i: Dawn Break

The dreams ended with blood and pain and darkness, and the memories began with biting cold and fear. Everything was a whirlwind of sensation, and along with it came a dizzying vertigo as I felt myself be lifted high above the ground. A high-pitched wailing came from what I assumed was my left, and I instinctively reached out with arms I could not feel to soothe whoever was crying. A painful itch rippled under and over my skin, and there was something heavy in the air that clung to my lungs and made me want to choke, almost like I was drowning.

Desperate and near-blind with no control over my body, I seized, flailed, and then cried in earnest. Hands brushed all over me, and I wiggled to try and get away, but unconsciousness tugged at the corners of my blurred vision. Sleep pulled over my mind in a tide as strong and receding as the ocean. I fought against it in my panic, but there was little I could do to resist it, and thus fell to warm darkness once again.

Hatake Komugi and Kakashi were born on September 15, two weeks premature, in their childhood home to one elated Hatake Sakumo and his wife, Chinatsu. Senju Tsunade witnessed and aided the birth. There was a quiet celebration in the aftermath as the two parents held their son and daughter with disbelieving smiles. The girl had been a delightful surprise, but with Tsunade's help, Komugi and Chinatsu came out mostly unscathed and exhausted. It was a time of joy as the twins came into the world whole and hale, in spite of their early arrival.

Only I was aware of how wrong it was.

Komugi's birth was not a miracle; it was a blight that marred the very fabric of reality. I was not supposed to exist, much less in the Naruto universe. Shadows of the past echoed in my dreams for many years, acting as proof of how unnatural it was. Tall towers of glass and steel touched the sky behind my eyelids, and the sharp odor of gasoline tingled my nose as cars roared on the interstate. Dr. Pepper fizz tickled the back of my throat as I swallowed, its coolness refreshing on a late summer afternoon after work. Then I blinked and saw the world in contrasts of light and dark, rather than color, and realized those days had come to an end.

For those first few months, I grieved. I grieved for the family, the life, the home that I had lost in one fell swoop. I had been a horrible baby. My recalcitrant attitude towards the man and woman who took care of me created an emotional distance, not to mention my frequent fits as developing chakra coils itched and burned (though at the time, I had not known what it was). My anger manifested against anything within sight: the walls, the blankets, the toys.

I wanted nothing do with this - reincarnation.

At around seven months of age, the world gained some clarity. My vision had returned, and if I was not mistaken, far sharper and fuller than it had been before. My sense of smell was oddly keen, as was my hearing. I could catch the distinct whiff of the Sakumo's now-familiar scent of damp leaves and something fainter beneath that, sharp like ozone, and hear his soft footsteps before he entered the room. He didn't seem surprised when he walked in and saw me already staring in his direction.

I spent hours intermittently rolling onto my stomach and bracing my arms and legs against the floor, intent on at least crawling. Chinatsu would sometimes help my pathetic attempts by gently balancing my weight from beneath my arms until my feet held somewhat steadily. She would do the same for my brother, as well, and it wasn't long before the both of us could awkwardly waddle several paces before our legs gave out. Sakumo was always there to catch us before our heads hit the floor.

Gradually, I learned to love Sakumo and Chinatsu despite my intense discomfort at calling them "mom" and "dad." It was hard not to, considering that they held my hands when I tried to stand for those first steps, changed my diapers, and they had carefully, painstakingly nursed me back to health after a mild fever. My twin brother became my pillar, and me his. Without his perpetual presence at my side, the resentment and anger would have easily turned into hatred, and it's terrifying to think about who I might have become.

I was trapped in the confines of my own mind, and was thusly bored. Being an infant was a great trial of patience, as trying to regain muscle coordination for the most basic of tasks was a cause for frustration. Listening and picking up the language that was spoken here was twofold in difficulty, and sometimes my eyes would burn from unshed tears when I couldn't procure evident progress. Most of the time, on particularly bad days when the grief would constrict my chest and not ease, I would seek out Kakashi - though he was never far behind. Unwittingly, he would be dragged into hugs that degraded into cuddling on the floor. Sometimes Sakumo or Chinatsu would find us curled around one another, quietly content with the other's company.

When we were one year old, Chinatsu died.

She had seemed drawn and pale for several months, and took to sitting and resting more often than not. She indulged Kakashi and I when we sought her company, but it was obvious she was not well when she muffled raspy coughs with shaking hands. A fierce woman with blonde hair and brown eyes visited once a week to check on Chinatsu, but it seemed as if there was little to be done. I had stumbled upon the woman and Sakumo arguing in harsh whispers down the hall from where Chinatsu slept. Sakumo had stopped the moment he noticed me and curtly dismissed the woman before unceremoniously picking me up by the waist and holding me tight as he went back to the bedroom.

Two weeks after the blonde woman's final visit, Chinatsu passed away silently in her sleep. I had watched over her with Kakashi as her breathing gradually slowed and her skin became ice under our hands. We shook her, trying to wake her with frantic, insistent cries. When she failed to respond, I turned and hugged my brother as tears stained my cheeks. He kept trying to touch our mother, not understanding, and my heart constricted in despair (he would never get to know her, nor would I).

For a few months, Kakashi and I were left almost entirely alone in the family compound as Sakumo hid in his room or threw himself into mission after mission. Every time he looked at either of us, his kind, smiling face would become strangled and heartbroken. His behavior, his avoidance, hurt more than Chinatsu's death.

"Dad!" Kakashi chirped when he noticed Sakumo walking into the main hall. It was the first time we had seen him in over a month. Vivid bruises stood out against the man's pale arms, and heavy bandages peaked over the collar of his vest.

The man froze, staring at his son with me close behind, as Kakashi toddled toward him and hugged his leg. I watched him warily, not quite as forgiving as Kakashi, but I didn't resist when the man pulled us both in a tight grasp and bowed his face into our hair. "I'm sorry," he choked out. "Oh, I am sorry. Please forgive me."

Something had happened on his mission, though what it had been, I was not sure. Whatever it was, I was thankful because we had our dad back, not some mournful ghost patrolling the compound during the night.

At two years old, Kakashi and I could speak in simple sentences. It was also around this time that I found I couldn't ignore the clues anymore, such as the metal on the headband tied around Sakumo's head and the rubber knives - kunai - that Sakumo showed us how to handle. The signs had been there, but isolated as I was within the family compound, the dots had not connected until Kakashi and I went outside to explore while Sakumo was on a mission.

Bold and impossible to ignore, the faces of the Hokages were carved in the side of the mountain and watching over Konohagakure, the Hidden Village of the Leaves. Everyday people milling about the street suddenly stood out noticeably apart from the darkly dressed ninja with headbands carefully concealed or openly worn somewhere on their person. One man ran across the rooftops effortlessly, gliding with an enviable grace and skill. His headband gleamed in the afternoon sunlight as he passed overhead.

My brain froze, rewound, rebooted.

Kakashi was understandably worried when I sat down in the middle of the road, stunned and dazed, as nausea curdled in my gut. Hatake Kakashi, the future Copy-nin, my twin brother, grabbed my hand, and I tightly clutched back.

I was unbelievably, inexplicably, in Naruto.

Author's Note: I have fallen to the temptation and written a self-insert fanfiction. I wrote this first chapter multiple times and consulted a friend for each of those drafts, wanting to get it perfect. Eventually, I just rolled with it. Hopefully, I can do the ninja world some justice.

Published: 9.20.2017
Edited: 9.22.2017
Word Count: 1525