Enter Asuma!
Konoha Year 49, October 18th
Today holds a significance that resonates through the very heart of the village hidden in the leaves. It marks the arrival of a new dawn, for it is on this day that the village's esteemed leader, the Hokage, and their beloved partner anticipate the birth of their second child. The air is charged with anticipation, whispers of hope weaving through the bustling streets as the village prepares to welcome its newest member into the fold. As dawn breaks over the horizon, casting a golden hue upon the rooftops, the promise of a bright future dances in the crisp autumn breeze. Today, Konoha braces itself for the arrival of a destined soul, a beacon of hope for generations to come.
Inside a room of the VIP section in Konoha Hospital, a group of nurses are leaving the room after a successful delivery of the child on the order of the patient, the Hokage's wife.
As I slowly regain consciousness, confusion envelops me. "Where am I?" I struggle to make sense of my surroundings, attempting to move my body, only to realize I have little control over it. My thoughts swirl chaotically, and my head feels clouded. I strain to open my eyes, but everything remains a blur. Concentrating on a single thought proves futile amidst the chaos within my mind. Suddenly, a voice breaks through the fog, a woman's voice speaking in a language unfamiliar to me. Sensations of being lifted envelop me, and as I manage to focus my eyes, I catch a glimpse of a woman with captivating black eyes and soft brown hair smiling down at me. Despite her beauty, my mind reels with the realization that I have been reborn, thrust back into infancy once more.
As the door of the room slides open, a man of distinguished bearing, aged between 30 to 40, strides in, adorned in the revered robes and hat of the Hokage. His keen gaze sweeps the room, finding it occupied solely by his wife and their newborn child, the air filled with the cries of the infant. The sound echoes off the walls, tinting the child's face with a faint blush. Turning his attention to his wife, he inquires, "How is our son, Biwako" She doesn't tear her eyes away from their child as she responds, "He is healthy. It has only been 20 to 30 minutes since his arrival, and he seemed unresponsive at first. The nurses grew anxious about your reaction to his state, so I requested them to leave me alone with him." Drawing closer to his wife, he watches as she presents their still-crying son, remarking, "It appears he simply yearned to meet his mother."
With a gentle smile, she teasingly asks him, "Still haven't decided on a name, or should I take charge?" Returning her smile with equal affection, he tenderly strokes their son's head before declaring, "Asuma. His name shall be Asuma Sarutobi."
---*One Week*---
One week later, the passage of time eludes me as I struggle to maintain consciousness, my body betraying me with its incessant need for rest. The persistent haze that envelops my mind persists, though with each passing day, it seems to diminish, gradually easing its grip on my senses. Upon awakening once more, I find myself in what I assume to be my new abode, a room enveloped in unfamiliarity yet tinged with a sense of warmth and belonging. Three figures intermittently grace my presence: the woman with the captivating black eyes and soft brown hair, whom I've come to recognize as my mother; a child, perhaps ten or eleven years old, whose presence brings both curiosity and comfort; and a man, my presumed father, whose visits are infrequent yet leave an indelible mark. My vision remains impaired, distant objects obscured by a persistent blur that refuses to dissipate. Today, my father paid me a visit, his presence accompanied by the faint scent of smoke. In a swift motion, my mother ushered him out of the room, her words sharp with admonishment. Though I couldn't discern her exact words, her message was clear: no smoking in the presence of a child.
---*Two Months*---
Two months have passed since my arrival into this world, and clarity begins to seep into my consciousness. Surprisingly, I find myself effortlessly slipping into the role of a child, my actions and reactions guided by an instinctual innocence that belies my previous existence. Yet, alongside this newfound innocence comes an overwhelming flood of emotions, untampered by the filters of adulthood. It's akin to being in the presence of a masterful comedian; once exposed to high-quality humor, one's standards elevate, and only the finest jokes elicit laughter. However, as a child, I find myself devoid of such control, laughing at the simplest of jests and shedding tears without rhyme or reason. Memories of my past life linger in the recesses of my mind, faces and names fading into obscurity while the essence of my former self remains intact. Among these memories is the concept of reincarnation, a truth that now defines my existence in this new world.
In these two months, I've come to learn that my elder brother's name is Kaien, a seemingly mature nine-year-old who carries himself with an air of authority beyond his years. However, it wasn't until I pieced together the names of my parents, Hiruzen Sarutobi and Biwako, that a chilling realization began to dawn upon me. A sinking feeling settled in the pit of my stomach as the pieces of the puzzle fell into place, culminating in the undeniable truth: I had somehow been transported into the world of Naruto. Desperate for confirmation, I spent countless hours grappling with the notion that perhaps these were mere coincidences, that the names were shared by mere chance. Yet, any lingering doubts were swiftly dispelled as my brother regaled me with tales of his experiences at the Ninja Academy, each word serving as a damning confirmation of my newfound reality.