as being slow and simple. I didn't care though. The only reason that I even tried to learn was because I knew I couldn't live properly without being able to speak, read, and write.

ooo

I didn't panic until I turned three. Due to my status, I hardly ever left my room. Anything I needed was brought to me. On rare occasions the old woman, whose name I never learned so was forced to call Obasan (1), would take me out to play in the gardens. It was super fancy. My family was totally loaded.

However, one day Fujioka-sensei came to the subject of where we lived. She had pulled out a map and was pointing to the little dot where we lived. As soon as she mentioned Kumogakure, my mind went blank. I had been assuming my reincarnation had taken place in a future that had to revert back to a more primitive existence because people had finally succumbed to bombing the planet on a global scale with hardly any survivors where knowledge was lost.

The only type of modern convenience my dwelling had was running water and toilets, which was the bare minimum I could deal with. I had continually been on the lookout for technology of any sort in my new life since I came from a culture saturated in advanced technology. If there was any to be had, my new family had to own it since we were filthy rich. Unfortunately there had been absolutely nothing. The only thing that came close was a camera that looked like the one Abraham Lincoln would have used.

My vocabulary was still brokenly coming along despite Fujioka-sensei's best attempts to make me speak well. In addition, my writing skills were coming along horribly because of my motor skill problems and already having English programmed into my brain. Although, I could read just fine. Turns out my mind was great.

However, it did not help my reputation of being slow and simple by squeaking out a horrified, "W-What?"

Fujioka-sensei replied with, "I said we live in Kumogakure. Your father holds an important job here."

"Are you sure?" If I didn't calm down, I was going to start hyperventilating soon.

"Yes. I'm sure." I vaguely noticed that she was looking at me funny. As if I was a particularly dumb insect.

She continued, "Your father, Fukui Yuki-sama, was given this job by the daimyo himself. He is the liaison between the political court in the capitol and this village. As the younger brother of the daimyo, it is a privilege and honor for you to uphold the Fukui clan."

Oh, well, that would explain all the lectures I tuned out about honoring the clan name. The name Fukui means "fortunate," which makes sense since we're part of the royal clan.

At first I had ignored the lectures on honor because neither of my new parents ever came to see me. Then the lectures just became tedious since Fujioka-sensei wouldn't shut up about it. If I hadn't had a normal life before this, I would be so arrogant at this point. Now I felt bad for judging and making fun of all those important political people before I died.

Then my mind stopped again because I realized that she was talking about living in a ninja village as if that was normal. Yes, as far-fetched as reincarnation had seemed, I did believe in the unexplainable supernatural, so I had come to accept it.

Living in a ninja village was an entirely different kettle of fish. Not only that, but Kumogakure? Some place a guy in Japan made up for Naruto? Uh-uh, no way. The name had immediately registered because that was my favorite anime.

Though this was an awfully long dream or coma I had been imaging for about two and a half years (the first half year I was in denial).

Maybe . . .

No!

I had to keep it together.

A resounding smack came across my cheek. Fujioka-sensei did not appreciate being ignored. That certainly made it seem real. The corporal punishment had continued over my time with her. I could never avoid it that often because I would often have trouble keeping up with what we studied. When that happened, Fujioka-sensei would grow impatient with me and punish me. There was hardly ever any big punishments, mostly just hard slaps. However, it did make my resentment grow towards my new parents. In my previous life, I had been scolded yes, but I always knew I was loved. There were no such reassurances here.

It was also due to my slow progress that we were only now getting to geography. Eventually the lesson ended and I was free to think to myself.

Was I crazy? I'd read about mental illnesses. This didn't seem like one of those. All mental illnesses had their victim in some way aware of their environment. I knew for a fact I was not in my old world. I was also 100% sure my death was not imagined. My murder had been brutal. The killer had wanted me to see myself dying. She had ripped my heart from me and I had faded out afterwards.

My mind was chaotic. In the coming months it really reinforced the idea to my sensei and Obasan that I was slow. It was hard for me to concentrate since I was consumed with understanding my situation.

ooo

A year passed by. To this day I had never celebrated my birthday because I received many gifts all year round, so it was deemed unnecessary. The only problem I had with this was that my parents had still made no effort at all to see me. I wasn't selfish, I knew there were orphans and other poverty stricken people out there who would kill to be in my position. However, I got lonely. My sensei and Obasan treated me in a professional manner. There was hardly any physical contact. I knew from before I died that kids needed stuff like hugs growing up. This was never lacking the first time I grew up. I felt the loss keenly here.

Most importantly, I finally came to the conclusion at four years old that I would just believe in this place for now or I would not be able to function. Some allowances had been made due to my station and age, but this would not last for much longer. My lessons had been increasing. Partly because I took so long learning everything. That early time period of denial and mourning, where I did absolutely nothing, really held me back even now. Newly added to my lessons were the feminine arts and proper etiquette.

Another reason I decided to just accept this place was because I did not want to imagine that I would impose this kind of torture upon my mind. It was easier this way.

