Summary: To be strong is not necessarily in reference to having power and/or strength. It's possible that it could mean to be fearless, to be impavid. OC self insert.

HELLO! WELCOME ALL YOU BEAUTIFUL READERS! This is a self insertion story that won't be based on my personality too much, perhaps my beliefs and actions I would do, but who knows? I'll keep this A/N short so you can read the first chapter, we can get to know each other after each chapter :D

I'd like to express my extreme appreciation at how you, the reader (or if you'd like leave a review so I know your username), bothered to look upon my story. So, in other words, THANK YOU!

I DO NOT own Naruto. Only the idea of my OC.

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(im-PAV-id): adj. from Latin impravidus, from in- (not) and pavidus (fearful): not afraid; fearless.

Do not spend your time being afraid, instead, become strong so that you are fearless.

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It was painful, scary and confusing. I won't elaborate on the pain, but I will tell you, the mind of a newly created life is compact and limited. There were things it shouldn't be able to do and everything I seemed to do contradicted this fact. The pain from this was simply excruciating. My brain was trying to cope with something it simply couldn't understand, let alone tolerate.

So it did the only thing it could which was to make it feel as though my entire body, however small, was frozen.

Not the nice kind of frozen which was the extreme cold that was sort of comforting and tolerable. No, this was like when something was so cold it burned.

It was scary because it was dark, utterly devoid of light. Confusing because in the first place I shouldn't even be able to comprehend any of this. My brain wasn't developed enough it shouldn't even be functioning so coherently. I shouldn't be thinking.

So I did the only thing I could. I lashed out with my limbs however underdeveloped. Kicking, punching and simply just jerking them. When I'd first done it I hadn't expected a response. I didn't exactly know I was a baby at such time, but I certainly knew something was wrong with my body. I just didn't know whatwas wrong.

Suffice to say, when I received a response my little brain couldn't comprehend it. It wasn't very personal like someone rubbing my back soothingly, it was distant. A voice, and a rather distant pressure. I would soon realize it was my mother patting her stomach to soothe me.

At the time I froze, stunned. What was that sound? And why was it so quiet? But it's effect was obvious to me. Immediately the voice calmed me. My thoughts quietened and I stopped thrashing. Normally I would have been bothered by this, such a sudden change in mood, but all the movement I'd done had resulted in me being far too exhausted to worry about it.

The next time I 'woke' It felt as though I was slightly more capable. Slightly better to be able to handle so many thoughts that shouldn't be possible. The first I tackled was simply how to deal with it all. I'd need to decide exactly which thought I wanted to follow, and which thought I could put away for later. In the end, it seemed that was enough for me to think about as exhaustion once again swept over me.

I decided upon priorities. The first were the errant thoughts that… wouldn't take much thinking. So I began with the question: where was I? The memories that I knew I should have just weren't there. So I decided I was somewhere. That was a good start considering normally when I thought it would end in me thrashing around like a madman.

I found it odd I could remember words, phrases, feelings and proper reactions. I contemplated it the next time I wasn't so utterly exhausted, perhaps they were so ingrained that even in this state I could still retain that knowledge.

And so I continued thinking and waking… and thrashing. I still became panicked or stressed often, so the best way to deal with it was thrash until I was being soothed by the voice. Well there were two voices now. One considerably lower in pitch than the other, however, both were equally calming.

When there was a change it wasn't a pleasant one. It was easy to figure out my mind was changing I was able to sense things like temperature and movement. This alone made me more confused as it seemed I was constantly moving.

I was brought back to my knowledge of where I was. Clearly I wasn't moving myself, so it was a good guess that I was in something moving.

Which only ended in me having far more questions to solve.

At some point, probably months later, my familiar space that I was used to was ruined. Everything began squeezing, contorting as it grew darker.

There was more pain, more than normal. I won't go into details of the events that followed. Everything became lighter, the unnatural and sudden change made me want to cry.

And I did.

I cried, mourning for my familiar space, the familiar darkness and surroundings. I mourned over the missing silence. Things, hands, touched me and lift me. They moved my limbs and tapped my chest. No matter how much I thrashed my soothing voices were nowhere to be heard.

It was so loud, so bright. Too much to take in. I ended up wailing myself to sleep, being that it was my only escape.

When I woke, it was far more comfortable and less noisy. Not as many things were going on. There certainly was more noise than my chamber, but it certainly wasn't the horror it was before.

