It was dawn.
The sun was rising, bringing light to the sky and turning wispy clouds pink and purple and gold, revealing the rolling hills below.
Amidst those rolling hills was a field. The field had been left to fallow, with no crops but grass and weeds creeping in towards the empty centre of the field from the bordering hedges.
Laying sprawled in that empty centre was a person. This person lay sprawled on their back in clothes ill-suited to the season, pale upturned nose accordingly red with the cold.
Upon that red nose a butterfly alighted.
The person's eyes fluttered open, and spent a moment taking in their surroundings before crossing to focus on the butterfly.
"You know those days," they addressed the butterfly thoughtfully, "when all you can think is just...This might as well happen. Life is already so goddamn weird, you know? Is this really any weirder?"
The butterfly did not seem impressed.
They snorted, sending the butterfly flying up into the air.
"Yeah," they muttered as they sat up, "wasn't convincing myself with that one either. Okay. Here we go."
They stumbled when they started walking, and swore quietly, rubbing at their eyes with a yawn.
"Fucking...pins and needles.."
Shortly they reached the side of the field that was bordered not by hedges but by a fence and a view of a wide dirt-worn road. They had intended to climb over the fence to get out of the field, but paused when they got closer and looked...up.
"Okay. Okay, sure. Right. Hey!" They called back in the general direction of where the butterfly was now flying in approximate circles. "Is this fence unreasonably tall for a field, or am I just really, really short?"
The butterfly, unsurprisingly, did not reply.
They sighed and started trying to figure out how to climb the fence, since it apparently wouldn't be as easy as just swinging a leg over the top then jumping down. When they raised a foot to place on the lower rung of the wooden fence though, they paused. Looked at the fence again, then the angle their knee was having to bend to reach the lowest rung, how small their leg seemed compared to the fence.
"Ah, damnit. I am just really, really short."
It took them longer than they would have liked, but eventually they managed to get over the fence. It wasn't as elegant as they would have liked, either - they grazed their hands and knees landing badly, and somehow got hair in their eyes.
This brought to attention several more problems.
For example, why were their hands so small? Being short was new and they were determined not to think about that right now, but tiny hands? Also. Since when was their hair black?
They wandered down the road, seeking something reflective so that they could try to more accurately assess any fun new physical changes. It didn't take long to walk past two or three more fields, with nothing more eventful happening then a certain butterfly - they chose to assume it was the same one, at least - reappeared. But eventually, when they saw some people approaching from the opposite direction, they swerved off the road into one of the hedge borders and waited for the group to pass.
They were grateful for that course of action when the other's grow close enough for a good look.
Once they were sure the travellers had gone beyond earshot, they climbed back out from among the hedges, barely noticing the greenery caught in their hair in favour of addressing their impassive butterfly companion.
"Was that a fucking hitai-ite? Like, Hidden Village type hitai-ite deal?"
Their incredulous demands still met Jo answer from the butterfly.
"...I take back what I said earlier. Clearly life can always get weirder."
Upon finding a large puddle in the road, they decided that would have to do for a decent reflective surface because the sun was nearing its peak already and fuck if they were waiting to find something better.
Closer inspection revealed some details that were alarming, some were pleasing, some were just goddamn weird.
Their face was very cute, and their hair was as straight and glossy as ever, which they were glad for because they quite liked their hair. This was pleasing.
Their hair was now, for some reason, black. It was also shorter than they usually cut it, barely at their chin, which was just fucking weird. They also looked a lot more androgynous than they remembered.
Normally that last little detail would have been counted as an improvement but in this case they could only put it in the really fucking weird column because, oh, that newfound androgynous look may be because of the stupid amount of baby fat. Chubby cheeks, huge eyes, short messy hair concealing most of their forehead and some of the bruise on one cheek.
They looked like a fucking child! And where did the bruise come from?
A hasty but through inspection revealed that yeah, this body was definitely not what they remembered. Most importantly, it was a child's, but also, different features, different colours, no tattoo. For some reason they still had the stupid slightly raised scar on their back from a couple years back, which they were both embarrassed by and slightly fond of the reminder.
More worryingly, in addition to the bruised face, they found rope burn around both wrists and ankles, and scratches all over their legs as though they'd run through several hedges. Or bramble bushes, maybe.
That...looked rather a lot like they, or whoever or whatever had previously inhabited this body if anything, had been caught. And escaped.
Oh please let nobody be looking to recapture them. Please let them be nobody important. Please.
They should probably actually try to get some sort of food, at some point. And water. And maybe not sleep in a field again when it got dark, because the sun was now very much at its peak which meant it would be working towards sunset from now on.
"Hey!"
They didn't react to the young voice, didn't hesitate, kept moving. Movement attracts the eye more than stillness, sudden changes in motion or lack thereof attracts the eye more than consistent movements. Besides, it probably wasn't them who was being addressed. Maybe, but probably not.
They hauled the last small bag of goodies - food, mostly, but also a blanket they'd nabbed from the park where people were picnicking - up to the roof then straightened smoothly to stand. They picked up the most recent bag and slung it diagonally across their body.
