The day I died was a day I was expecting for some time.

I'd had time to say my goodbyes, I'd written a brief will and testament to where I wanted my things and meager savings divided and distributed, and I'd had my large, annoying, and loving family at my side when it happened.

For many months I had wrestled with an aggressive cancer in a war-torn and impoverished country that couldn't provide the type of treatment I needed to fight it. My family that was too poor to send their eldest daughter to one of the richer, western countries that had thoroughly trained doctors and newer medicines and equipments.

I was one of nine children born to my parents, a couple who owned a bakery in an overcrowded city where rich and diverse lands bordered that of Egypt. Those ancient lands I called home were contested, and they sat nestled between two angry countries and an even angrier ocean.

My family had been loud, obnoxious, loving, and joyful though poor. Did I mention loud?

I was loathed to leave them at only twenty-three years of age. My life had hardly even begun by the time it was snatched from me, and I had struggled for months with the terrifying question of what lay in store for me when it became clear that my time was running out.

I was raised as a Muslimah in my first life.

I had lived as well as I could; peaceful, hard-working, and obedient to my parents – studying as much as I could for the chance at one of those coveted scholarships that were awarded to the hardworking students of our province, and working in the bakery with my parents and siblings when I wasn't studying.

I had held out hope that my good actions and intentions in this life would be enough to grant me access to the rewards that had been promised in the afterlife. I had believed in what I was supposed to believe and done what I was supposed to do.

So, as you can imagine, it came as a complete surprise when I found myself taken from one life and forced into another when I was supposed to have been sent to either heaven or hell, Jannah or Jahanem, Fire or Paradise. Whatever you wanted to call it, the meaning was all the same.

That's what was supposed to have happened to my soul after death. That's what I had been taught, what I had believed to be true.

Yeah, that's what was supposed to have happened.

It came as an even bigger shock when I recognized the world I had been placed into after my death was one that was supposed to be fictional, which certainly wasn't the heaven or hell I had expected. A story, a manga, a television series that I had watched with two of my younger brothers on occasion. That's all it was supposed to be. A story. Fiction, and nothing more.

I was stubborn at first, refusing to use the word 'reincarnation', a word I had never believed in. I refused to trust that any of my surroundings actually existed, and I refused to accept the horrifying transition between realities that my soul had been forced through.

The first few months of my life in the Village Hidden in the Leaves were ones of complete and utter denial.

I spent a good few weeks crying myself to sleep at night and mumbling things in my native tongue of Arabic when my senses had developed enough to allow me speech. I had missed my family. I was frustrated that I couldn't understand this new language. I was confused and scared, as anyone might be if they had found themself in a similar situation.

Why was I here? How had I come to be here? What would happen now that I was here? These were all questions I had no answer for. Not yet, anyways.

I was lucky that I had been a child when I'd made the mistake of speaking anything other than Japanese. It was passed off as nothing more than innocent baby babble. I realized then, as I cried and blubbered in slurred Arabic at my confused grandfather, that it was a mistake I could never afford to make again.

That was the last time I ever spoke my mother tongue aloud.

It was new, terrifying, and different. In my first life I had often imagined how interesting life might be in a different place, time, or universe, but none of those fanciful daydreams had ever touched on the terror that I had found in my new life. It was a type of fear that was completely soul consuming, one that left you in awe and in reprehension that you might have lost your sanity somewhere along the way.

For the first few years, I lived in a horrified daze, swallowing compliantly while I was force fed this strange new mixture of language, food, culture, and civilization that was so different from my own. The first year passed in agony, and I spent my days playing masquerade while dreaming of and longing for a different time and place throughout the nights.

My hours during the day were spent learning and absorbing new information, settling into this new skin and new identity that I'd been given while all the while questioning how any of this could possibly be true. Nights were spent in wonder, pondering how it was I came to be here, and sometimes in grief, wishing that I had just stayed dead. There were times it seemed that the emotional agony of being ripped from my family and thrust into this strange new world was unbearable, too much for one soul to carry on its own.

