It's in the luck of the draw, baby.
The natural law.
Forget those movies you saw, little baby.
It's in the luck of the draw.

- Luck of the Draw, Bonnie Raitt (1991).

"English, what our main character speaks."

"Chinese, what everyone else speaks, unless stated otherwise."

'Thoughts.'

Note: Each elemental nation has it's own personal language. For the common tongue, the language is vaguely similar to Mandarin Chinese except archaic in its usage. Also, much like in Quebec, Canada; where children learn both Canadian French as well as English, so do the children in the Land of Fire learn the pseudo-Japanese and pseudo-Chinese. This is in part because of the founding clans; the Senju (Shen-Yu) is Chinese in origin and the Uchiha is Japanese in origin.

For the Land of Fire, the national language is Japanese, but if speaking formally at work/on-duty or to strangers or just in serious situations so there can be no mistake of the meaning, Chinese is the default.

Eventually, when our main character starts speaking the languages more, Chinese will be this, and Japanese will be this.

Day One.

When I first became Aware, I was pretty disorientated and not completely present. It was like waking up from a long, half-remembered dream that faded away with each passing second until you couldn't remember it at all, leaving confusion and lingering exhaustion. I took in everything around me with a sort of distant interest, as if looking through a window or a screen.

Green filled my vision until my eyes focused on what was right in front of my nose. It took a moment to register what it was, a four-leaf clover. 'Aren't those things supposed to be lucky?', I wondered haltingly, mind stuttering and thoughts disjointed. Clumsily reaching out, missing it at first and then nearly crushing it when I sluggishly dragged my hand closer to my face where the clover was, I plucking it. Absently twirling it between my thumb and fore-finger, green tinged my fingers, as my vision came in and out of focus. I eventually closed my eyes to rest then for a moment to gather my bearings.

A cool breeze blew across the clearing, making the clover wave slightly in my fingers' clutches and me shiver, chilled to the bone, despite the breeze being somewhat warm. I was completely soaked to the bone and lay there on the grass, tired and utterly listless. I didn't want to do anything but lie there. My thoughts spun on in lazy circles, much like a hawk would in the muggy summer air as it hunted.

Instead of lowly prey, though, I trying to rally my memories and sort through them. Everything was fuzzy, more than anything else, the only thing I was absolutely certain of was that I had been dead — was dead. Tenses were a bit blurry at the moment, extremely unsure and ambiguous. A feeling told me that they had been both correct when concerning me at one point, much like Schrodinger's cat. But exact tenses didn't exactly matter as much as the underlying cause behind them. Of how they came to be.

It took awhile for the memory to finally reappear from the black abyss. It brought images of churning murky waters and long red hair disappearing into the depths, of stormy skies and the sparking of lights —

It was the End, the end of everything. The flood that came and washed everything away, washed us all away.

— I'm alone now. The realization hit me like a bolt of lightning; my eyes snapping open looking frantically about for someone that wasn't there. My sister was nowhere in sight. Something felt so very wrong. Nothing felt right, my surrounding were strange and my body felt weird. Scratch that, everything felt weird, a pervading sense of wrongness. It coated the very air I breathed —

Like you don't belong here. Like you shouldn't exist.

— but the trouble was that everything looked normal despite being unfamiliar; everything should have been normal. I was flabbergasted, completely puzzled at my growing feeling of unease. 'But it isn't normal, I know it's not normal; so what's missing? What's wrong? What's different?'

I held my hand in front of my face, staring at it, hoping to find answers, but not expecting any. My analytical mind picking up all the little details. Its paleness from the cold and previous ill-health. The dainty looking fingers, long and thin like a pianist's. Faint traces of colored polish on the short nails, but most of it's gone at this point. The wrinkles were... I paused.

My thoughts stormed forward upon noticing the difference, the wrongness. 'There are fewer wrinkles on my hands than there were before. Speaking of my hands, they are smaller, tiny, actually. My feet are smaller too.' I heaved myself up with a groan to sit properly and immediately noticed more of the differences. Mainly me being so much closer to the ground than I should be and my shirt being far too big as well as discolored from the water —

The water…

— a memory sprung up, unbidden, unwanted —

The water which rose up so quickly around us, leaving my sister and I no time to —

"Stop!" I screamed, the sudden noise slamming into the memory and disrupting it for a moment, for a split-second. It was all I needed, a distraction, somewhat hysterically I mumbled to myself, "Assets, assets, what are my assets?"

One shirt.
One four-leaf clover.
One smaller-than-last-checked body.
And no idea what went wrong or what to do...

"Ugh, so much for that," I huffed before snarking to myself with biting sarcasm. "I'm cold and might be dying of hypothermia, and not much I can do about it, greeeeat." Not to mention the fact I was already dead. Possibly. Maybe. Probably.

