AN: After being a worthless parasite riding on the Great Chain for the past couple years, I've finally decided to contribute to society by writing fanfiction! Anyway, this is my first story, so any feedback is welcome. Even flames, provided they explain what in my fic made them want to scrub their eyes in bleach.

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I've never been what one would term "exceptional." I've heard time and time again that, if only I applied myself, I could be someone great.

I've never seen the value in that.

It seems to me that there will always be someone working just as hard as you are, and the only way to be better than them is to have more natural talent or work even harder. Then another asshole comes along who works just as hard as you. It's a vicious cycle.

So I never tried.

Oh, I wasn't going to be a high school dropout. I had my pride. Rather, I was going to graduate, first from high school, then a cheap college, before settling down to work as a… something. I hadn't gotten that far yet.

Noticed my choice in tense yet?

If you have, or paused to reread the last few sentences, you might guess what came next in my boring life of mediocrity.

Or maybe not. Waking up as a child just before getting hit by a semi is a bit out of the realm of possibility for most people. But not me, sadly enough.

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Okay, waking up as a baby: workable.

Being stranded in a foreign country: not the end of the world (great opportunity to learn… Turkish, I believe).

Both: seriously fucking weird.

Excuse me while I cry my infantile heart out.

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Okay, it's been… six months, give or take. My situation has improved only marginally. I was wrong in my earlier guess; that language from before was not Turkish. As it turns out, the person making the noises, my new mother, was speaking… Asian. Possibly Oriental or Far East.

After being given such a long period to acclimatize to my new status, I can say with certainty that being a baby as a fully-cognizant entity is fucking boring. The actions under my conscious control include, and are limited to, crying, blinking, and, if I try really hard, rolling on my side. And whenever I do that, "mother" gets pissed.

Is it dangerous for babies to be on their side? It seems like everything else is.

I've accepted the fact that I'm not going home any time soon. Maybe I'll never get home.

Sigh. Might as well try learning whatever nonsense the woman is spouting.

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It's been a fun several years. Pretty much everything I took for granted in my past life I've had to relearn. Walking, using the bathroom, reading, writing, speaking, everything.

Still, it's not all bad. I learned where I am, finally.

Korea, unfortunately.

South Korea, fortunately.

Let me tell you, it was a bitch to learn something so radically different from English. Still, it was easier than I expected. Either I got a brain boost in my "reincarnation" or my baby brain absorbed Korean like those TV commercials say it should. Either way, convenient.

I am Han Jee-Han, an absolutely adorable boy with the most precious chestnut eyes and brown hair, according to mom. When I look in a mirror, I see Han Jee-Han, a shrimpy boy with unruly hair and a sullen glare at the precocious age of six (and a half!), entering the first grade. Apparently, it's pretty unusual for me not to have gone through kindergarten first. I guess mom's one of those old school home education types. Or just has too much time on her hands being an unemployed housewife. Come to think of it, I don't remember ever seeing my dad. But I digress.

The squat building I'm going to be spending a third of my foreseeable time is pretty new, a scuff-free coat of calming beige on the walls. Gah, I feel like I'm not going to last past noon if these are my classmates for the next year. That guy's even picking his nose for fucks sake!

Sigh. I would kill for a decent, intelligent conversation. I was never really social way back when, but now I would happily chatter someone's ear off given half a chance. I look down and fiddle with my clip-on tie. Mom thought I should make a good first impression, so she took me out to buy a white dress shirt, dark slacks, and a red tie. Makes me look like a businessman, if companies hired prepubescent reincarnators.

"Hello!"

"Gah!"

Unknown hostile on left flank, initiate evasive maneuvers! Wait… it's just someone poking me.

"Are you alright?"

I bite back the urge to blister the guy's ears and just grunt noncommittally. Judging by the way he gasped, I made more of a growl. Still, points to him for rallying himself and continuing.

"Ah, sorry. We're supposed to go to class."

