A/N: So. This is the revamped prologue of Eyes Open. My first and second chapter will follow soon- I'll try to get them up by Tuesday, but it depends on what kind of stuff RL decides to dish out.

Originally, I never planned for this to go beyond a couple of chapters- hence the reason I never bothered getting a beta. But now...well. Suffice to say, that changed, though I'm not thrilled to be given another serious commitment.

ONE THING I'D LIKE TO MAKE CLEAR: As far as I'm concerned, Kaguya does not happen. The whole Indra-Asura-whatever does not happen. Chakra did not come from fruit. The Sage of Six Paths never makes an appearance. Okay? Okay.

Sorry for any of you who actually liked Kaguya, but...no. Just no. Thank you, and please enjoy.

PROLOGUE

Where we ended up after death hadn't really mattered to me. In fact, I had never really gave it much beyond a passing thought; my priorities had been clear, even back then: family always came first; everything else—including myself—a close second.

Which is funny, because maybe if I had cared more about myself, I wouldn't be in this situation in the first place.

What situation, you ask?

Well, stick around and I'll tell you.

ʕ •́؈•̀ ₎

In the rare moments that I did think of what might happen to me when I died—at funerals and things of the like, when you couldn't help but wonder—I had assumed that it would just be nothingness; that I would simply cease to exist. I had never believed in things like heaven or hell, as I had found the concepts to be ridiculous: a tall tale we're spoon-fed in an effort to scare us into being good, lest we suffer eternal fiery torment. Something no more feasible than Santa Claus or the Tooth Fairy.

In fact, I never even considered reincarnation to be a viable prospect—and certainly not reincarnation into a fictional universe where people can literally spit fire. No no no—it simply doesn't happen.

As it turns out, I was wrong—very, very wrong.

ʕ •́؈•̀ ₎

Death was...simply put, one of the strangest things I have ever experienced.

One moment, it's a distant sort of pain, and then a feeling of disconnection and cold and then—

—weightlessness.

ʕ •́؈•̀ ₎

When I first wound up in the thick, imposing darkness, I was scared and confused beyond all possible belief, and ended up taking it out on the rubbery walls around me with hard kicks and punches until muffled voices and distant sort of pressure managed to calm me down after a while.

I had drifted into unconsciousness not long afterward, though my confusion hadn't abated for a second. I mean, I had died just minutes ago...hadn't I?

ʕ •́؈•̀ ₎

The next time I regained consciousness, it was to the darkness I had grown used to being wrenched away from me. There was pain, terror, helplessness, an inexplicable feeling of constriction, and air that was so cold that it burned.

After that, there was no shortness of helplessness and confusion. And for good reason, too; a babies' eyes don't develop well enough to see until several months after their birth. My entire world was blurry—like it is when trying on someone else's prescription glasses—and I had a difficult time distinguishing colors; something that was once simple and accomplished instantaneously.

I'll be honest with you: it was terrifying. I'd had next to no upper body strength, so I couldn't even sit up on my own. There was an unbearable itch inside of my body that I now know was my developing chakra coils. And to top it all off, I couldn't even communicate my discomfort; every time I tried, it just sounded like somewhere between gibberish and the after-effects of a severe stroke—which lead to the thought: had I suffered one, but survived? If so, did I suffer severe brain damage? Is that why I cannot see or walk or talk?

I didn't know, and I couldn't exactly ask if I had. So, I did the only I could do: I screamed. I cried. And when I was done with that, I screamed and cried some more.

Maybe it's strange that I, an adult in all but body, would react this way. But I was, in part, ruled by the biological urges of the body I was inhabiting—hence why I could no longer control when or where I went to the bathroom—and I'll admit it; it was lonely, being in that state. I couldn't even tell whether or not my family was visiting me.

I could tell that someone was constantly speaking to me (possibly in another language—at least, that's what I'd told myself, because I hadn't even wanted to think that I might be suffering from aphasia) and that it was almost always the same person.

Strangely enough, I could also tell that this strange person was always lifting and carrying me—which didn't make a whole lot of sense; I had always been on the short side, but I was never that short, and I'm actually pretty heavy for my height. And in the state I am now, I'd think they'd give me everything through a tube—which wasn't an especially pleasant thought, but it's not like I'd be able to eat in any other way.

But it didn't matter much to me...until my senses cleared and I could see my caretaker's face.

Because the purple rectangles on his face looked like an exact replica of the markings on that one anime character Rin Nohara from that show I watch—or used to watch with my sister, up until my death. Honestly, my knowledge of the Naruto-verse was spotty at best, because I hadn't really had the time to watch it like I used to. And when I did have time, my sister would have watched eight more episodes and I'd just have to watch and wander what the hell had happened in between then and now.

Except for when the episodes heavily featured Kakashi. My sister had a huge crush on his character, and would re-watch episodes about him constantly in between chapter releases—from both FanFiction and the manga—and talk all about the episodes I'd missed, what her friends said would happen in the next episode or chapter, etc.

I'd honestly tried to listen, but most went in one ear and out the other. But I know enough to recognize the symbols of most of the Hidden Villages—especially when nearly every one of the characters I see has one on him somewhere.

And, uh. That was definitely the Konoha hitai-ate wrapped around his neck like one of my Dad's old ascots.

Of course, I had simply dismissed it as him cosplaying because it was probably Halloween by then—because it couldn't be anything but that, right?

Ha. I wish.

edit: just tweaked the chapter a bit.

A/N: So, those of you who have been waiting for me to update, I apologize for taking so long. I hope the redone chapters are worth it. Also, is there anyone who wants to beta for this story? If so, let me know.

QUESTION: If you had to choose, which fandom would you be reincarnated into?