But I learned to carry it. Over time, my disbelief morphed into melancholy, and then melancholy into a firm resolve to survive.

And when I finally decided to quit moping and start living this second chance at life I had somehow found, I began to watch and learn. I began to observe and collect as much information as I could, while committing what I remembered of the original plot to memory so that I would not forget. Eventually, I was able to figure out when I had been born in regards to the timeline I remembered.

I was young when Minato became the Hokage, my grandfather and I had even attended his ceremony, and then the public funeral that inevitably followed some years later after one of the most terrifying nights I had ever lived through.

The village I was born in was on the brink of war with another neighboring land that was also supposed to be fictional. Tensions were running high and suspicions even higher. People whispered in the streets of spies caught and tortured to death. Children were trained as child-soldiers and indoctrinated with a village-first ideology that was quite persuasive – persuasive enough to die for – persuasive enough to kill for.

And in real life, the shinobi of this village were intimidating and the politics of this new world were dangerous. It was not the cute and funny cartoon I remembered. It was real, and it was now my reality.

When I truly realized the gravity of my situation, I'd made my decision in an instant: I would do everything I possibly could to live a peaceful life, and going unnoticed was a must.

There would be no, 'girl-gets-reborn-and-becomes-a-kick-ass-kunoichi' in this timeline.

Nope. Not if I had anything to say about it. Not when there were Yamanaka walking around, and certainly not with Nara level intelligence or the startling gut-instincts that most ninja possessed. The worry was always there, in the back of my mind; that they might see that I was somehow different, a piece of the puzzle that just didn't fit right. And in this new world, different was dangerous.

I had always been a worrier, and I had always struggled with anxiety. My features and surroundings might have changed, but that bit stuck around, unfortunately.

I was twenty-three, much too smart and perceptive for a child living in a village occupied by a majority ninja population. The thought itself was unrealistic. And even if I wasn't discovered, I had no desire to bring violence or destruction to people on the opposite end of a conflict I had no attachment to. I would not kill for the 'Will of Fire'.

And besides, I had seen a lifetime of war.

Living on the border of two countries that held hostile aggressions to each other had given me a very realistic view of how war went about, of the evils that men could commit on both sides. We had lost two of my siblings to a fight that my family had been caught between, two countries full of people fighting for land that both believed to be rightfully theirs. They were boys and they were young, and they died in a school, a place where they were supposed to have been safe, victims of a fight they had no part in.

I was no stranger to the sound of shelling, explosions in the distance as we attempted to sleep at night, the sound the bombs and missiles of the groups who only continued to fight each other without giving a care for the civilians who paid the price of their aggressions.

I had seen violence. I'd had my fill of it. I'd lived twenty-three years of praying for peace that never came. So, my decision had been made. It was easy to make, even if it was made out of cowardice. I chose peace.

There would be no Ninja Academy, no chakra training, and absolutely no hints or slips that might indicate that I was anything other than a shy civilian girl who sold vegetables in the market with her grandfather. I remained avowed to keep my head down and my lips sealed, playing the new role I had been assigned perfectly, shedding my old identity so that I could live safely and peacefully in this second chance at life I had been awarded.

Perhaps this could be a heaven of my own making, here in this strange village of ninja that wasn't supposed to exist.

By the time I had turned two, for the second time in my life, strangely aware of all my surroundings despite the fact that a two-year old brain should not have been able to process like a twenty-three-year-old woman, I had accepted my new reality with large reluctance and made my plans to live as normally as possible.

The first few years of my live passed by in a haze of blurred memories, some from this life, and some from the last.

I was Lamees Halabi before. I was Lamees, a girl who had dreams to become a doctor one day. A hard-working girl who lived by the ocean and liked to watch those odd Japanese cartoons with her younger siblings on their ancient television set whenever she actually had any free time.

But that was just it: I had been. I no longer was. Lamees was dead, her body buried somewhere in the desert by the sea. Her family had mourned her, but the world had kept turning.

