Disclaimer: I do not own, nor will I ever own Naruto (it's aaaaaaall Kishimoto's)

Warning: Rated T just to be safe. It might even go up in later chapters depending on how much violence this story will have.

A/N: So, I don't really know how often I'll be updating "Novae" as my attention is mainly on my other fic "To Love a Song". However, if you enjoyed the few chapters this fic has, reviews would be very much appreciated. It's a motivation for the writer ^^

Also, just to clarify, this won't be a romance centric fic (else I would have put it in the tags). I will mainly focus on the protagonist as she handles the heavy position of Hashirama. I might add romance later, but it won't be primary focus.

Well, on with the story then!

Enjoy!

Chapter 1: Denial

The next time I would wake up, it would be in the arms of a woman, surrounded by people. They were loud, far too loud for my sensitive ears, though I was probably the loudest of them all, as I screamed and wailed in the arms of this woman.

At first, I had absolutely no idea what was going on. I felt cold beyond reason, and later was enveloped in a warm cocoon, my shivering stopping immediately. And even though I knew it was impossible to feel this way, I could have sworn I was being held by human hands… but… in the way a human would hold a cat or a baby you know.

I was beyond confused, having no idea where I was. Hadn't I been going to the park with my little brother?

And then it hit me.

Him running across the road.

A speeding car rushing without thought.

My body moving without a sliver of hesitation.

And then…

Then what?

I tried to squirm free from the tight cocoon, to assess the situation I was in, which turned out to be impossible.

Was I in the hospital? Was this the reason why so many people were in my presence? Were any of them my family? Was my brother ok?

I roamed my eyes through the room, watching the strange people surrounding me. However, I could not see any of their faces, my vision far too blurry. I needed my glasses.

As I became more and more aware of my surroundings, the room far too dark to be a hospital room, it finally clicked.

I wasn't in a cocoon. I was simply wrapped in sheets like a burrito. And I was being held by a woman, who most likely was the one to give birth to me.

Because I had been reborn.

Asura.

The memories came rushing, the pain I felt upon my death, physical and emotional, my grief, denial of my own death and lastly acceptance. Acceptance that I needed to let go. How I had left my family behind, my friends to grief, my entire life gone in a heap of moments.

And then Asura… who came to me with a request. A request I accepted.

A request I would come to regret to accept.

The tears I was now crying, weren't just those of an infant. These were the tears of a person who had lost everything. For as a ghost, I had had no tears to shed. But now, back in a human body, the liquids came rushing out of my eyes, stronger than before, draining me of energy, my emotions fueling the flow of tears.

And before I knew it, I was once again engulfed in darkness.

(Novae)

The following months passed quickly, myself going in and out of consciousness, and each time I had to remind myself why I was here, his name always on my mind.

I guessed I was living now the life of one of his reincarnations (however, I was baffled why I still had the memories of my previous life).

I often tried to call out to him, remembering him telling me that we would be sharing the body of his reincarnations. But a reply never came.

I did not longer for long on that thought. Most likely Asura wasn't even aware of my presence. As he said, he would lay dormant so long as another soul took control.

As time passed and my moments of awareness became longer and longer, I started to observe my surroundings, the place I would be living my new life. Thankfully, my vision had cleared and even though I couldn't see too far, I could watch the objects close to me with startling clarity.

I had had horrendous vision (due to reading way too many books in bad lighting), and could not see shit without my glasses. But even with them on, I could have never been able to see this sharply. It was amazing.

I was almost at all times at the presence of my new mother, the only time when I'd be alone was either when she went to prepare herself supper (mostly when I was already asleep), or when she was called away but these two other women (I assumed them to be her friends, since they looked her age).

This new mother of mine, even though I could not truly call her my mom, as that place had been long taken by another woman (which I would never see again), was a very kind woman.

She would feed me whenever she noticed I was the tiniest bit hungry (though it was sooooo embarrassing when she brought her nipples to my face), would change my diapers immediately and bathed me in the gentlest way. Before going to sleep she would open a book, and even though I had no idea what she was talking about (the language, I recognized, was Japanese), I enjoyed her soothing voice, making it easy for me to fall into my dreamland.

I had yet to leave the house since my birth, having only the windows to show me the outside world, and even though my mother was always by my side, I could not help but be bored. At least it was easy to occupy myself as a baby since I had so plenty of things to learn.

