Through my many years of living there were times when I had inevitably come to dislike some things. As of now, I'm adding hospitals to the ever expanding list.

And unholy monstrosities.

I think, after a week and a half, of simply waking up and crying a bit that I had gotten all of the sense of loss out of my immediate system. Sure, the death of my parents was definitely still present in my mind. Can't forget it even if I tried, but I feel as if I need to move on.

My parents gave their lives for me. Despite not catching more than a blurry glimpse at them, I took in everything that I could remember.

Spikey blonde hair. Blue eyes. Fast as shit. That's dad.

Red hair. A fan of chains, and hopefully not whips. Can give birth and continue on like it was a breeze. Mom was definitely cooler in my books.

Sadly, that was all the information I could put to them. It wasn't much, but I took what I could get. I would make my parents proud. After I had gotten out of my depressed fugue, I swore that their deaths wouldn't be in vain.

A bold statement for child not even two weeks old.

I may not have a perfectly controllable bladder, or a superpower that has been apparent, or an all powerful cheat that manifests in my time of need, or parents… gosh, when I look at it, I honestly don't have much. However, there is one thing that sets me apart from the average child!

That is, whatever that weird, scary specter thing gave me! A knife! A specter knife!

A knife I have no idea how to use, or if it will even come out of me!

My prospects are pretty barren, actually.

Still, now that I have a chance to not wallow in pity for myself, and that the craziness of my birth waa out of the way, I have some time to reflect. Like the fact that that specter thing looked kind of familiar. Where had I seen it before?

Try as I might, the familiarity was there, but I couldn't grasp where I had seen it. From my past life? I'm not too sure. There's also the possibility that I had seen it briefly when I died, and the image had been seared into my brain.

That's… actually quite morbid…

Another question for me to finally ask when I am set free from the bounds of my vocal capabilities. When that happens this world shall be mine! Or I'd finally be able to talk to people. Honestly, I'd settle for either at this point.

That being said, being a fully matured mind in a baby is not a fun experience. Zero out of ten. Would not recommend.

It really is not the best. You can't control swallowing, peeing, defecating, keeping your food down, your arms and legs have literally zero muscle. The things I take for granted are honestly a baby's hardest tasks. Really, I can barely do anything.

How do reincarnation novels make this sound so easy!

Random omnipotent being, please give me god mode!

When neither heaven or hell moved to support my wants, I fell back into trying to keep myself occupied. Which was either counting the ceiling tiles, two hundred and seventy three, or trying to call on my specter knife. The ceiling tiles were winning based only on the virtue that they are visible.

Wait! Visible! Vision!

I have an idea!

However, the world simply didn't want my idea happening as two people walked into my room. Or the baby housing room at the hospital. The nurses basically just shoved a bunch of babies into one room, and I'm fairly certain that most of them here were orphans like me.

I'm blaming unholy monstrosities, and ticking off another reason why I hate them.

Still, I had a job to do. To watch over the babies and make sure that they're all ok! I would not be the hero they wanted, but the hero they needed! If only my parents could see me now.

That was why when the two men shuffled into the room, I had stopped all thoughts on testing things out. They seemed suspicious. And familiar. Why was there so many familiar things to me? Is it my baby brain confusing me, or some other reincarnation shenanigans?

Ugh, why isn't there a manual or something!

The two men walked through the aisles of babies, ignoring my inner monologue, and stopped only when they were near my crib. They were watching me, whispering in their language.

I stilled. Did they know? What did they know? One of them was saying my name, but I couldn't understand. They continued speaking while I tried to make out some features with my new and improved ultra baby vision.

Recommended range of visual acuity is eight to twelve inches.

They were standing much further than that, so ultra baby vision was not in the question. Instead I was forced to try and make sense of the blurs they were.

One of them wore long, flowing cloth. A white cloak that hung over his shoulders. He wore something red underneath that. A dress? Was he actually a woman? There was a hat as well following the red and white color scheme, but honestly it was just a weirdly angular one.

It was annoyingly familiar. I was beginning to sense a theme.

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The other man was harder to pin down. He was a predominantly wearing something brown. Or beige? Somewhere around there. He also had some red on. Were they a couple? Matching colors would fit. Maybe going to adopt me?

Still, the thing that made this man so distinctive was the long, disorganized white hair he had. I had nearly thought he was the specter coming back for his misplaced knife.

Then the man walked into my ultra baby vision range. Fool! I have you right where I want you!

His face was surprisingly smooth looking. A tad square shaped and not really a looker, but I would say he wasn't too bad. Solid brown eyes glanced me up and down as I too sought to understand who he was. Most peculiarly, two red lines trailed from the bottom of his eyes and down his cheeks like ever present tear streaks. His mouth was wide and thin, reminding me of a frog.

Somehow, frog didn't seem to fit him. Toad, maybe? I can definitely see him with warts.