"Hey! I'm talking to you, stop!"
They picked up the other two bags - spare clothes and what few toiletries they could manage - and tucked them under an arm, turning to head back over the rooftop.
Then flailed and nearly fell backwards into the market because suddenly there was someone right in their face.
The man shot an arm out to catch them by their shoulders, bringing them back safely to more secure footing away from the ledge. They eyed him suspiciously, shrugging his shoulder off but saying nothing in thanks or accusation.
"Hello," the blond said, smile almost as bright as his fucking Konoha hitai-ite. "Would you mind talking to us for a moment please?"
As though it was a genuine request.
They ended up sitting in a clearing a half hour or so walk from the little village they'd just robbed. In an effort to ignore the tiny shinobi surrounding them, as well as Minato motherfucking Namikaze across from them, they fixed their stare on the campfire and let their eyes drift out of focus.
The entire time they'd been subjected to questioning about their thievery the past week or so - what other option did they have? - they didn't move from their defensive posture.
Their muscles were cramping up like crazy, hunched over as they were to protect the bags in their lap as well as the bag that remained slung diagonally over their body, but they didn't dare move. They didn't want to lose their stuff, for one, or be somehow seen as a threat to four people trained in murder since infancy, for another. Also if they let up the white-knuckled grip around the knees they were hugging to themself, they were pretty sure their hands would start shaking unbearably. And visibly, which would just be embarrassing.
Their attention was caught by an abrupt, unexpected question.
"Are you a shinobi or a civilian?"
They lifted their head and turned slightly to squint skeptical at a young Obito Uchiha, eyebrowd scrunched together, doing their best to convey confusion with every inch of their body. They didn't want to talk if they didn't have to.
Rin Nohara tried to divert from that line of questioning to something more based in fact - like determining what exactly they had stolen from who and what was not actually their fault - but was interrupted. By Kakashi Hatake of all people.
"No, he's right. A civilian shouldn't have been able to scale and walk over the rooftops so easily. Are you a shinobi?"
They frowned, shaking their head firmly.
"That's not a proper answer!" Obito burst back into the conversation.
They intended to ignore him, but faced with three piercing gazes, instead scowled and gave in.
"I have no idea." They answered grudgingly.
Everyone stared at them.
"What the fuck does that mean."
They scowled harder, huffing in annoyance. "It means that I don't know. I don't remember anything of my life up til a bit over a week ago."
"Could you...explain that a little more?" Rin said tentatively into the resulting silence.
"Sure," they chirped sarcastically, unhunching a bit to shove their sleeves up. Half the people in the clearing jolted at the sudden movement - perhaps assuming they were going for a weapons holster - but they just shook out their arms, baring their wrists with palms facing up.
Thus showing the nasty, still healing, rope burn deep around their wrists. It had been bad enough that in some places there were tiny scabs where skin had been broken.
There was an extended silence.
Then they shook their hair more thoroughly out of the way, and tipped their head sideways and up into the light - casting the green and brown bruise on their face into easy visibility under the firelight.
After a few more moments of no proper response, they got impatient and explained a bit further.
"I woke up in a field. Don't remember jackshit of my life. Given the rope burns and the bruising and so on, I'm going to assume I got kidnapped or something. That's pretty much all I know."
"What's your name?"
"I remember jackshit of my life," they repeated, deadpan. This was also a lie, they remembered enough to know the name they were used to was definitely not Japanese at all and so definitely not an option right now.
"How old are you?"
"I remember jackshit of my life," their tone didn't change an iota. Assuming 'life' here meant 'period in which the body they now inhabited presumably aged from birth to the current exhibited age'.
"Can you guess?"
That was Obito. They pointed at him.
"Younger than you," they informed him, then moved their hand to include Rin, then Minato. "And you, obviously."
They paused before addressing Kakashi directly. "I have no idea whether I'm younger than you or not."
"You really remember nothing?"
They paused, then kind of grimaced at Minato's question and made a wavy hand gesture.
"I remember plenty, it just doesn't make any sense. And comes in little unhelpful snippets. For example, I very clearly remember being a grown adult attending the funeral of my niece, who'd died of an illness I'm pretty sure doesn't actually exist."
Four sets of eyes glanced back over what was very clearly the body of a very young child, like somehow something really obvious had been missed, before meeting their gaze again. They snorted, shaking their head.
"Yeeeah," they said wryly, "I didn't think so either. As far as I can tell, literally all the conscious memories I have are either fake, incoherent blurs that honestly feel like fever dreams, or nonexistent."
"That sounds like genjustu. And I'm pretty sure civilians don't normally get placed under that kind of genjutsu."
They stared back at the other kids.
"And you think," they wanted to know, "that a shinobi would?"
A brief pause. What tactical advantage was there to making a shinobi infant recall being an adult, all the information about the genjustu that had been given?
There was a silent concession and they made a brief, muffled sound of victory before burying their head in their arms still braced on their knees.