After a few minutes of consciousness, I sensed someone entering the… room. By sensed, I actually mean I felt their presence. Like an energy with it's own personality. Green and precise, perhaps a little pedantic. A face entered my view, leaning over the medical cot I was in. His face was blurry. My newborn eyes were barely able to notice the finer details.

Nonetheless it was enough to tell the person was a he and that he had glasses. The man's dark hair was tied in a tight ponytail, barely visible as he turned back and forth assessing me. He then picked me up, more tugging on my fragile limbs. But I didn't cry. Instead I stared at him curiously as he checked my well being.

Once he seemed satisfied, I was hauled out of the cot with seemingly no effort and wrapped in a plain white blanket. Which was surprisingly annoying. With my newfound curiosity, I wanted to look around and see where we were going. But the blanket obscured most of my vision and I wasn't strong enough to sit up and look over it's edges.

So I resulted to staring at the ceiling. It was your normal ceiling, as far as I knew. White with lights every couple of meters. We turned a few corners the face above me seemed uninterested and bored. I didn't blame him, it must be rather boring carrying babies around.

We took one last turn and stopped in front of the door. Something moved below me, the mans hand. He knocked first, the sound reverberating in my ear painfully. Then the door was opened and just over the brim of the blanket, I saw a new man.

Like before, I'd sensed him. He seemed more like a blue tinged white around the edges, if I were to decide by color. The energy seemed warm and highly contagious. Something I definitely was going to gravitate myself towards.

Then they spoke. The man holding me talked first, the words were as confusing as everything else. Whether it was because I hadn't developed enough, grown enough, to understand speech. Or, the more likely, I simply didn't understand the words they spoke. A different language.

Even so, when the other man spoke, I couldn't contain my joy. It was his voice. The other voice that soothed me in my long lost chamber. Thus, when I was being passed to him, I met his eyes with a huge smile.

From what I could make out, his hair was white, fluffy and long. It was tied behind his head loosely and the tufts that fell onto his forehead were held back with his headband. His face was adoring as he smiled back at me, his eyes were of a dark color, but warm even so.

As I snuggled into his arms I reached a hand weakly up, my fingers moving slightly as I tried to grab at him. Instead, he reached down with a hand taking mine in his.

The moment was so touching, I was tempted to cry. Instead he looked up resentfully from me and spoke to the man again, the doctor I realized. The doctor nodded and left, saying a word over his shoulder, some kind of goodbye.

Then the man looked at me again, and we were trapped in each others stare for a long time under the doorway. Only broken when I yawned unintentionally.

He chuckled at my yawn, his eyes alighting in amusement and rocked me in his arms. He muttered more words before my eyes closed on their own, the slow rocking pulling me into a happy slumber.

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When I woke the man was sitting in a chair within the room. He seemed to be sleeping lightly. Not wanting to disturb him, I remained quiet and simply admired him. His hair seemed so darn fluffy and with my curiosity I couldn't stop from reaching for it.

My hand had only moved a few inches when his eyes shot open. He didn't jump or anything, just opened his eyelids alarmingly fast. I'm not sure why, but it scared me and I dropped my hand immediately and tried to fight the burning in my eyes.

He blinked once, composing himself. Then a doting smile appeared on his face and he said more words that I didn't understand. It didn't matter. It still soothed me.

When he finally broke the loving gaze we were sharing, he reached to his side and I heard something move. His hand came into my line of sight, holding a bottle.

I scrunched my nose and turned my head as much as I could. The liquid inside looked disgusting. My neck seemed rather weak, so my head was hard to move.

The man said a few words then clicked his tongue and put the bottle down. I waited a few more moments before turning back.

He was there again, doting on me. His eyes were slightly troubled and I didn't know why. He wasn't troubled before…

The door opened slowly, it's creak a simple giveaway. The man holding me turned to see who had entered and his smile only slightly shrunk. So he still liked the person then.

Words were exchanged and I so badly wanted to understand them. But all I could do was slowly watch as my fathers expression became serious and slightly irritated. He said some more words in a firm tone, resulting in the door being closed and whoever was there leaving.

He sighed before looking back down at me. When I reached up with both hands he frowned. I managed to put my fingers in my mouth and hold my hands out again, but he didn't understand. Oh, how I hated being unable to communicate.

I resigned to simply falling asleep, my frustration exhausting me far faster than I would like.

