You have to admit, it's hard to accept a mere sixteen-year-old girl as your mother. I still haven't gotten used to it. Though it's only been four days since I actually met her in person. Before that, she was just some abstract figure, but now every time I look at her, my brain practically starts boiling! The reflexes my current body developed over three years clash with the recently poured-in mind inhabiting it.
"Yes, Mother. I'm fine," I say. My voice still trembles, but a grateful smile blooms on my face. Whatever you say, my new mother deserves kindness for the care she shows me. And I'll do everything I can to make sure she's never disappointed in her child.
"Aya-san will come in a couple of hours, so try to get some sleep, okay?" Mom said, tucking in the blanket. "I'm sorry I can't stay with you today."
I almost grimaced in response. Seriously, how many times is that now?! The tenth apology already! Looks like I'll have to resort to forbidden tactics.
"Ma!" I spread my arms and reached toward the girl.
"Yes, yes," she replied, breaking into a happy smile as she hugged me, burying her face in my hair.
"It's okay, Ma! I understand you have to work. You'll come back anyway," I whispered softly into her ear, then gave her a quick peck on the cheek.
"That's my dear," I heard her whisper in return.
Still holding me, she ruffled my hair and kissed me back, pressing her lips to my forehead. Only after a long ten seconds did she pull away and turn aside, hiding her suspiciously glistening eyes. Go on, start sniffling too, I thought with a fond smirk.
"Bye-bye, Chi-chan. See you this evening," Mom waved and got up from the bed.
"See you, Ma!" I squeaked from under the blanket, which I had pulled over my face burning with embarrassment—only my eyes were visible.
I kept flashing my bright yellow eyes until the front door slammed shut, announcing that this prematurely grown-up teenager—my biological parent—had left for her shift at the hospital. Only then did I finally allow myself to relax, dropping back onto the bed and pressing my face into the pillow.
This is so hard! So embarrassing, playing the role of a child! My insides twist with self-disgust—this girl doesn't deserve a child like me! Really, she should have had a sweet little daughter five years from now, once she had grown a little, not received the reincarnation of a half-crazy old man from another world. The world is unfair. And the shinobi world—especially so.
After a couple of minutes of reflection, I finally found the strength to sit up. The effort made me slightly nauseous, but I needed to make use of these few free hours. My mom is too kind, too caring, so I hardly ever get time alone. And while I didn't need it before, everything changed now, at the beginning of my fourth year of life. Four days ago, on October twenty-seventh, I turned three. Four days ago, I decided my nervous system had developed enough to accept my mind. Four days ago, my second life nearly came to an end.
Well, that's all behind me now. My body is no longer trying to kick the bucket under the strain. But damn, am I glad my mother is a genius medic-nin! To be honest, I have no idea how skilled she really is as a medic, but she saved me, so she must know what she's doing. And if she's managed to raise a child alone for three years while living comfortably, then she must be earning pretty well too.
Letting out a heavy sigh, I cautiously tried to stand. It didn't work right away, but I managed to keep my body upright. Sure, my knees trembled and threatened to buckle, but I did it! I made my way over to the colored pencils and sheets of rough, thick paper scattered across the tatami. Collapsing onto the springy floor, I sprawled out, squinting irritably as sunbeams slipped through the curtains and the leaves of the tree outside, dancing across my face.
Walking a couple of meters was a small feat, but it took me a full two minutes to recover from it. Weak body. Very weak. Finally catching my breath, I reached out with a trembling hand toward the pencils and paper.
"So then, what do we have here?" I tried to imitate a businesslike tone.
And here's what we have. I've been reincarnated! Ha! Take that, all you idiots who didn't believe me! Sure, I'm a complete blockhead when it comes to physics, but do I really need it? No, I don't! The fact that I'm living in a new body right now only proves that if you get lost in equations and formulas, you can miss the obvious. Philosophy is the science of sciences! That's why I'm here—and they're not.