Such as crawling.

Potty training.

Eating by myself.

The moment I started to get the hang of my motoric skills (an infants body was so difficult to maneuver), I didn't leave ONE corner of the house uninspected (and got introduced to a second one. The bathroom).

I was bored.

Very.

Bored.

And my new sharp sight was awesome, so there was that.

My mother would often play games with me, clapping hands, bouncing me about, blowing raspberries. And even though all that was well and good, kept me entertained for a few minutes… it could not occupy my adult mind for long.

I needed to turn my attention to something more stimulating.

Such as the language being spoken. As my mother had a habit of reading me stories, it helped me immensely in my quest to conquer this language. I often tried to imitate the words my mother would speak to me, my tongue however, refusing to form the right syllables.

Eventually, as more and more time passed, walking was once again second nature to me and I had slowly started to understand the words being thrown about around me (though when they talked to fast I could hardly understand anything).

However, throughout all this time, I had not once seen my father.

My mother never talked about him either.

I had seen her friends come to visit. Their names unfortunately never stuck to me. An older woman would sometimes come to visit, seemed to be in her 40s, who would play with me and gush over me. I assumed her to be my grandmother.

But not a single male had stepped inside this house.

I wondered, if maybe I had no father. Maybe this woman had gotten herself pregnant (she did look awfully young), the father unaware that they bore a child. Or maybe he did know, but refused to take responsibility.

If that truly was the case… What a dick.

Not long after those thoughts had crossed my mind, a few days later a man did make an appearance. My mother was overjoyed, going to greet him with me in her arms. She kissed him, helped him remove his armor as she placed me once again on the ground (armor?) and tried everything to make him feel comfortable.

She soon went out of the room, telling me to follow, as I watched her cook a meal for this stranger.

They talked to one another, the man always keeping a serious expression, though he didn't look mean. But not once did this guy look at me, even though I had been staring at him in curiosity since he entered the house.

At last, the man finally looked at me as my mother finished placing the dishes on our table. His stare was more like a glare to me. Honestly, it was a bit intimidating, causing me to hide behind my mother's leg (I know, what a baby!).

My mother smiled kindly, whipping her wet hands on her apron before pushing me away from the back of her legs and leading me to the man.

"Go on, meet your father Hoshi-chan."

I reluctantly made a few steps in his direction, hoping he would not eat my head or something. The man finally softened his expression, his lips curling into an awkward smile. It was… kinda cute how hard he appeared to be trying to look less intimidating.

I giggled at his expression.

"Hi." I said a bit shyly.

He lifted me in his arms, spinning me around.

He wasn't that scary after all. So, this… this was my father.

However, I could not help but glance at the removed armor which peaked behind the door of our living room. An old fashioned, samurai armor.

What era was I born in anyway? I mean, I had noticed the house to be an old fashioned Japanese styled home, but I thought it was simply an ancestral home. Though… the clothes of the women were old fashion as well I guess. They always wore yukata. But how would I know? Maybe that was common in some cultures in japan!

But the armor… It told me that I might not be in modern society after all.

Was I born so far into the past that there was still war to be fought? What kind of life was I to lead? The women in war times were never treated right, always undermined. Though my father had been nothing but kind to my mother (she had been acting like a servant to him however, which I did not really appreciate. But then again, if my theory was right, this man just came back home from a battle field most likely. Alive).

"Hoshima, that armor isn't something girls should play with." Came my father's gruff voice. I did not understand the sentence entirely.

"Awu-mouw? Shuwd?" I asked in curiosity, my pronunciation horrid.

"Armor." My father clarified as he pointed at the armor. Though he did not explain the other word. He probably didn't know how. I would ask mother later.

So…

I truly was born in a warring era.

That made me actually sad. I knew now why I had not seen my father in the one year I had spent with my mother alone. My father was probably a soldier in war. And my mother most likely never told me of him in fear that maybe I would never meet him.

I knew why my mother was even so young. It was well known that women in the past married at an early age.

And the reason why I was always kept inside was also probably because of the illnesses which children are prone to fall to. And with the medicine of the past, it could lead to the death of an infant.

"Sweety, I know your father said you can't play with the armor, but you have plenty of other toys to play with?" I heard my mother said.

I looked up at her, confused. And then I realized my sadness probably was shown through my expression. She had probably assumed I got upset because I was denied a toy.