When I next woke the man was holding me again. He offered me the bottle once more and I did not protest this time. Anything to make him less sad I suppose.

What he fed me was disgusting. It was thicker than milk but tasted similar. The thing I hated was how it had been warmed. Just gross.

I did not stop drinking until he chuckled and pulled the bottle away from me. To my utter relief he seemed far happier than earlier. He set the bottle down and bounced me up and down lightly until, to my horror, I burped.

My face didn't burn as much as I thought it would, but it still blushed. The man seemed to find that rather amusing. He cracked up laughing, head swinging back and letting out a loud laugh that seemed rather musical.

He stopped as soon as I wailed once. His eyes flashed to me and a guilty looked flashed across his face. He mumbled some words and then kissed my forehead.

It was… weird. He was just so big. But still, it seemed so sweet when he planted that kiss. It did not scare me, even though it probably should.

There was more rocking and soothing words. Annoyingly I began to drift off to sleep as well, which seemed hardly fair. But then again time did seem to fly when I was with the man and his adoring gaze.

I woke up yet again. The man was no longer on the chair, instead he was lying on a bed next to me. I was in a cot surrounded by clear walls. I hoped that as long as I could see him, I wouldn't panic.

It was quite useful that the hall lights were constantly on, so enough of it was streaming into our room. Restlessly I scrunched and released the blanket I was lying on. When I grew tired of that, I went about thinking again.

The first voice I'd heard hadn't appeared in at least a few days. So that either meant she was a figment of my imagination… or she was gone. I wasn't sure which one to hope for.

Unfortunately, that brought on a bout of crying, waking the man. It seemed like there would be something better to call him. Hopefully I would figure it out soon enough. Even so he woke up quickly and dashed over to me. He pulled me out of the cot and held me against his shoulder until I cried myself to sleep once again.

Things were eventful the next time I woke. It must have been early afternoon for my father was cradling me in his arms near the rooms window. I quietly peered out of it so as not to alert the man. The window looked out into a park, the leaves were a bright green and as they rustled with the wind. The light glinted off them in a lovely way.

My attention changed when the man said a few words quietly. I yawned as I turned to him, making him laugh lightly. He waited a few moments before talking to me. He got up from the ledge he had been sitting on and clutched me close to his chest. His arm left me for a moment to open the door then we headed out of the room I'd grown used to.

My blanket had been changed. It was no longer white having been replaced by a fluffy blue blanket. The changed confused me until we stepped up to some sort of reception desk. He removed his arm again and I heard the scratching of pen against paper and exchanging of words.

It made sense then. We must have been in a hospital and the white blanket I'd grown fond of had been returned. Although, I was growing rather fond of this new blankets fluffiness.

The man carried me through a door… and another three doors. After the last of which we stepped into blinding light. It wasn't too bad, having grown used to indoor lights, the bright sun wasn't too stark of a change.

We were walking fairly quickly, the mans pace rushed for some reason. I listened to the loud noises we passed. Conversations were buzzing all around so I figured we were on a rather popular path.

So much noise, I'd never experienced this. It made me want to cry again but I knew I shouldn't. Not when the man was clearly trying to get somewhere quickly without stopping. Carefully I calmed myself. Listening to the man's heartbeat and breathing seemed to do the job.

It was around that time I realized I was an infant. A small, helpless newborn being. It answered quite a lot of questions I'd had. Why wasn't I walking for myself? Why was I constantly being carried? Why did I want to cry all the time? No wonder I was so small. So helpless.

Then, if I was a baby, and this man had fed me, cleaned me and cared for me so far.

That meant he was my father.

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Well, that's the end of the first chapter, or if you prefer, prologue. To recap, the main character (Yet to be named, feel free to suggest one if you'd like I was thinking Miyuki, because it means *beautiful happiness* apparently) was born and cared for around four days before the father and her left to head to their new home.

I hope you enjoyed and I look forward to continuing this with you all. Expect updates hopefully at least once a week. Perhaps slightly over, or slightly under. Depending on real life.

Of course, if you have any suggestions regarding format, writing style, grammar, story plot or other things feel free to leave a review or PM me, it's always appreciated :)

Question: Who do you think the father IS? And what was he so upset about when he talked to the mystery person?

~I apologise, writing a babies actions is something new to me so I hope it's satisfactory. Do expect at least slightly better chapters to follow (hopefully.)~