I took off my drenched shirt, setting it down on top of the grass. I completely flattened and straightened out for the sun can dry it off before laying back down myself, hoping that sunbathing might help. Actually, it's so warm out here, it would pretty hard for me to die of hypothermia in this weather. After a moment's pause, I rolled in the grass, hoping it would help with my drying process. It didn't do much of anything, except to make some blades of greenery stick to awkward places.

I took a deep breath of air, laboring slightly. It was hard to breathe, the air was heavier than usual, almost as if it was humid. Was it summer still? I had thought it was starting to head into autumn...? Then again, maybe not. It might've warmed up slightly, God knows that the weather had been absolutely insane during these past few days. Who's to say that it couldn't have gotten at least thirty degrees warmer? A sunny and hot seventy to the bleak and brisk forty? It wasn't impossible.

I wheezed a little, choking on the heavy air. I got worried and more than a little apprehensive. I didn't have my inhaler on me. I could really do without an asthma attack, thank you. I rolled onto my side, so that I could breathe easier. Removing the bits of grass, I took a critical eye to my bare body.

I had to be a child.

I didn't appear to be too awfully young, but it was hard to tell the exact age. I couldn't have been older than three and I couldn't have been younger than one. I couldn't be older than a three-year-old, because my body wasn't quite proportioned like one yet, my limbs had yet to lengthen and lose their stubbiness. Plus, my motor skills weren't very experienced. I couldn't be younger than a one-year-old, because most of the baby fat had diminished; however, that might've been because I hadn't eaten any real food for days… I assumed I was old enough to walk.

I tested this by standing up with only a little bit of difficulty, stretching my legs as I gazed around me. I was in a clearing, a fair-sized one that might have stretched a mile or two, surrounded by trees. The only body of water in the vicinity was a modest pond which I eyed warily. It didn't swell, rise, or flood, so I relaxed slightly.

I was afraid of it, afraid of the pond. Well, not so much the pond itself, but the water in the pond. I was terrified of it, which was a strange and hard concept for me to swallow. I had always loved water, swimming in it, ice skating on it, floating on top of it. Water had always been a part of my life...and death.

Freezing, stinging, going over my head — our heads — as it continued on its destructive path, raging and roaring.

Trembling, I collapsed to my knees, my breath coming and going with frantic little gasps and pants as my heartbeat accelerated to that of a cornered mouse. Memories started to flood — to engulf — my thoughts, until it was the only thing I could think of, the only thing I was aware of. They were pervading my senses so completely, so entirely, I wasn't completely sure what was real and what wasn't.

I covered my ears to drown — to muffle — the sound of the deadly, murdering waters. It's not enough.

It's not enough!

I press my hands so tightly against my ears that my head started to hurt and my knuckles turned white.

Still, I can hear its maddening, deadening sound!

I scream.

I can't stop.

I just scream and scream and scream.

Water forcing its way down my throat, choking, gagging, gasping. Pain.

I bite my arm. The skin is a vicious, angry red around my teeth. The screaming is dying away, choked by the warm and salty tears rolling down my face.

Her hand, which had clasped so tightly with mine, went slack in its death-grip with my hand. Without its help in keeping our hands together, the current easily ripped us apart like so much wet paper.

The tears wouldn't stop; they kept falling onto my skin with its sickly pallor. Sobs from deep within me wracked my small frame. The screaming was replace with little keening sounds as I started to rock back and forth. My mind was swept of all its logic and reason, there was only the repeating, chanting thought of, She's gone. She's gone. She's gone.

Bile crept up my throat, and I dry heaved. I had nothing left in my stomach, except for the hard to swallow pill of reality and the cold stones of bitter grief. I felt like my heart had become this strange black hole, causing this heavy, burdensome weight in my chest, making my world seem to crash around me.

For the first time in a long time, I wanted my mom.

I wanted her to hold me, hold me like I was a little girl, scared from the creatures under the bed and hiding in the closet. I missed so badly, a deep primal longing that made me want to run, to fight, just to be at her side again. As it was, not even my sister was here to attempt to distract me from —

Oh Dear God, my sister. My friend who I chose to be my sister and me, hers. Sisters who were sisters because it was more than friendship or anything so mundane as blood. Self-proclaimed, adopted, selected, the exact words didn't matter, the result was the same, something special. Something wonderful and untouched by society's dirty fingers, not contorted into something else because they couldn't understand.

And it was gone. I had messed up. I made the wrong choice.

"I'm sorry," I sobbed miserably, curling into the fetal position on the ground and remaining that way for an unmarked amount of time. I thought with a bitterness about how the rest of the world was able to continue to live on and move and grow and change around me while I remained unmoved, trapped in my grief.

How could the sun still shine?
The world still turn?
Everything still exist?
...How could I still survive?