I had also decided to keep my reputation as being slow. As I had come to understand, high born girls had very few rights. Fujioka-sensei never said it outright, it was in the things she left out of her explanations. If I wasn't mentally older, it would have gone over my head. This made me want to observe more, unhindered by any expectations. There were only ninja guarding the perimeter of our estate. I had overheard Fujioka-sensei talking to Obasan about it one day so I didn't need to worry about them for now.

As soon as I had finished thinking that, Fujioka-sensei came into my room. Today's lesson would be over sewing and table manners. Interestingly enough, a few of my habits from before my death had carried over. I was horrible at using chopsticks correctly. These were rare though. Mostly everything was new. For instance, I used to hate eating fish and now it was a favorite.

Despite everything that had happened so far, I still thought of my previous family often. It was the only comfort I ever received here. However, it also caused my resentment of this world to grow exponentially. It had gotten so bad that the only times I ever smiled or laughed was when I thought of them. It didn't concern my sensei or Obasan because I smiled and laughed often enough – though at weird moments, which increased my reputation. This worked for me. I wanted to keep it that way.

ooo

My fifth birthday was nearing now. I honestly thought it would be like the years previous, but I was wrong.

When Obasan came in today I knew something was up. She only ever looked shifty when she had bad news. I waited for her to clue me in though. No need to advertise my observation skills.

"Ojou-sama, your birthday is in two days," she began.

"Oh?" I said. Once, I got a look in the mirror this past year. Mirrors weren't considered suitable baby gifts until recently. Turns out that I'm adorable. I could tell I was going to have one of those extremely cutesy faces. I had red hair and violet eyes with flecks of gold. Too bad Rurouni Kenshin wasn't my dad – that would've been better than this. To get back on track, I was currently using my looks to advantage.

There was a pause.

"Fukui Nadeshiko-sama, your mother, will be seeing you," she said.

That was actually quite shocking. I mean, it was bound to happen sometime, but after my fourth birthday I never thought of either of my parents.

I gave her a deer-in-the-headlights look because I honestly did not know how to react.

"You will be going over the proper etiquette to greet her today with Fujioka-sensei . . . Ojou-sama," she continued. It was obvious she was expecting more of a reaction, but I no longer wanted anything to do with my mother or father.

"I will try to please her," I said. This seemed to satisfy Obasan.

Over the next two days I was drilled exhaustingly over every little movement. Nothing was left out - my posture, my bow, the way I held my head. Of course, I was still clumsy (not intentionally), but they told me in a bemoaning manner that it would have to do.

I wasn't nervous to meet my mother at all. There were no expectations on my part. I merely considered her the woman who donated her DNA to create me. Though I did wonder why she wished to see me now.

ooo

My mother was a beautiful woman. I had many of her features. The only thing from my father seemed to be my violet eyes. My mother's eyes were forest green. I also had a red forehead that she did not, but that was from when I tripped over my long formal robes walking in.

She studied me from across the table. That was really the only way to describe it. From the moment I had walked in she had fastened her eyes on me and carefully examined all my movements. It wasn't in a friendly and curious "I want to know you better" way either. It was professional. The feeling reminded me of a horse breeder examining one of their herd. I had the insane urge to show her my teeth and say, "They're nice and clean aren't they? Only the finest from Fukui stables."

Thankfully, she began talking before I could follow through on that. She probably would not have appreciated the sarcasm. Pity.

"It is time to discuss your duty to the family Noriko-san," she said.

"Hai (2), Nadeshiko-sama," I replied. Yes, I was supposed to address her this way. In some noble houses you can call your parents father and mother, but not the Fukui. My clan supposedly values formality due to being part of the same clan as the daimyo. This was stressed even more so for my family since the daimyo was my uncle and therefore closely related.

It just made me thankful that I had experienced a happy family life that I could hold close to me. I didn't want to think about what I'd be like if I had no memories of my first family. Though at the same time I was a bit angry too.

"Danna-sama and I have arranged a betrothal for you. On your eighteenth birthday you will be married. Do you understand?" she asked me seriously.

"Hai, Nadeshiko-sama," I repeated obediently.

"Very well, you are dismissed," she ended.

Once I was back in my room and changed out of my formal attire (that took two hours to put on and is absolutely ridiculous for a kid), I was left alone. I was glad because shortly afterwards I reached my boiling point. I could not believe she summoned me like an animal. No, I was less than that. I was merely a business commodity to my parents. I knew how my name was spelled. Noriko can have many meanings, but I had thought mine odd at first. Only now do I see what it meant.

The literal meaning was "pattern child." My parents obviously wanted me to follow the pattern they have outlined for my life to further elevate themselves as befitting of the daimyo's clan.

Oh I'd humor them. I'd do as they asked – but only for the time being. One of the things this life had taught me was patience.

There was only so much activity you could do by yourself in one room and the gardens. It didn't help that my mentality was so much older. This led to me taking up meditation. Not in the traditional way. I would just sit by my window or in the garden and think for hours. The spacey look in my eyes did wonders for my reputation.

So I would wait for any chance I could use. In the meantime, I would observe and learn as much as possible.

ooo

(1) I'm using Obasan because the old woman is NOT her grandmother (which is Obaasan). She is just an older woman.

(2) Hai was the only term I felt that could fully express her response to her mother due to the various ways it is used in anime.

A/N: I am going to see how this does before posting another chapter.