Now I was Mari. Sasaki Mari, or as my new grandfather liked to call me, 'Kimari', a nickname mixed of both last and first in that order. It had caught on as a child, and now it was all anyone called me.

My grandfather, Sasaki Touma, had been the one to raise me in the place of parents who had been killed in action on a mission. Ninjas, apparently. The thought was still somewhat surreal to me.

My grandfather asked me on my fifth birthday if I had any desire to join the academy and follow in the footsteps of my parents. My father had been the first shinobi in our family, and my mother an orphan, from what my grandfather revealed to me. He had asked me that question with a slight tremor in his voice, no doubt with a heart filled with sorrow at the memory of having to bury his son and daughter-in-law so young.

I nearly cried as well when it became clear how dearly he missed the two of them. Lamees had always cried easily, she'd always had a soft heart. That part of myself had carried over from my previous life as well.

'No, Ojii-san' I had told him in earnest that day, flashing my biggest and most convincing smile at the kindhearted old man who had raised me by himself. 'I want to sell vegetables with you!'.

The look of relief and joy on his face at my answer was one that would remain etched in my memory for years to come.

He was a kind old civilian man who used to run a produce stand in the village marketplace. As a child I would travel to work with him daily to his produce stand, and once a week outside the village, where he bought the fresh vegetables from rural farmers and shared his profits with them. In return, the farmers sold him produce for a discounted price.

I inherited that produce stand from him mere months ago, upon his death at a ripe old eighty-nine year of age.

Which brought me to where I was today – apartment hunting as a twenty-year-old civilian of a shinobi village. The landlord I was currently speaking with was about to deliver the same news that I had heard from all the others: filled up or out of my price range.

The produce stand, to no surprise, did not bring in much funding, but it would have to do.

I just couldn't stand to stay in the same little apartment that I had shared with my fostered grandfather. He may not have been what I might have considered blood, but I had loved him like my original family, and he had been quite near and dear to my heart. Memories of him were everywhere, and I had begun having trouble paying for rent after the expenses of his funeral.

So, I had decided I needed a fresh start in a new apartment, one that I could make my own as I continued on in my life without his comforting presence and guidance.

A new start, as it turned out, was expensive.

"I'm sorry, Sasaki-san, but our last available rental was taken a week ago." The landlord explained with an empathetic and polite smile, scratching at the back of his head.

Another dead end.

The majority of the apartments I had spent the day looking for were either out of my price range or already leased. Real-estate was a hot commodity, as I had recently come to find.

"Alright." I replied despite my disappointment, returning his polite smile and a small bow that etiquette demanded of me. "Thank you for your time."

After some quick and polite pleasantries, I was once again off on the hunt, stepping out of the landlord's office and into the warm Konoha sun.

I heaved a quick sigh, my lips tugging in a brief frown. I hadn't thought finding an apartment might pose such a difficulty. My feet were beginning to drag as I once again squared my shoulders and continued to the last and final apartment complex on my hand-written list of broken and barely legible kanji.

The streets were bustling as per usual, happy civilians and ninja alike were out and about in the pleasant weather, chatting amongst each other in bright tones about this or that. Vendors at the market called out to passerby's in an attempt to increase revenue, and a cool breeze filtered gently through the air.

Another beautiful day in the Village Hidden in the Leaves.

"Oi! Kimari!" A well-known voiced stopped me in my tracks as I paused in my internal reverie and tossed my head over my shoulder at the sound of my nickname being called over the bustling crowd.

The voice was unmistakably that of Ueda Machiko.

Or Machi-chan, as I called her. The twenty-five-year-old woman was a good friend of mine, one of the few that I had. Machi sold imported silks in her family's stand, which was usually set up across from mine. Her father was often off on business, trips to trade and barter goods to bring back to their market stand.

It was often, then, that Machi spent many nights in my apartment out of the inability to get along with her father's second wife. The two women absolutely hated each other, and the moment her father left the village on a merchant caravan, Machi would inevitably show up at my door with toiletries and clothing to last a few days.