I damned myself for that last thought, for my selfishness, but I knew that what was done was done and that there wasn't anything I could do about it... She would be already up and moving, trying to find a way to survive, to find civilization, and find a way to be assured of her continued survival until the next day... That's how I wish that she would've acted if our positions had been switched. That didn't make it any easier, though. I cried until I couldn't cry anymore, snot dripping down into my trembling mouth before I wiped it away with the back of my hand. My eyes puffy and sore, head throbbing from the stress.

I checked my shirt. It was still damp, but I wore it anyway. Assets update:

Plus:
One broken heart.
And one new phobia.

'What else had changed? Am I still the same?' My attention, unbidden, wandered over towards the pond. I got up and haltingly walked towards it. My new, inexperienced limbs were not the only cause of my faltering steps.

I hated it.

I hated it so, so very much, but I needed to know.

I sat by the pond and looked into the water. It wasn't stagnate — it was probably fed by a small stream that I couldn't see — so it was clear, transparent, and contained no algae. However, I couldn't see my face very clearly as it was becoming dark outside and my shadow got in the way. From what I could tell, though, my white hair had stayed white and remained the same length as before. My chapped lips cracked a brief smile at the memory of my long hair catching on fire and consequently having to be shaved bald to treat the third-degree burns. I was just lucky that my hair had grown back at all, even if it was no longer its beautiful, blonde color that I had gotten from Mom.

I couldn't see what color my eyes were, but I assumed that they were still blue in color. All in all, I think still mostly looked the same as before the End, just younger. I wondered if I still had all my scars that I had collected over the years. I checked, but found myself puzzled when the scars I had memories of were gone. None of them were there anymore, but instead replaced with others that I couldn't recognize or remember. The implications were unsettling.

It was so... so strange. Why would my hair still be colorless and not go back to its natural color while all my scars pull a disappearing act only to be replaced with others?

Even just ignoring that, I was young again, my body returned back to my two-year-old body — my closest guess to my age, a happy medium — and therefore back to my two-year-old problems. I had been in the hospital a few times already by the time I was this age, and my asthma was only one of the reasons I was there, but certainly not the least…

I stayed there beside the pond, beside meaning a good two yards away from the edge of the water, and I looked into its depths, watching small fish dart around. I listened to the birds call to each other, the frogs ribbit, and the insects make their noises. The sun started to dip lower and lower, the twilight quickly becoming night.

The shirt was no longer adequate for shielding me from the elements. I was cold again, sensitive to the cooler temperatures, even though I've lived in a northern region all my life. I was too chilled to be comfortable but still warm enough to where I haven't started to shiver yet, a disgruntling limbo.

I didn't sleep that night.

Day Two.

When I first saw him, fear quickly caught me in its irrational talons, startled screams catching and canceling each other out in my throat from their panicked need to leave my mouth. Scenes from horror movies began to play in my head. I thought of Jason when I saw that mask, even though they looked nothing alike.

For one thing, it wasn't a hockey mask. It was a plain white mask, carved and painted to look something like a dog. For another thing, this guy didn't have a bloody weapon and appeared to be unarmed. Still, I crawled away from him backwards, doing the crab walk, as he started to walk towards me. He put up his hands in the gesture of peace meant to put me at ease and slowed his stride to small, measured steps. The man then uttered something in a placating tone — in a language that I couldn't understand, "Hey there, it's all right, I won't hurt you."

Surprise stilled my movements. I had assumed that I was still in the general area of home, the rural-ness of it all certainly had a hand in this, and it hadn't occurred to me that, that might not be the case. Soon, he was right in front of me, crouching down to my level and continued to talk in a way meant to soothe and comfort. I bit my lip as he stopped talking in a manner that seemed to suggest that he was politely waiting for me answer.

I had nothing to give him, I couldn't understand the question.

He asked again in that same, weird, alien language of his, "Are you hurt?"

Still, he did not receive an answer from me.

After a long pause, the dog-masked man seemed to realize that he wasn't going to get one. Slowly, he offered his hand with gentle, soft-spoken syllables, "Come here."

It looked like he wanted to have a handshake with me. I stared at the appendage, nonplussed at the seemingly random gesture. He repated himself, saying, "Come here, don't be shy."

Habit soon kicked in and I placed my hand in his, expecting to attempt to exchange names with Mr. "Guòlái Ya" in the call of common decency. In fact, I couldn't be sure if that was even his name and not something else.

Instead of shaking my hand, he gently pulled me into a standing position, picked me up in one of his arms, held me close to his body, and wrapped me so I was snug and warm underneath his cloak. Clutching me protectively close to his chest, he started to run. I had limited vision from my spot under the cloak, but I felt the man first start to sprint and then he jumped.

When I say 'jump,' I don't mean that he did a tiny, little bounce, I mean, like, a full-on leap. He bounded, flying up into the air! I counted almost two full seconds before he landed again. These bounds were at fast speeds and, I assume, over long distances.

