Now I could start this how all those self-insert fan-fictions I read had, a recounting of the dull ending to ones own life, the philosophical thoughts on afterlife and re-incarnation, maybe a point or two on being reborn into a world of all too bright lights and squealing as I was birthed. But that is not how I would like to start my story.

No, it is not the start for me, merely another beginning. An important one, but one of any, none the less.

I would much rather begin my own story long after, to me at least, where many others would begin their own. When I enter the famous Konoha Academy. Six years into this life, most of the boring pointless stuff already done with. After all, that is how I would prefer those stories had begun, so it is where I shall begin my own.

I will warn you now, though, that these are not the mere fantasy of some angsty teen or well learned scholarly student, but the recounting of my life. Or second one, really.

For me these events where as real as the ones you experience everyday, but whether you believe them or not, I simply wish to tell my story as it was. So that maybe somewhere, somehow, someone remembers me and the trails I went through, at least.

These may only be the thoughts of a man who lies dying in a pool of his own blood, body riddled with gaping wounds and breath ragged, no-one around to even hear them. But I care little, because I can really do nothing else.

So, let me begin by explaining everything up until then, just so you know everything.

It was weird, I had thought to myself, that it had been six long years since my reincarnation into the Naruto-verse. Six years of dealing with crap that adult minds where not meant to. Six years of coming to terms with being, essentially, inside of a book, or series of, that you had read as a teen. Four of which I spent crapping my own pants.

Yes, I was twenty-one, now twenty-seven, and had spent four of my last six years crapping my pants. Honestly something I only expected to happen if I had developed an early onset of Alzheimer's disease.

Jokes on me, of course, as I am rather fond of dark humour and used to make jokes at the expense of such people. Oh how the tables had turned. The irony, I will admit, did tickle me. The stuff trickling down my leg, however, often did not.

But, that is a a thing of the past now, as my six-year old body was actually capable of being controlled and I was quite proud of mastering it.

I was born May thirteenth, as you would have guessed, the Year of the Kyuubi Attack. I was black of hair and of eye, with a pale complexion, a stark contrast to my previous brown hair and eyes and tanned skin. I was a healthy weight and of good constitution. A perfect, bouncing baby boy, as they say.

It was a hard thing to deal with at first though, knowing what was happening to me but having inadequate senses to even understand the world around, everything too loud, too bright, and just too much.

Eventually I realised I was in the Naruto-verse due to observation and one outstanding and scary discovery. One that dampened my mood on finally loosing the dreaded nappy.

Now, due to my features being that of a typical Nara, I would have forgiven you for thinking I was such. After that you probably thought I might be a Sarutobi, maybe even an Inuzuka, or a civilian.

Unfortunately my name was Uchiha Kazuma.

Yes, I was a fucking Uchiha. Welp, my new life had been short and sweet, but it looked like I was already slated to die before I hit ten. Thanks, Itachi. Really.

It took weeks to get out of my depression, one which had scared my parents. I could not blame them, though, as no four-year old should scowl that much. I felt sorry for them, actually. They did not deserve the ire of their son for simply bringing them into this world.

Maybe they deserved it a little...

Either way, I came to terms with my newfound circumstances and planned to avoid them. No, not with my inevitable death, but the fact I would have to do something to avoid it.

Say what you like about me, I can be a lazy ass-hole, but I do value my own life. So I got to work.

I began my training early after pestering my parents, took in every piece of knowledge I could, absorbed lessons like a sponge and trained like Hussain Bolt on steroids. So an athletic Stephen Hawkins minus wheelchair, but only six-years old.

My parents had actually offered to enrol me early, but I had refused saying I could learn more by being under their tutelage for longer – I actually made a small speech about trusting the clan's teaching capabilities more than that of the villages. Oh, they had been immensely proud.

So I had staved off the academy for two more years, funnily for the reason I had actually said. That, however did not mean I backed the idles the clan was pushing, I just wanted better training. Told you I can be an ass-hole.

Anyway, I learned well under the clan's tutelage, Fugaku actually dedicating a few extra teaches to me at my parents behest. The ass-hat seemed pretty proud of me, thinking he had a loyal Uchiha monkey that was a prodigy. The irony was, his two prodigies, myself and Itachi, did not agree with his ideals. Funny that.

Two years passed and I was then forced by Konoha law to join the academy or seek an apprenticeship. Unfortunately, I was unable to apprehend a good tutor, so no personal apprenticeship.

I really did not want to join the academy. To spend my days learning crap I already knew with snot-nosed brats. My god it would be hell. Alas, I had no other choice.

And so there I was before the academy gates, children all flooding in for their first day. Most looked excited, grinning stupidly as they waved their parents goodbye and said parents cried and waved them goodbye. I hated all of them already.

I looked at my parents, said "I want dango for dinner," and left them there. Like I said, I'm an ass-hole. My mother made sure to tell me that when I got home.

I was also grounded. I was twenty-seven, but grounded. Fuck this world.

One year into my academy enrolment was coming up, a year I would rather have spent giving the devil a blow job, but there I was.

Now this, this is where my story begins. In a classroom as the girl behind me sticks bubblegum into my hair, as Naruto pranks the class with exploding glitter capsules and my patience wears thin.

I hate this world. Thank fucking God I'm dying.