Her friendship was one that she had forced on me when we were teens, but it was a relationship I was glad to have. Machi was loyal and had a good heart, if a bit rambunctious. Our personalities were the exact opposite, but our friendship remained unaffected.

"I've been calling you for minutes! Didn't you hear me?" She was huffing as she finally caught up to me, looping her arm through mine as we continued in the same direction I had been walking. "What are you doing? You didn't set up your stand today, I got worried you might have gotten sick."

A soft smile quirked on my face at the caring words.

"Well?" She demanded, her light brown ponytail bobbing behind her as she turned her head towards mine while we walked.

"Ah, sorry, I didn't hear you." My tone was mild, pleasant as we walked. "I'm apartment hunting today, too many memories of 'Jii-san at home. Would you like to help? You spend a lot of time at my place anyways."

Her eyes softened at my admission to her. Sasaki Touma had been well known among the civilians, and well-loved on top of it. He was missed by many, Machi and the other vendors included.

"I think that'll be good for you." Her voice was quiet a moment before she continued speaking in a peppier tone. "I'm running errands right now for that ugly boar my father married, but I can help you move when the time comes."

"Mm. I'd appreciate it." I hummed the satisfaction at her offer. Moving was always a pain no matter what universe you lived in.

"I'll bet Keiji will help too, he's had a thing for you for years. I'd bet he'd move it all for free if you batt your eyelashes at him." She wiggled her eyebrows for emphasis.

Her words had the response it seemed she had been hoping for, as she laughed when I flushed from head to toe at the mention of the young man who worked as a butcher at the market. It was often we caught him staring our way, and it was even more common that he would gift my grandfather and I with a few decent cuts of meat for a fraction of the price, blushing as he handed them off to me with only a word or two shared before darting back to his stall.

"Machi-chan!" I reprimanded with a frown and flushed cheeks.

"Sorry, sorry, you're just too easy to tease!" She apologized through her girly giggles. "Which complex are you heading to now?"

I sent her a frown for good measure as I dug out the paper of apartment complexes I'd listed for myself the night before, eyes settling on the last building I had yet to try.

"It's on 14th street, four blocks from the onsen we like."

"That one? But aren't most of the tenants there shinobi?"

My frown stretched deeper.

She was correct. It was one of the few integrated apartment buildings within Konoha, one that was open to rent to both civilian and shinobi alike. Rumor had it that the land lady had a hard time keeping tenants due to a few rowdy ninja who lived there. It was for that reason exactly why many apartment complexes were known to rent only to one group or the other.

But the rates were some of the cheapest in the whole village, and I doubted it could be as horrible as some of the rumors stated. It was at least worth checking out before nixing it from my list.

"Uh-huh. The rates are good, though." I finally sighed.

"Just be careful." I glanced at Machi at her choice of words, and she only shrugged her shoulders. "I'm grateful and all for what they do, but there are a few of them that are rather…eccentric."

Eccentric indeed. The ninja of this village could be quite odd at times, from green jumpsuits to sulky teens who would eventually murder their entire clan. I doubted the word 'eccentric' covered all that was in-between those two extremes.

I had seen many of them, canon characters and others who were just as strange.

It happened every now and then, instances where I would inevitably catch a glimpse of one of those eccentric ninja that I had seen in the series through the eyes of Lamees, walking about as normal human beings instead of fictional characters.

Maito Gai bought his vegetables from my stand because my grandfather and I gave discounts to the ninja of our village as a thank-you for their service.

I had seen many of them, but it had eventually become a normal occurrence.

I kept my distance – head down and mouth shut. I continued my life of the model civilian woman, hardworking and gracious, avoiding forming any sort of attachments to any of the characters I recognized if I could help it. It wasn't always possible, but it was easier since I was a civilian.

"Right." I nodded sharply, shoving my list back into the plain yukata I was wearing. "I'll be careful, don't worry."