And, oh, did I mention the tiny, little tidbit of information that we were leaping from tree to tree hundreds of feet up in the air? No? Well, it must've slipped my mind as I gripped to Dog-man's dark, silver-grey armored vest for dear life, because I most certainly did not fancy becoming strawberry jam.

Dog-man started to talk, I could feel the vibrations from his voice through his chest, but I got the feeling that he wasn't speaking to me. "Wolverine, was there anyone else in the vicinity?"

If I listened closely, I could hear another voice answer in response, "No, there was not. What did...who did you find?"

"A child, young and by itself, either can't talk or doesn't want to... I also suspect that it might be Aoko's."

"…What should we do?"

"I will drop by the hospital before joining you at the Hokage-Zhǔxí's office for further instructions on how this should be dealt with."

I'm sure their conversation was terribly interesting, but really? We were leaping, in trees, hundreds of feet off the ground! I don't think that this was the best place to have scintillating conversations in foreign languages! What did they think they were? Old, twenty-first century, comic-book heroes?

The masks and the armor and the cloaks and the freakish ability to seemingly bound over tall-building-esque trees... It all seemed a bit much and I didn't really know how to handle it, let alone why this people were even able to do what they were doing. The laws of physics I had been taught in school and the reality I known for my whole life up until this point seemed moot. Without any explanations available to me, I had to reluctantly that the how's and why's just weren't important anymore. That I needed to only know about the who's, what's, and when's at the moment. For example:

Who are these people?
What was going to happen?
What was I going to do?
And when could I escape?

Those were some good questions that needed some satisfactory answers. Only one major problem stood in my path: I could not understand a word anyone was saying and, chances were, if I did try to talk, they wouldn't be able to understand me either. I only had tone of voice, body language, and my gut feelings to help me guess what was happening around me. If I had to guess, I would say that Dog-man and his friend, Mr. Badger, were distressed.

Well, more like they were confused, anxious, wary, tense, and any other similar synonyms that would probably fit that I couldn't think of at the moment. They were also in a hurry, if you couldn't already tell. They didn't say much after their brief exchange of words in the beginning of my trip with the two of them.

As time went on, however, I grew suspicious, wondering if they were actually supervillains instead of superheroes, which would be just my luck. They didn't feel evil, though. They seemed like nice guys, unless they had alter-egos or something. I don't think I will ever be able to see them as the bad guys, since they rescued a random child, read: me. That might just be my naïveté talking, though.

By the time I had made a decision — I had eventually decided that they were, in fact, superheroes — we passed by some military-looking people guarding a hidden gate that led to what looked like a huge city. They didn't protest or panic when Dog-man and Mr. Badger landed next to them briefly before quickly leaping past, they just nodded in acknowledgement. Dog-man and Mr. Badger stopped on a roof near by the gate and had a hurried conversation:

"What would you like me to say to Hokage-Zhǔxí, Dog?"

"Exactly what happened, of course, and that I will be returning briefly after dropping off the subject of the new issue."

Then they split up — me with Dog-man, and Mr. Badger was by himself. Where Mr. Badger was off to in such a hurry, I have no idea. Dog-man seemed to be in an equal amount of hurry as his masked friend. What really surprised me was that none of the villagers seemed to notice or care that a guy in a mask and suspicious-looking cloak was leaping from rooftop to rooftop. I was even more surprised when I saw that Dog-man and Mr. Badger weren't the only superheroes. There were other people doing parkour-esque leaps on rooftops. The only difference was that most of these people weren't wearing masks. Were they superheroes too or did everyone have superpowers?

My brain started to hurt from all my hard thinking. And you know what? The answer or explanation to all of this didn't come any more readily than it would have if I didn't try to think at all.

My and Dog-man's destination was a large, white building and — unlike most of the normal people there — we made our entrance through the window instead of strolling through the front door. No one said anything either, which was the most surprising thing of all. Well, that might've just been because they were too scared to say anything.

The people who did see us gave fugitive glances, as if they weren't expecting to see Dog-man's presence here and it reminded them that they had to be on their best behavior. It was like the principal had stepped into a classroom and the students were worried that they might be in trouble. It was evident that Dog-man carried a lot of respect. Maybe that was the difference between masked and non-masked people? Maybe the masked people were the leaders or peacekeepers of some sort; either way, they were most likely higher up in rank.

Dog-man pulled aside a woman who strongly reminded me of an old-fashioned nurse with her outfit. She didn't wear scrubs, but her outfit screamed, 'I am a nurse! I know what I am doing!'

Dog-man started to speak to her in serious undertones, "Are you busy at this moment? No? Then I have a patient for you: a basic checkup for any injuries, a blood test for relation to Ninja 00-97-20, and the sleeper test."