Now that he was closer, I could also figure out what exactly he was wearing. It was definitely a greenish-beige karate gi of some kind that was rolled up on his forearms and shins. On top was a red, sleeveless sort of jacket that had two yellow circles above where his pectorals would be. Underneath that was an even weirder piece of fishnet that I chose to ignore. His fetishes were none of my business, anyways.

The pieces of attire that drew the most of my attention, though. Was the fact that he wore a set of guards that were strapped to the back of each hand. They too followed his greenish-beige color scheme. On his feet were a pair of wooden, Japanese getas that looked absolutely horrendous to walk on. However, the most striking was the armored headband that he wore fit with Japanese kanji.

It was all so utterly familiar. I had seen this man before. I knew him somehow. Did he also reincarnate?

I had too little information about where I was, and what exactly was going on. How did I know this man? Why was he smiling at me?

Did he know that I reincarnated? Was that why he was here? To spy on me.

He spoke, whether he addressed me or not I never knew. Seconds later, I did catch how my name was said several times as I caught that his voice rose several octaves. Okay, baby speech.

Naive! I am not just your regular baby, annoyingly-familiar man! I am an ultra baby! And you have stepped inside my absolute area of vision! I can see as clear as a slightly below average person in here. Your demise is certain.

Of course, all I said were warbles that seemed to cheer to man up, and his smile brightened considerably. He turned back to the lady that was still standing outside my ultra baby vision range as I sighed. I really wanted to learn how to talk again.

Sadly, baby tongues are fairly horrible at making anything other than crying or bubbles. Useful, but not really.

The two didn't seem to notice my sudden spur of melancholy as they continued to speak in hushed whispers. They seemed quite sad as well as they sometimes looked towards me before turning away. I caught my name several times, and a few words that I was for sure were names, all of which I filed away for further reference.

Minato, Kushina, Hiruzen, Jiraiya. The first two didn't really set off alarms in my head, but the second two. Those were a headache.

Jiraiya. I remember that name for someone from Japanese folklore. He… all I can remember is that he rode a toad, fell in love with some slug and fought a snake. Was that the tale? I'm fairly sure that's his tale. Did this Jiraiya guy have toad powers?

It would fit with all the superpowers I had seen before.

Hiruzen was the more headache inducing of the two. I felt like I should know his name. There was emotions attached to it, too. Sadness? Loss? I couldn't really tell anything beside the headache.

When the couple finally left, I was left to slowly crinkle out my disordered thoughts. I now have names that I can work with. Two of them sound familiar, and the other two I draw up blanks. I set a mental note to find out about toad powers whenever I can actually speak.

Now was not the time to dilly dally by looking for nonexistent clues, I had a specter knife to finally put to use!

I thought back to how I felt when the specter appeared. This was all about vision. Visualize that the specter was once again in front of you. Scared. Confused. A little chilly. There!

Chilliness? I felt something tug inside me like a leaf that was suddenly caught in an updraft. An odd feeling, but helpful.

Okay, so chilliness. Is it cold? Cold like ice? No, that is further away form the correct feeling for some reason. Cold. Cold?

Cold like a steel blade! Yes! That's it! A chilling blade, its edge resting precariously against your neck like the hand of death ready to reap.

The tug in my gut grew stronger as I zeroed in on the image of a scythe that placidly hung on my neck. However, I couldn't get further. There was something I was missing.

What else was there? The specter was chilly like the ever present lure of death, but what else? Translucent? No, not quite. I'm on the right rack. It seemed to be apparent to me, but it never really drew much attention other than look menacing. Illusive, perhaps? Still not right.

Maybe, unseen! Right, that's it! Death cannot be found; it finds you. That's it!

I bubbled a happy cheer as the tug turned into an internal hurricane, mental trees and illusory brush were thrown about by my whims as if to serve my chaotic purpose, and I almost wondered if my body was even fit to handle that. Then the feeling stopped suddenly a loud pop echoed in my ears.

I flinched and then something landed on me. It wasn't heavy at all, though. Kind of reminded my of a cold pillow.

When I opened my eyes, I saw that a pillow was a vast understatement. On top of me was the knife that the specter had thrown at me.

Its length was a little bit less than me, about eight to ten inches for the blade while the hilt added another ten. I was reminded of a ceremonial knife by the look of it as it held no guard.

The single edged blade was akin to a slice of moonlight. Whatever it was made out of refused to pick a stable color as it was translucent like glass for a moment then dulled to dark, almost midnight, black the next. The smooth white handle of the knife was a work of art, and I couldn't even see the seams to how the wood carried the blade. It was as if the metal and wood were one and the same. The black inscriptions carved on the handle made even less sense now that I actually got to look at them.

Nonetheless, it was beautiful.

I marveled over the weapon. I finally had something other than my name, and ability to count ceiling tiles, to make my parents proud. I still had so much to do, and other things to find out.

I had little time before the next session of nurses came in to feed us, so that gave me plenty of food for thought. Like why everything was familiar. How sharp is this knife? Is there anything more than it just being a pretty little staby device?

Most importantly, how does a less than two week old baby smuggle a knife?