Seemingly appeased with my answer, we chatted a bit longer before she had to return to running errands for her step-mother.

It didn't take much longer to find the last apartment complex, and I studied the building intently as I travelled up the stairs to knock on the door of the land lady.

The door swung open to reveal an elderly woman in a floral-patterned yukata, who looked as if the wind might just blow her away. Her wispy grey hair was gathered into a traditional bun at the base of her head, and she had a severe, but kind look to her.

"Good afternoon, Yamamoto-san, my name is Sasaki Mari. I was wondering if you had any availability for an apartment to lease?" I gave a small, polite bow to the older woman, whose name I had seen in her add for a discount in the local paper.

"Ninja or civilian?" She nodded her head in acknowledgement, voicing the blunt question with a guarded look.

"I'm a civilian, I work at the market near the Hokage-tower." I supplied immediately.

Her face relaxed then, a warm smile spreading across her face as her features changed drastically.

"Come in, my dear!" She stepped back, and I bowed once more out of tradition's sake before stepping into her apartment and removing my wooden sandals to stand in those old-fashioned socks that my grandfather had always insisted I wear. 'Like a proper young lady', he used to say. "I'm very glad you've come, may I offer you a cup of genmaicha?"

"Please." I gave a soft smile, accepting the offer of tea even though I was not in the mood for it. It would have been impolite to refuse it.

The Japanese-styled etiquettes and manners had taken quite some time to get used to, but now I operated flawlessly, like the gracious young woman my grandfather had bred me into. Always polite and properly dressed, not a hair out of place from my low-ponytail or more traditional bun at the base of my neck that he had preferred.

'Just like your grandmother', he would recount fondly at the sight of his granddaughter in her yukata and hair parted on the side and braided into a bun that was held in place by a tortoise-shell comb that used to be hers.

Lamees had worn a scarf over her head in public, to cover her hair out of modesty and culture's sake, as well as to help combat the heat of the middle-eastern sun. So, it had taken me some adjustment to become better adapted to having my hair uncovered as Kimari. Lamees had traded in her richly embroidered long tunics and loose pants for yukatas and wooden shoes in her new life.

When the tea was brewed and we were sitting seiza-style at her lowered table, she began her interview.

"And what brings a civilian girl to my apartment complex? I'm sure you've heard the rumors. Most of my tenants are ninja, though I would prefer more civilians." She began, eyeing me with interest over steaming cups of green liquid. "The civilian tennants are always easier. No seals, no random explosions, no weapons strewn about."

Random explosions? I hope that's a joke.

I nodded, meeting her gaze and answering honestly.

"I saw the advertisement for discounts to civilians." I started, admitting the true reason. "My grandfather recently passed away and I wanted to find a new apartment for myself."

Her eyes widened as I admitted my reasoning.

"Sasaki….You wouldn't happen to be Touma-kun's little granddaughter, would you?" Her gaze was much warmer now as she looked to me in anticipation of an answer. "Kimari? How you've grown!"

I paused in surprise. She must have known 'Jii-san somehow, perhaps I had met her as a child. I couldn't recall.

"I am. Did you know Ojii-san, Yamamoto-san?" I replied curiously, subtly cocking my head ever so slightly.

"Know him? Ha!" She gave a delicate, tinkling laugh before continuing. "Why, we grew up together, your grandmother was my closest friend. You do look just like her. And you don't have to worry about any honorifics, just call me Obaa-san." She waved her hand casually at my use of her last name, moving to refill my cup of tea as she spoke animatedly.

"Hai, Obaa-san!" I returned quickly.

"Such a lovely and polite young lady." She cooed, before filling her own cup as well. "I do have one last apartment left, though for Touma-kun and Kaori-chan's granddaughter…" She trailed off, tapping her chin in thought. "I'll give you another thirty percent off the rent if you agree to have tea with me once a week."

I gawked, before remembering myself.

I moved quickly, repositioning myself at the side of the table and placing my head on the floor in her direction in a formal bow.