I watched as her expression morphed from deer-in-the-headlights to determined-to-please. At this point, Dog-man moved away the cloak with the arm that wasn't holding me securely to his person, making me more visible to the nurse. She looked at me with wide eyes before looking back at Dog-man when he started speaking to her again after his brief pause, "Send the results of the two tests to the Hokage's office immediately. I will be here to pick this one up later, but until then the child should not be left unattended. Do you understand the job I am asking of you?" He appeared to ask the nurse a question to which she answered quite earnestly, nodding several times.

Satisfied with her answer, Dog-man adjusted me in his grip before motioning to the woman with his free hand for her to lead the way. With an air of importance, the nurse led the way down the long, winding halls to a room, which she opened and gestured for us to enter. It looked like your basic hospital room: an examination table, two chairs, and a desk with a wheelie-chair combo.

The moment Dog-man entered, he made a beeline to the examination table and plopped me on top of it. He gave me a pat on the head, ruffling my hair briefly before turning away from me. It was then that I understood that he was leaving, leaving without me. I might not have known him for long, but I had grown attached to Dog-man, I didn't want him to leave, I didn't want to be left alone, all by myself.

Not again.

Without thinking, I frantically grabbed onto his sleeve, and it wasn't until he turned around to face me that I realized how stupid and clingy I was acting. I couldn't help it, though, and even though I couldn't look at Dog-man anymore, I still held on to him, feeling — and probably looking — pathetic.

Dog-man didn't jerk away from my fragile grip on his cloak, but instead turned back around and gently petted my hair, saying something to me in comforting undertones. "Hey there, it's fine. You will be seeing me again, and soon. Come on, I promise." He then waited for me to look at him before ruffling my hair one final time and gently prying my fingers away from his cloak. He gave me a small nod and, just before he left, he gave a final remark to the nurse who gave a nod in response, "I will return for both the child and the results."

And then there were two.

The nurse stared at the door for a long moment before shaking her head as if dismissing her thoughts and turned around to face me. She gave me an unsure smile, as if she didn't know what to make of my random entry with no name and being dropped off by an, apparently, well-known masked man. I didn't return the smile. Instead, I looked out the window that provided a view of the city.

There were more superhero-esque people leaping from rooftop to rooftop, reminding me of parkour athletes. This seemed to be more of a mode of travel than a way to have fun. The city was strange, though, no cars and it wasn't built the same way you would think of a city. There weren't any skyscrapers. For sure the buildings were tall, but not that tall. This city would be an old-fashioned city, like one from the 19th century or something, minus the horse-drawn carriages and plus some 21st century, modern-day technology. If I looked off into the distance, I could see a mountain...

Wait, there were faces on the mountain...

Was that Mount Rushmore? I couldn't be sure, but something told me that the faces looking over the city were wrong, the same feeling that warned me that something was wrong with my body. I had visited the famous mountain in the state of either North or South Dakota —one of the two, I couldn't remember which — only once. I don't remember America's presidents looking quite like that. Although, I could be wrong, I haven't been known to have the best memory in the world, as proved by me not knowing for sure which state the mountain was in — I think it might've been the South one.

My thoughts were interrupted by my shirt being pulled over my head. The nurse set my only article of clothing aside before giving me a physical. She checked my weight— which she clucked at disapprovingly — and my height, which she frowned at. She wrote the information down on her clipboard with a concerned sigh and continued with the rest of her checkup.

The nurse looked at my eyes, nose, ears, and throat. She checked my blood pressure — low, according to the numbers she wrote down. This didn't surprise me, my mom's was low too. The nurse also checked my reflexes, gave me some vaccinations, and listened to my lungs and heart. Even took a sample of my blood. At the end of it all, she continued to look at me with a concerned and disapproving look, poking my ribs — which were subtly peeking out under my skin — and gently touching the deep sleep circles under my eyes. The gaunt and tired physical appearance had come from The Last Days that led up to The End.

Those times were dark things best left unmentioned.

The nurse moved to put the sleep-shirt on me again before looking at it in disgust. I didn't blame her. My favorite shirt had been ruined from the flood water, the water that — Stop, don't dwell on it.

Casting one look between me and the shirt, the nurse decisively tossed the shirt in the rubbish bin by the window and opened a cabinet, revealing the hospital issued robes that tended to expose your butt if you weren't careful. She quickly put it on me before heading over to the door, sticking her head out of the room.

The nurse called to someone outside and spoke to them in low tones before closing the door, approaching me once more. Carefully, making sure to make no sudden movements, the woman picked me up and off the examination table. We left the room and went down more halls, leaving me more hopelessly lost than before. If I had to hazard a guess, though, we were in the part of the hospital where patients were housed if they were injured, sick, or unwell enough to need to stay in the hospital.

We went in a room that was obviously geared towards younger patients. The wallpaper had animals on it with a landscape of forest and sky. Some toys were strewn around the room as a small handful of children looked up at us entering briefly, before returning back to their games.