Really? My internal critique of my life wasn't that riveting was it? Anyway, better thank this guy so I can get to class.

"No problem! I'm Shin Sun-Il. Who're you?"

This guy isn't going to go away, is he? I should probably turn around to look him in the eye. Maybe my glare will scare him off?

"Han Jee-Ha…"

I stare in shock. What the fuck is up with this… this freak's hair! It's forest motherfucking green! I mean, mom has blue hair, but she could've dyed it! Who would let a six-year-old dye their hair! Green! At least his mom had the same idea mom did. I fear what this weirdo would wear given the opportunity

"It's nice to meet you, Han Jee Ha!"

This idiot. This hair-dyed, overly friendly, oblivious idiot!

"Han Jee-Han, greenhead."

Maybe my irritation bled into my voice just a tad. Eh, serves him right. Dying his hair at his age, why, back in my day… Oh sweet zombie Jesus, I've gone old! I gotta get me them thigh-hugging bellbottoms and facial books the youngsters have these days. Wait, Greenie's still talking.

"… so everything's so exciting. I mean, I've heard stories, but it's nothing compared to the real thing!"

Pretty articulate for a first-grader. Then again, I suppose… some saying about glass, stones, and houses. Houses built out of glass stones suck balls? Let's go with that. Who's poking me?!

"… sure you're alright?"

"Stop doing that!"

I pointed dramatically at him with my feet shoulder width apart and the other hand planted on my hip.

"How would you like it if some weird kid poked you randomly while you were engaging in a mental tangent!?"

A confused expression crossed his face for a moment. Maybe he's never heard the word tangent? Not my problem. Wait, he's looking down.

"Ah, sorry. I just… Nevermind, I'm sorry for bothering you."

Shit, I didn't hurt his feeling did I? That would be like kicking an annoying, retarded puppy; sure, it might give you momentary satisfaction, but everyone around you would bitch at you until you made it up to the puppy. Er, the greenhead. No, I was right the first time. Gah, screw it, I have to apologize, at least.

"Wait."

He paused, back held stiffly.

"I… look, sorry for snapping at you, alright. I've just been irritable these past few weeks."

He remained still. Jeez, now that I look at him, he's got some serious muscles for a six-year-old.

"You can't just go around poking people if they zone out for a few second's though! It's… it's…," I want to say dickish or bitchy, but there's not telling if a teacher's around, "rude. So knock it off!"

Ah, that got him to turn around, finally. Eh, what's with that stony expression? Oh God, I pissed him off didn't I? Dammit, all of my martial arts rely kicking someone's balls. Wait, that's still a valid tactic, just gotta- Gah, w-when'd he get in front of me. Oh, jeez, that grip is strong. If I die, tell mom she pushed me into this.

"Be my friend."

What?

"Be my friend."

Shit, I said that out loud, didn't I? Well, let's agree with the scary, green-headed kid with the kung-fu action grip.

"Ah, s-sure."

As soon as the last syllable passed my lips, he released me and scratched the back of his head sheepishly.

"Ah, sorry about that. You're just the first person my age who hasn't graveled to me."

Sigh. I think he meant groveled. Why would anyone respect this bipolar idiot? What's this feeling of dread creeping up my spine? Or is that arousal? Dammit, I don't want to get boners now! That's just going to make things even more awkward with everyone!

"Class started five minutes ago, you two."

Jesus fuck! We both jumped at the authoritative voice. Maybe Shin has a point, maybe I do get caught up in my thoughts too much. I just can't help wanting to converse with a better class of people.

"I suppose I'll just have to drag you to class, then."

Gah, pain, PAIN! I didn't know my ear would hurt so much!

As I was dragged away by some random woman, I couldn't help but wonder what the rest of my new life would be like. Judging by this, dull and tedious, punctuated by moments of extreme, pants-wetting fear and pain of unimaginable magnitudes.

Joy.

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Tell me what you think! Additionally, my knowledge of Korean is practically nil, so I'll be avoiding honorifics.