"Thank you, Obaa-san! I'll take your offer!"

"Get up, get up! No need for such formality, it is my pleasure to help the granddaughter of old friends." She cried, and I heeded her direction, picking my forehead up off the ground and returning to my seat, unable to believe such good fortune had befallen me. "The apartment is ready for immediate move-in. I can give you the keys today, it's the same model as my own. Small, but warm."

"I'll take it, thank you so much Obaa-san!" I repeated. I couldn't believe what luck I'd had. And I almost hadn't wanted to come.

That would be almost fifty percent off of a normal rent, there was no way I could let that deal slip away from me.

"Although, I must warn you." She interrupted my internal cheering, and I met her gaze again, slightly concerned at how her tone had changed. "Your next-door neighbor is…well…ah, how to say it?"

She glanced to the side, seeming to debate with herself.

"He's quite the naughty child, I imagine you would be displeased with such a neighbor. Not many care for him, myself included." She finally settled on that description, somewhat vague in her choice of wording.

A child?

I almost laughed.

Lamees had been one of nine other rowdy siblings, I could handle a little troublemaker, especially for such a handsome discount on my rent.

"It won't be a problem, I assure you. I'll take the apartment." I assured her vigorously, a smile stretching over my face.

"If you're sure, dear…"

I left not long after, a new set of keys in my hand and a lease signed for my new living space.

It really must have been my lucky day, I thought to myself, and I made my way back home with a large smile and a bounce in my step.

.

.

Moving apartments turned out to be an easier than expected. Machi, true to her word, helped me with the transition, even roping in Keiji to help as well, who had all but jumped to help before even being asked.

With Keiji to do the majority of the heavy lifting, it was an easy task for the rest of my things. And I didn't own much. My grandfather, like many other civilians in this Japanese-esque culture, practiced minimalism, so I didn't own too much to move.

My closet was quite small, just a handful of different yukatas, some more casual clothing, and one kimono for formal occasions I had inherited from a mother I'd never met. The furniture was traditional styled, a low table, floor seating, tatami mats, a futon for sleeping, and small cabinets and armoire.

The majority of my possessions revolved around kitchen-ware, which had been packed into three boxes of pots, pans, and other things.

I had two wall scrolls of calligraphy my grandfather had made in his lifetime, a vase for flowers, and some incense to light for the alter to both my parents and my grandfather – but that was the most of any decoration I had out on display.

The apartment itself was small and simple, traditional with wooden floors and white walls, old windows that were a pain to open and close, a small refrigerator and an ancient cooking stove that only took coals.

But for such a great price, it seemed like a palace to me.

I spent my first full day there cleaning every little nook and cranny, scrubbing at the floors, walls, and windows until everything shone like new.

When it all came together, I sighed in content, moving to open the windows to allow a breeze through the apartment and leaning against the wall as I surveyed the tidy and proper abode.

Perfect, it's just perfect. I sure got lucky.

And just then, as I had barely finished thinking that statement, my 'luck' ran out.

I flinched in surprise and out of instinct when my window shattered and a kunai imbedded itself into the wall adjacent to me.

I sucked in a large gasp and slid to the floor, my palm catching one of the large shards of glass in my panic and drawing blood that smeared across the wooden floors I had just finished cleaning.

Before I even had the opportunity to process any of what had happened, I heard an angry voice from outside my now broken window.

"NARUTO!" The irate voice bellowed in clear frustration. "Now look what you've done this time!"

Time stopped. My breathing seemed to slow and I could hear my blood pumping slowly in my ears.

No.

It couldn't be.

In an instant, I was drawn back into the memory of the conversation I'd had with Yamamoto-baa-san, when she had warned me of the young boy who would be my new neighbor, seeming to debate with herself on how to inform me of the problem.

I was floundering internally, my body frozen as I was struck with a horrible realization.

My new neighbor wasn't just some troublesome boy. Oh no, not at all.

My new neighbor was Uzumaki Naruto. The Uzumaki Naruto.