The nurse took me into the bathroom and started to fill the tub with warm water. She, obviously, intended to bathe me, but I was reluctant to cooperate. If I was truly the age I appeared, I wouldn't have minded one smidgen — I would have thoroughly enjoyed it, actually. Yet, I wasn't. I was a young adult in the body of a toddler, I wouldn't be able to enjoy it for obvious reasons: embarrassment and discomfort.

Of course, any resistance I put up — minimal — was no match for her greater strength and larger size. I was placed in the soapy water, suds covered the surface so I couldn't see the liquid below. I wasn't too bothered, though, it was only a bathtub that was barely a fourth of the way full. There was nothing for me to fear. Or, at least, that was what I told myself.

I refused to let her do everything, though, since I was, in fact, able to do most of the things she wanted to help me with by myself. In the end, the nurse ended up only scrubbing my hair and back, since I took care of the rest. She tried to let me have some time to play in the water, but I wasn't having it, not wanting to stay in there any long than I had to.

Perplexed, the nurse dried me off with a towel, while I looked off to the side, refusing to meet her eyes, and moved my body according to where she wanted to dry next to offer the greatest convenience. There was a knock at the door and another nurse entered; this one blonde and bubbly. She was holding a bundle of clothes. A bundle that was no doubt meant for me. I held out my arms to accept the clothing, but instead, the blonde nurse squealed, dropped the clothes, and snatched me up into a tight hug.

"Mmph!" Was my muffled cry of surprise as the woman's breasts effectively muffled the sound. I briefly struggled, not liking the unfamiliar contact, before going limp, realizing that there wasn't any use to it. I briefly considered biting or hitting or something, since it always seemed to work for other children this age, but dismissed it. I wasn't that desperate. Yet.

It was the other nurse who came to my rescue, "Pahoua, put her down, you're scaring her, poor little lamb's shy as anything! Also, you dropped clean clothes on the floor, they could've gotten wet!"

"Ah, sorry, Matron! She's just so cute and little. Her hair is so soft too and smells nice. I just love the scent babies give off!" The blonde reluctantly set me down while chattering away in the nonsensical language that everyone seemed to speak here.

Hurriedly, I edged away from the touchy-feely stranger, wary of more unwanted physical contact. The younger nurse pouted but kept her distance. The older nurse shook her head good naturedly before picking up the clothes that were dropped on the floor. "Alright, come here, child," the first nurse said gently but firmly, holding a pair of shorts ready for me to step into.

There were those words again, "guòlái ya." That wasn't a name at all! It was a request, but a request for what?

"Come here," the nurse repeated, shaking the shorts slightly to garner my attention. Obediently, I stepped over, allowing her to help dress me as I pondered the mean of the mysterious words, "guòlái ya." I reviewed the times I've heard them said, trying to work out the meaning. I remember Dog-man saying them to me as he held his hand out to beckon me closer. Also the older nurse said it twice not too long ago to get me to come closer to her.

So, did that mean it was a way to call people over to you? Most likely, but I would have to test it out. My "fellow peers" would be the perfect test subjects. Adults would wonder what I wanted and I might gain unwanted attention that I couldn't get rid of with a simple distraction. The toddlers, however, would accept a toy and think that the small object was the whole reason I called them over in the first place, if that was what the words really meant.

I toddled away from the two nurses who both watched me briefly, before the older nurse started to talk to the younger nurse in earnest, handing her a sheet of paper and pointing at it urgently, before giving it to her and ushering the blonde out the door. Finding them both suitably distracted, I picked up the first toy I could find without a child already playing with it and looked for my first test subject. I looked around but found that most of the kids were in groups which wouldn't suit my purposes at all.

There were a few on the edges that seemed by themselves and weren't playing with each other. I frowned, not liking that they weren't doing anything. Maybe they were shy and were waiting for one of the other kids to call them over? They would have to wait a long time, the others weren't going to notice them anytime soon. Then I smiled. I had notice them, though, and that was all that mattered. If none of the other children would call them over, I would.

Or, at least, I'd try to. We would have to see if it even worked first.

Clearing my throat, I called over to them, "C'mere!" They weren't the only ones surprised, I was too. I wasn't used to the voice that had come out of my mouth. It was higher, more childish. I licked my lips and tried again, only a little more quietly this time around, since I already had their attention, "C-C'mere." The three looked at each before hesitantly moving over to me. Looking down at my feet, I noticed some more toys laying on the floor and picked them up too.

By the time I looked back up, they were in front of me, standing uncertainly. Giving them a smile that was meant to be reassuring but probably wasn't accomplishing it purpose, I gave them each a toy, expecting all three to immediately start play or something. However, they looked at the toys questioningly before looking back at me. I looked back at them, just as stumped. Didn't they know how to play? Flustered, I made motions with my hands, making the doll in my right hand start to dance with the dog in my other hand.

The doll then hop-skipped over to the cat in the girl-closest-to-me's hands and start to make vague talking noises to it. Hesitantly, she spoke to the others, "Is he trying to play with us?"