On the other hand, I ended up in far from the best of worlds. The funny thing is, I chose it myself—almost consciously. Well, not exactly. I did want to end up somewhere my knowledge of biology would be useful. So I sent my spirit off in search of a world that fit that criterion. But the Naruto universe? Seriously?!
No, it's not like I have anything against this world. I even know what's what here. Back when I was an old man—an eccentric one, admittedly—I tried to keep my spirit youthful despite the frailty of my aging body. So I skimmed through the manga, watched the anime too. Honestly, I'm not even surprised this world exists at all. After all, if a monkey with a typewriter has a non-zero chance of producing a masterpiece, then across an infinite number of universes, every world writers back in my homeland could imagine is bound to exist somewhere.
But still… I just can't understand how I managed to throw myself here! I needed a place to rest, to devote myself to what I love. So why the hell Naruto?! A world torn apart by wars since time immemorial, packed with idiots dreaming of ending those wars! Did I seriously fall for the idea that this universe is also home to shinobi obsessed with eugenics—their breeding programs and genetic experiments? Damn it, I didn't expect such treachery from my own subconscious.
Well, whatever. Let's continue.
"I was born in Konoha. Wonderful," I snorted. "Only one face on the mountain so far. Great. Four wars ahead—so there's a very high chance I'll get a third life. Right… and about that face…"
I rolled onto my right side and stared at the large mirror built into the sliding closet door.
"Well, well, well… Hair: blue-black. Skin: pale. Purple shadows under the eyes. Eyes themselves: yellow, pupils vertical. Nothing's changed. Chi-chan, huh?" I muttered skeptically at my reflection, slipping a hand into my pajama pants. "Orochi-chan, and why are you not 'maru' at all?" My hand, unsurprisingly, found nothing between my legs.
Damn it. This sucks. It really sucks—to end up in the body of a three-year-old girl! And why the hell isn't Orochimaru a man here? Sure, even in the manga he looked… questionable, but his name is masculine! Japanese wouldn't give a girl a name ending in "-maru." Probably. Though this isn't exactly Japan, is it?
On the other hand, looking closer at the reflection in the mirror… Am I not too weak for my age? And those notes I glimpsed in my mother's things before my full awakening… Iryo Ninjutsu—very little in common with the medicine I'm used to, but some parts are understandable. Sex inversion? If it's de la Chapelle syndrome, I don't see any external signs yet—maybe they'll show up later. Swyer syndrome? Impossible to determine without genetic testing or until I reach puberty. No symptoms of Klinefelter syndrome. For now, given the suspicious lack of strength as evidence, I'd tentatively bet on adrenal cortex dysfunction with partial sex reversal. If only I could get my hands on a sequencer…
"So, first!" I flipped onto my stomach and began writing decisively. "Point number one: figure out this whole gender problem!"
Like hell I'm going to live as a girl with Orochi's capabilities! That Soft Physique Modification technique of his—it's every man's dream, and probably his partner's too! Come on, we're all adults here—we understand that a long tongue isn't meant for talking, but for… other, far more useful purposes. And being able to adjust the size of other organs would be extremely convenient too. Orochimaru's Modification Technique, by the way, seems to function as something like an enhanced genome, from what I understand. More precisely, his kekkei genkai is what will later be called the Power of the White Snake. I mean, how else do you explain my snake-like body? I'm a three-year-old kid who hasn't done anything to this body yet, and I already have snake eyes, thermal vision, skin pale as an albino's. And this permanent eyeliner around my eyes, like a sage.
Though my mother shows no snake-like traits at all. Maybe I got it from my father? Except there is no father. In fact, in this entire second life, I've never seen any man around her. Damn, I can feel it in my gut—my mother at thirteen did not choose to have a child of her own will. And her aversion to men didn't come from nowhere either. Shit… this girl really didn't deserve what happened to her. The shinobi world—fuck it all!
But I'm getting distracted.