My breath began to come in short gasps as I panicked. And I nearly screamed when a grown man poked his head through the shattered glass of my window to survey the damage his student had done, eyes widening drastically when they saw me sitting on the floor to the side of the window, clutching my bleeding hand to my chest and hyperventilating.

"Oh!" He breathed at once, pushing himself through the window to crouch at my side. "Are you alright? Let me help you."

He reached for my arm to help me to my feet, and I stood in a daze, still clutching my injured hand to my chest like my life depended on it.

This can't be happening. Out of all of the apartments, the only one available was next to Uzumaki Naruto?

"I'll take care of the window and pay for the replacement, it's my fault, I am his teacher and I am to blame for such unruly behavior." He offered, gently taking my palm from me to inspect the cut.

I nodded blankly, unable to find my voice to respond as the man with the scar across his nose spoke to me in an appeasing tone, the way that many shinobi addressed the civilian women who were seen as delicate and easily frightened.

"I am Umino Iruka, I work for the shinobi academy. I can assure you that his behavior will not go unpunished. May I help you to the hospital to have this cut taken care of, Miss…?"

I found my voice then, stuttering as I replied to one of the people I had done well to avoid until this horrible day.

"S-Sasaki. Sasaki Mari." I breathed, almost inaudibly.

Iruka gave a small smile that looked like an attempt at comforting, but to me it was anything but.

"I deeply apologize, Sasaki-san. Please allow me to cover the cost of the repairs and escort you to the hospital, you look like you've had quite the scare." He laughed, somewhat awkwardly as he looked my way, noticing my hesitance. "Please, I insist."

I glanced back down to my palm. It was a deep cut, and one that would need tending to, but I had little desire to spend any more time around the character I recognized than what I already had.

However, I doubted I had much of a say. He seemed insistent, and I hardly had the funds to pay for both a hospital visit and a repair to my broken window.

"Thank you, Umino-san." My voice was hardly higher than a whisper as he opened my front door for me.

When I saw the sight that was waiting for me outside the door to my apartment, I wished immediately that I had chosen to decline his offer and stay inside.

Naruto himself stood outside my door, head downcast with his arms crossed sheepishly, kicking at some imaginary pebble at his feet.

When the door opened I nearly lost it at the sight of him, my body and mind begging me to run, to put as much distance between myself and the little boy as possible. Being near him meant being near to danger, and I wanted nothing to do with him, despite the adorable pout on his face that would have made my heart melt if he were anybody other than the protagonist of the entire damn plotline.

"Look, lady, I'm really sorry so don't go makin' a fuss, okay?" He demanded, blue eyes locked onto my brown ones and practically begging with me not to get him into any more trouble than he already was.

It was too surreal. My next door neighbor, the future savior of this world and the host of the nine-tails. But right now, he looked like any other neglected child.

"It's – It's o-okay." I stuttered, voice still trembling from the shock of nearly being imbedded by a random kunai through my window and finding out my new neighbor was Naruto himself.

"It is most certainly not okay!" Interrupted Iruka with an angry scowl directed towards the boy, who scowled right back at him. I realized then that this must have been before Iruka and Naruto developed their bond. As of now, it looked like they hated each other. "Look at what you did! You've injured a civilian, a woman as well. Ninja are supposed to protect people like her, not hurt them! But you never listen, do you? You'll never become a shinobi at this rate."

Ouch.

Iruka's words hit him hard, and the young boy looked as if he might even cry. His blue eyes widened, honing in on the blood that was dripping from my hand with a horrible look on his face.

"It – it was an accident!" He started frantically, only to be interrupted.

"You could have killed somebody today! Kunai are weapons for ninja, not brats who want to play pretend." He spat. "I'll have to inform the Hokage about this."

The look on Naruto's face was pure dejection, as if all hope or happiness had been taken from him in a split-second.

"Umino-san," I started hesitantly, and he focused on my form quickly when I finally piped up. "I would like to visit the hospital, if it's not too much trouble."