"I think so," the only boy of the three answered.

The last member of the group, another girl, remarked, "He must've thought we were lonely or something, and now he doesn't know what to do!"

"Think he was the one who was lonely," the boy dismissed.

"Then let's make him not so lonely, he's a cute baby!"

"Yeah! Look at that white hair, it looks like a soft cloud," the girl-closest-to-me cooed.

"It looks like the fur on Shiro's tail or just Shiro's fur," the boy said peering at me closer, squinting.

"I wonder if it's as soft as it looks?" The girl-closest-to-me moved closer and, with the hand that wasn't holding the stuffed cat, petted me on the head. Her touch was slightly rough in a way that said she was trying to be careful and didn't realize that she wasn't be very gentle. "It is!"

"Ooh! Let me try!" The other girl took a step towards me, hands outstretched. I knew what was coming next and didn't want any part of it. Taking my experiment as a success, I didn't hesitate to flee from the two girls who were most likely plotting different outfits to dress me up in, if the gleam in their eyes was any indicator.

"You two scared him off, nice going," the boy laughed.

"No, we didn't, he's just shy!"

"Y-Yeah!"

"Whatever you say," the boy kept laughing while the two girl glared at him in varying levels of embarrassment. What was it with people and touching me for no reason whatsoever? It was probably because I was a little kid. I could understand that. I liked children, but that's easy for me to say, because I've never had any of my own.

I stood on my tiptoes and looked out the window again, people-watching. Well, more like superhero-watching, but superheroes were people too, so it was a moot point anyway. My thoughts wandered to Dog-man and Mr. Badger's whereabouts and what they were doing right now. I missed them, more Dog-man than Mr. Badger but I missed him too. Did they forget me already? Probably not, but I bet they had other things on their minds right now. That made me sad.

In the end, I'm forgettable. I have no one here who knows me and cares beyond the care they would normally give to some random child found by themselves in a poor state. If I suddenly disappeared the way I came right now, I'd be forgotten within a week, with maybe the occasional, vague thought for a few months. My sister would be forgotten too; as it is, I'm the only one who remembers her or even knows about her.

And think about how many people are worse off than she is. All those people who no longer have anyone to remember them other than God who made them and knows the name of every star there ever was? All the people, memories, stories, all lost to the sands of time, dead and never to be found again? Now that's a truly depressing thought.

I pressed my head against the window, my eyes looking through it and at the people hopping by on the roofs. Suddenly, I could see the older nurse's reflection on the window I was looking through. I turned around to look at her and she beckoned me over, the room was empty and we were the only ones left. Flushing with embarrassment, I padded over to her and followed her out of the room.

I haven't eaten in five days. I didn't realize how much the smell of food would affect me. You would think that I would be ravenous and would be eating any and all food within reach, but the exact opposite was true. It made me feel slightly queasy, ill, I felt that I would be sick if I tried to eat what everyone else was eating.

I hadn't truly felt hungry since The End, my Last Day. I remember that the first day was the worst, the second day wasn't much better, and on the third the hunger had started to go away. After that, the hunger pangs just kind of died — ha ha — on the fourth day, since I had nothing to feed myself with. And today, day five, I also didn't have much chance to find food nor did I have the words to ask for any.

The older nurse knew I've hadn't eaten anything in a long while; it's her profession after all. She didn't even attempt to feed me the food the rest of the kids were being fed, she had me start out small. Even then, I didn't want to eat it or, in this case, drink it. She had given me milk to drink and kept insisting that I drink it. She didn't let up until every bit of it was gone, and she didn't dare take her eyes off of me, as if I might try to pour it into a potted plant or something. It was whole milk. I've never been able to really tolerate whole milk, since it was always a bit too rich for me. I had been raised on skim milk and usually drank only that, so I just about threw this up, but I managed to keep it down.

The older nurse seemed to know this, as she just patted me on the back and didn't make any motions to refill my cup, like I dreaded that she might do. It was only a glass of milk, a small one at that, but I felt full, as if I had consumed a huge meal. I felt as if I wouldn't be able to eat any more food for the rest of the day or even need to. Of course, the nurse didn't think the same, as she had me drink another, although not as full, cup a while later. It was easier to drink a second time.

I didn't feel as sick as the first time and I realized that there was sugar added to the milk. I have no way of knowing whether or not she added it only after I almost got sick the first round or the first also had sugar added. If I had to guess though, I would guess it was the latter, as she probably added not just sugar, but other things to help me get back to a full bill of health.

The nurse kept giving me cups of sweetened milk at regular intervals, each cup being only about six ounces, maybe a little less. I was probably on my seventh cup, hours later, when he came back. I didn't notice him at first as my back was to him and I was in the middle of downing my cup of milk. The nurse had stood up and walked away while I was still drinking, but I hadn't thought anything of it. Honestly, I just assumed she was trusting me to finish the rest of it while she took care of something briefly.