"Point two: figure out my body." Really, logically, points one and two should be reversed—body first, then sex—but my male pride doesn't tolerate half-measures. Restoring my male reproductive organ to its rightful place—that's the top priority!
"Given the technologies described in the sources I'm familiar with for this world"that's my roundabout way of referring to the manga and anime"the modification I have in mind is entirely feasible. But to speed up the process, I need to add point three: study iryo ninjutsu. Mom will be a great help with that."
I thoughtfully gnawed on the pencil, examining my uneven scribbles, drawn by a hand still unaccustomed to fine motor control. Some thought that had crossed my mind refused to let go…
"Damn it!" I swallowed nervously, then quickly scratched out a new entry—point zero—onto the paper: "Do not let Mom die! Grr!"
If there's only one face carved into the mountain right now—Hashirama—then all the wars are still ahead. According to canon, Orochimaru's parents died during the First Shinobi World War. I really have no desire to be left alone in this world at such a tender age. Especially not with that suspicious monkey Kage as a teacher. Why suspicious? I don't like monkeys. I've worked with them in a lab, and I can say one thing—they're sly, scheming bastards! And there's something off about Hiruzen too. How did that spry old man manage to live so long? When pillars like the Senju brothers fell one after the other. Tobirama, in particular, died in close proximity to both Danzo and Hiruzen. Suspicious. And I'm also bothered by the fact that the Third somehow learned all of Konoha's techniques. I don't believe for a second that the clans willingly shared them. These are clans we're talking about! And beyond that, there are plenty of other questions—like the whole situation with Naruto, the indulgence toward Danzo, and so on.
But I'm getting distracted again.
"Don't let Mom die," I repeated thoughtfully. "Hmm. That brings up the same question again. What about canon?"
Yeah, while I was floating around as a helpless lump of consciousness near my new body, I had a lot of free time. Three years and nine months, to be precise. And I kept thinking—what should I do about canon if I ended up in a universe I already knew? I never even doubted that the world would be familiar, though I had no way to confirm it until I merged with the body.
On one hand, butterfly effects aren't typical for the worlds. The universe is a fairly stable system and always strives toward a certain order. Small changes won't alter the course of history. Even if we take this world as an example—say I quietly take out Uchiha Obito. So what? Nothing! Madara would still be alive. So would Zetsu, Kaguya, and the Ōtsutsuki clan. That means the Uchiha massacre would still happen, and the Ten-Tails would still be assembled. The only difference is, I wouldn't know how it all unfolds. A double-edged sword.
And my hands are itching! There's so much I dislike about that canon. The destruction of Uzushio, for instance. Naruto's parents dying. Danzo continuing to live. But if I start changing the story I know, what will the world look like ahead? Maybe it'll just lead to even more problems. I kind of want to, but I'm hesitant.
Though, honestly, I'm already trampling all over canon just by existing. After all, I've reincarnated as Orochi, and that character plays no small role in the future of this world. And considering I've been in this body since birth, I could cause a lot of changes. If I survive.
There's just one problem. I want to do a lot, but right now I can't do anything! How many years before the First War was Orochimaru born? Four? Five? Hashirama died almost at the very beginning. I won't have time to do anything—sorry, First. Not that I particularly care; it would just be more convenient to live with that oddball around. What about Tobirama? I think he dies toward the end of the First War. I remember a happy Hiruzen later showing the three future Sannin the mountain with his face carved into it, already in peacetime. And the war ends when I'm around twelve. Wonderful. That's practically middle-aged for a shinobi.
"I need to start training," I muttered to myself, gnawing furiously on the pencil. "Only personal strength grants influence. Money. I'll need money for my work, and working with the genomes of different shinobi will require cover as well. Experimenting with kekkei genkai would be interesting too. Yeah… interesting. But first—training."
My thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the door opening. Aya-san had returned earlier than the promised two hours of freedom.
"Damn nuisance!" I hissed irritably, masking my activity with the pencils as simple drawing. "All I wanted was to do science!"