And that was all I said.

There was something inside of me, a part of my heart that screamed for justice for this young boy, a part of me that wanted to comfort and console him or even to call out Iruka for his harsh words and reprimands. But I couldn't.

I was a coward.

I didn't know what else to say, so I left it at that. I felt horrible for the boy, but I was too scared to speak up for him, to bring attention to myself by going against the norm.

Coward.

"Ah, of course, Sasaki-san! My apologies."

With one more scathing look towards his troublemaking pupil, we were off, and as I passed him, I kept my eyes firmly in front of me, unable to meet the sad gaze of a boy who had been ostracized by an entire village for something beyond his control.

Iruka continued to talk as we walked, but I tuned him out, nodding politely every now and again to feign my attentiveness. All I could see were those big blue eyes full of hurt and untold pain and suffering. All I could hear were the horrible things that Iruka had said to him, along with my silence. And my silence was the loudest of it all.

A coward, that was what I was, a damn coward.

Guilt was what ate at my heart, overpowering the feeling of fear that had long resided there.

.

.

Later that night, upon returning from the hospital with a completely healed hand to see my window already repaired, I found a crudely fashioned package made out of a month-old newspaper on the step of my front door.

I stood there in bewilderment for a small moment, before a flash of blond hair caught my eye out of my peripherals.

Naruto was there, spiky blonde hair and blue eyes peeking from his door, which was cracked just enough to watch my actions. The horribly wrapped package in faded newspaper was no doubt from the young ninja-to-be, and I heard him shuffle in anticipation when I bent to retrieve his offering and began to pull at the newspaper wrapping.

A sloppy note and an expired package of instant ramen were the contents revealed to me.

'Dear nee-chan, I'm sorry I hurt you. One day, I'll be Hokage and nobody will ever hurt you again, and that's a promise – dattebayo!'

My heart nearly broke in two.

I was still scared, I was still terrified of being anywhere near any of the main characters, of influencing things, changing timelines, or being labelled as suspicious in any way, but in that moment, my heart melted for the boy.

Your parents raised you better than this, Abu and Ummi would have been so disappointed.

It was Lamees's voice that echoed in my head, reminding me of the values of kindness and compassion my parents had instilled in me from my previous life. It was her voice I heard in my head, not that of Kimari who had grown too timid to remember such things.

And the guilt was almost too much to bear. I felt the guilt more than the fear in that moment, and I knew then that my choice had already been made without having to think about it.

"Wow." I voiced aloud, loud enough to make sure he heard every word. "Such a kind boy, I'll have to make sure to thank him again when he becomes Hokage!"

The grin that split across his face made fighting the fear in my heart worth it.

And with that, I unlocked my apartment and slipped inside, pressing my ear against the door as soon as I'd closed it to hear a muffled 'In your face, Iruka-sensei! I'll be Hokage one day, and I'll protect the whole village! Believe it!' coming from the other side.

I smiled softly.

That night, as I lay upon my futon, attempting to grasp at the sleep that would not come, I pondered upon the events of the day. What irony, that I would spend two decades avoiding the very person I now lived next to.

I was unsure of what to do next. Do I intervene? Do I choose to help the boy, to be a support for the child who so desperately needed it? Or do I choose the safer option of cowardice?

If I got involved, what would change? Would I mess it all up? Screw up the timeline? Would my presence and intervention make things better or worse?

Perhaps I ought to just return the keys tomorrow morning and move somewhere else…but where? This was the only apartment I could afford and I already signed a lease. Maybe I should just ignore him from here on?

But would I be able to forgive myself if I chose to turn my back and scorn him like the others? It would be safer if I just pretended to hate him like the rest of the village, wouldn't it?

I didn't know the answer to any of the questions that swarmed like angry bees within my mind that was hectic with turmoil and moral dilemma. The only thing I knew for certain was that everything had just changed, my entire world of safety and distance I'd created had been uprooted, of that I was sure.

And at the center of it was Naruto.