I saw him after I hopped down from the table I was seated at. I seriously hadn't expected to ever see him again, I thought that I would just become a distant memory to him. One that he wouldn't be bothered to really remember, except as an occasional thought if he randomly saw me walking below him on the street as he hopped around from roof to roof. Thrilled, I ran over and hugged his leg, glad to see him once again. Busy listening to the nurse talking to him, Dog-man absentmindedly patted me on the head.

"— underweight, low-blood pressure, and problems with her breathing, which is shallow and fast. However, this is probably due to her severe case of starvation. I've written down instructions for how that should be dealt with as well as any other...concerns of mine." The nurse handed over some paper to Dog-man who quickly scanned through the stapled packet.

"...'possible case of abuse and neglect?'" Dog-man asked stiffly, shifting his weight and ever-so-slightly tensing, as if for a fight.

"She has been starved, is dehydrated, and there more than a few scars on her body. All of them are old, but I find it hard to believe a two-year could've cause them all by herself," the nurse answered solemnly. "It might not be the case, but I want to cover all bases, so the child's caretaker is aware of any future issues that may crop up."

"I...see," Dog-man stated, still tense, but no longer seeming as if he was silently plotting the nurse's assassination. "We will be leaving now, unless there are any last minute... concerns?"

"...No," the nurse said finally after a short pause and Dog-man nodded before turning and starting to walk away. Surprised, I let go of his leg and hesitantly started to walk too with his guiding hand on my back. "H-However... this, this might not be any of my business but, but, Dog-san?"

Dog-man stopped and turned his head to show that he was listening. I stopped too and looked at the nurse who looked so very old at that one moment right then, even though she couldn't any older than her mid-thirties. Surprised and a little disheartened, I reached up and took a hold of Dog-man's hand — which had been hovering where my back used to be — with mine, squeezing. After a pause, he gently applied pressure back, stroking the back of my hand once with his thumb.

The nurse continued, realizing she wasn't going to get any more of a prompt than that, "Did Hokage-Zhǔxí find her a caretaker or, or is she going to an orphanage?"

Dog-man stiffened, his grip tightening minutely before relaxing, "True, it is not your business. However, a relative has been located, was approved by the Hokage, and has filled out all the necessary paperwork. The child is no longer your concern."

The nurse looked confused and more than a little ruffled by what must've been a curt dismissal, when her face abruptly cleared, realization dawning upon it. Her smile came like a sun breaking through the clouds, all the years on her forehead smoothing away. A new respect had filled her eyes as she gazed at Dog-man. "I see, thank you for telling me, Dog-san. I feel much better now that I know that that she will be in capable hands."

Dog-man didn't answer, but instead, he gave my hand a light tug and together we left the hospital, once again, through the window. If it was anyone else, I would've screamed, but he's a superhero, my superhero. And anyway, if I did that, he probably would've dropped me on accident.

Vocabulary:

Guòlái ya(, bùyào hàixiū) – As you probably already guessed, it means "come here". The words in parenthesis are the rest of the phrase that weren't recalled, the full phrase that's mostly used to summon small children is "come here, don't be shy" or something to that extent.

Zhǔxí - Direct translation is 'chairman", but is nowadays more often meant to be "president". It's essentially a title for Leaders of certain organizations such as political parties. In this case, the Hokage, which is a distinctly Japanese title. The Land of Fire adopted Zhǔxí basically as an honorific for the title of Hokage, it's mostly used by shinobi, when directly addressing the Hokage, or when being formal when mentioning him. Most in the nation just use "Hokage".

A/N: So here we are, I finally got around to making one of my own after years of reading others' works. I've been bouncing this story around with my co-author, Sylwia Kiley, for a few years. I'm on my own now, but I will do my best to continue what we had created together.

Expect slow updates, my life has been extremely out of sorts lately.

Also, no romance for a long time. The end-goal of this story isn't to have the main character end up in a relationship with some other main character. Honestly. But there may be a sub-plot with some. Eventually.

My goal is to have this one be different from other Self Inserts. There will be some intersecting with cannon, but the main character's path will be off the forged one of the series. Also, this main character hasn't read the Naruto series. When I first started this with Sylwia, I didn't know near as much as I do now. Plus, why does the main character always have to be a huge fan of the fandom that they land in? There's around seven billion people, chances of one of them being put in this situation and not knowing about the fandom or vaguely hearing about it maybe once or twice in their lives is pretty high. Just saying.

Also, there's a huge reason for the main language being Chinese instead of Japanese. It'll be revealed later on, but I'm pretty sure with all the foreshadowing (my one huge vice, whoops;;) a lot of you will get an "Aha!" moment pretty soon.

I probably have a few ideas or details in this story that are based off of 'Dreaming of Sunshine' or 'Deja Vu No Jitsu', but nothing big, nothing dealing with the plot, just the small details about everyday ninja life.