I immediately shook myself, a bright cheery smile on my lips.

"Is okay!"

After that I spent the entire day with both of my new parents, my mother always gushing over him, while he allowed her constant fumbling.

They talked about how her past year had gone, how I had grown, what I had learned. How smart I was and how fast I caught on things (thanks to my adult mind).

She constantly praised me.

Called me a natural.

A prodigy.

What a great asset I was to the clan.

What an intelligent woman I would become.

However, my father did not look very happy with my mother's praises.

"If only she had been born a boy she would be tremendous in the field" He commented, a sigh following after. Though I did not understand every word, I did catch on what he meant to say with it.

I had forgotten how sexist people could be at such times. And, even though I did not wish to be out in the field like him, the way he said it, like I was lower than someone with the opposite genitalia. It pissed me off.

But then again, they were the ones risking their lives, not us women.

And rape was unfortunately very common for the women of the losing side. I just hoped my father's army was the winning side. I did not want to be taken advantage of. Not in such a way. Not because some men decided land was more important than human lives.

Eventually the topic did shift to the war. My father talked about how it was going. How many people they'd lost. How many children were lost. He talked about some strange techniques the enemy was using. I only caught the part where they used fire. The rest sounded like gibberish to me.

"Those damned Uchiha!" My father would curse. Repeating it far too often, making me curious of what the word meant while my mother comforted him as she handed him some sake.

I mean, obviously I had heard of the name before (my love expanding to all kinds of literature… even the drawn ones). But I guessed it was a word rather than a surname. Maybe the name of the technique father hated so much.

"Fathew. What Uchiha?" I asked, my Japanese still broken.

He looked at me, his angry expression softening. He placed his big hand to my head, ruffling my hair. I looked at him slightly annoyed, making him crack a grin.

"The word in itself means an object which you can make wind." He tried to explain in simple terms. I nodded, indicating I understood, already having an idea what it meant.

"However, it is also the name of a terrible clan. The clan we are fighting against. You do not want to meet them honey. Not that you'll ever meet them in the safety of our clan either way."

Oh… So it was a surname after all. And the surname of the rivalry clan? The ones my father was fighting against. How interesting. Who knew that the surname Uchiha wasn't a fictional one after all.

And that it meant fan? I could have totally thought of that myself, what with the Uchiha symbol in Naruto being a fan.

And that was one of the many clues which would soon follow after.

That night… I heard noises I'd rather had never heard.

(Novae)

Fast forward eight months, my father would come and go every few months, staying for a few days before he departed to go back on the field. My mother's belly had been growing steadily and I knew that she would soon be due.

In the span of that time, my language skills had gotten even better, stumbling less on my words and my lisp also slowly fading (I made extra effort to not talk with a lisp). Walking was no problem at all and running was easy enough. I was finally allowed to roam around the clan (with my mother always by my side of course), enjoying some fresh air (and the air truly was very refreshing, the noticeable difference between the air in a city and that of such a primitive location very obvious).

In the meantime, more and more clues were dropped onto me, however, I dismissed them all as coincidence, the biggest evidence that I wasn't (ridiculously) born in a story was my own gender and name.

I was the first born of Butsuma Senju.

A girl.

And my name was Hoshima.

Honestly, I rather believed that Kishimoto based the whole story on an actual event rather than me being born in a ninja world.

Even if I had been taken by a man, in white robes, called Asura.

Please.

That was ridiculous.

However, the hardest clue to ignore was when my little brother was born.

I was overjoyed to be a big sister once again.

Though I could never see my former brother grow up into a man, I sure could be by the side of this little chubby little guy right there.

My mother had allowed me to greet my little brother (though I was still not big enough to hold him apparently). He was sooooo adorable and I wanted to simply pinch his rosy cheeks.

And then, my mother told me his name.

My little brother name was…

Tobirama.

I tried to ignore the glaring truth for a bit longer, finding it hilarious that anyone could be born with white hair. My mother so obviously possessed black hair.

Tobirama would obviously have black or brown hair like father or mother.

However, as Tobirama grew, his hair finally showing, I could no longer deny the truth.

Because my grandmother did have white hair. And even though young for her age, I assumed the white hair was because of the stress the war brought to people.

But I had been wrong.

I needed to face the truth.

I was a Senju.

THE Senju.

Hashirama Senju.

And Asura… THE Asura had asked me to live as his reincarnations.

Why did Kishimoto have to name his characters after deities! I thought his name simply meant that he was some Indian demi-god not freaking Asura Otsotsuki for fucks sake!

Now I knew why I had been born with memories intact. Obviously if he had wiped them like any for any other soul, his own soul even (or maybe he just couldn't do it?), I would have no idea about what was going to happen, and I'd probably have lived the life of a normal village girl.

But even with my knowledge, how was I supposed to prevent the whole tragedy? And didn't Naruto and Sasuke finally mend their ties?

Women weren't even allowed in the battlefield! We were supposed to keep the house clean, cook for the men, tend to the fields, get married to some warri… ok both lives suck.

How did Asura assume for me to make changes when I so OBVIOUSLY was a woman!

Even if my body had all the potential of the world, no would would ever take a woman seriously!

How could I possibly be the same as the legendary first Hokage anyways? I had absolutely NONE of his qualities.

I wished I had a good book right now to read so that I could forget this whole ordeal temporarily.

I couldn't even read Japanese even if I had books to read!

(Novae)

Asura.

Asura!

Asura please answer!

It wasn't the first time I tried to call out to him. Not once did I get a reply but I hoped. I hoped so much that he would listen to my pleas. That he would take over again. That he would once again resume the role of Hashirama. Maybe he would know how to deal with this entire situation, even as a woman.

I sighed.

It had been several days since my discovery of the world I had been born to. Of the responsibilities thrown on my shoulders.

And I didn't know if I could handle those responsibilities. Especially with Asura ignoring me (though my mind provided me with the more logical solution than he probably couldn't).

I was scared you know.

Scared beyond reason.

How would the war between the Senju and Uchiha go without Hashirama? I know that eventually Tobirama would take his place as a leader but… Tobirama couldn't hope to match Madara, especially not when he would get his Mangekyo Sharingan. At least I believed it to be so.

Would there even be a Konoha without the interference of Hashirama? And if Konoha was never founded, would the other villages also never be created? Maybe another person would have the same idea as the Senju whose body I possessed (even if it was a female one) and do the right thing. Why did it have to be Hashirama doing all the right steps. He couldn't have been the ONLY kind soul, right? I mean, maybe Madara could do it all by himself?

Maybe the interference of Hashirama is what made him go nuts.

What was I talking about, this was all completely bullshit!

But, I couldn't possibly take his place.

Even if I wanted, who would allow me? Who would train me? I could hardly teach myself no?

My god, Asura, why did you have to choose me of all the dead people.

This must be some cosmic joke.

The fear was ingrained in my soul, the responsibilities coming with this body crushing me. It would be years even before Hashirama would even meet Madara. It would be years for Tobirama to grow up enough to become a noble shinobi.

And either way, Hashirama's and Madara's friendship could never last. Indra's soul was far too stubborn to become anything but the monster he was destined to be.

Even if Sasuke was redeemed, the whole ninja world had to suffer before he finally saw reason.

And the whole ninja world would have to suffer once again for the same to happen with Madara.

No.

I couldn't possibly do it.

Asura had chosen wrong.

"Whatever decisions you make, I will accept."

The words came to my mind, a conversation which seemed now so long ago.

He had said he would accept my decision. And as saddened as I was by this, I could not see myself risking everything just so a brother that had yet to be born, would be killed, a friend I had yet to make, would betray me, and a world I had yet to see would be destroyed. Even if temporarily.

I would remain in this tiny village and lead the life a woman (as disgusted as I was by it). I was far more useful helping here, than become something everyone would sneer at, never listen to, never follow.

Because woman in this world, at least in this timeline, were nothing more than producers of heirs.

And I was no heir.

A/N: The reason why I changed Hashirama's name is mainly because of its meaning. Hashirama means pillar (like the backbone of an army type of meaning. Someone who leads) and seeing as in this era women were seen more like supporting hands, I could not really name her Hashirama (not to mention it's quite the manly name). So I decided to give her a name which would be similar but have a more feminine meaning. Hoshi means star (which also is fitting with the title as Novae is the merging of two stars) and as per Butsuma's wishes, each of his child's names ends with -ma. Therefore Hoshima.

Thanks for reading and hopefully see you soon ^^