Chapter 1: Death in the Afternoon
1.5 oz Absinthe, 4.5 oz Champagne, poured into a champagne flute
"Life is this crazy, mystical thing, and sometimes, you just go out like a buster." Joseph "Mang0" Marquez
Like an old film reel, fragmented images of his life, flashed in the nothingness. Then, blackness, the brightest darkness ever, or was it the darkest light ever? The only thing the being could perceive was that nothing was as it should be, yet everything was in its natural state. It was a finite, never-ending existence of contradiction. He was self-aware and could feel his form, but he had no tangibility. It truly was the greatest torture and the most amazing pleasure ever. Then, it stopped.
Despite not being aware of any physical form, he felt a violent jerk before his surroundings materialized as forcibly as possible, replacing the blank nothingness with vivid, saturated colors. He was in a room, of sorts. There was a floor, that much he knew, but rather than any real walls, there was just darkness, almost as though the world were a game that never finished loading. His back was resting against something soft, and his bottom was bent to an almost perfect, 90-degree angle, with his legs hanging limply off the edge of whatever he was on.
What was this feeling called again? Ah, yes. Sitting. He was sitting in a… chair.
The clearing of a throat signified that he was not alone. The blurred colors clarified, allowing him to process the table in front of him, and the figure opposite to him. This thing, despite its humanoid build and appearance, was not human. It could not be human. Its skin was hued with mauve overtones, poking out from the openings of the voluminous, pale cloak that garbed its body. His eyes roamed up the figure's torso and rested on its head. Unruly white hair covered much of the figure, interrupted only by sleek, curved red horns and a grinning face, with sharp teeth gleaming in the nonexistent light. For all intents and purposes, it still could have been a human, albeit a heavily altered human, if not for the wicked aura it gave off. Just being near it gave the lost soul a feeling of instinctual terror and respect.
Then, it spoke. It was a strange noise, grating heavily on his ears, but soothing on his nerves that he hadn't even known were frazzled. It was a deep, booming voice that conveyed a sense of both sagely wisdom and innocent purity.
"Another lost soul, roused from the sleep of Death," It said. "And by Death, I am of course speaking of none other than Myself."
The Being paused, probably hoping for some kind of reaction .The soul said nothing, as he wasn't sure he could even speak.
"You are interesting. No. That's not right. You are just another creature subject to its base instincts, like the rest of your kind."
It paused, inhaling deeply.
"It is your soul. It is unlike any other soul I have ever consumed."
Then, it pulled out a simple, single edged dagger and stabbed it violently into the table. Its Cheshire grin was gone.
"I cannot consume it. I cannot claim you as one of my own. Why is that? I know you are dead. No one knows of such matters more than I do. I wonder…"
It reached across the table, placing its black-tipped hands on his face, obscuring his vision. He felt something leave him but still felt whole. Then, his sight was returned to him. The grin had returned, full-force. It hummed appreciatively.
"I see. I cannot claim you, as you are not one of Mine. You do not belong here, yet, here you are, before Me."
It leaned forward, Its chilling breath washing over Its conversation partner.
"Tell me, do you fear me? Do you fear Death?"
Then, something clicked. The dead man finally found his voice.
"Fuck no. Fuck you. I'm too awesome to be weighed down by something like You."
Death jerked back. Then, He started to chuckle, letting out a sound vaguely reminiscent to the toll of funeral bells. It leaned forward pulling the knife out of the table.
"I've never had any creature ever speak to Me in such a way. It is both refreshing and vexing."
"Yeah, yeah. Say, do you have anything to drink?"
"I suppose so."
A ceramic bottle appeared on the table with a thump, followed by two smaller cups.
"I know what you want. You seek the intoxicating brew of the humans. What your kind calls alcohol."
"Hell yeah! Now we're talking."
He reached across the table to grab the bottle, but it vanished before he could touch it.
"No. No drinking yet. We haven't finished discussing what I want to talk about yet."
The dead man glared at He who Embodies Death. No one took his alcohol from him, not even all-powerful deities. He lunged across the table, only to be stopped mid leap. White linen tightly wrapped his body before pulling him back to his seat. He opened his mouth to yell some obscenities, but more linen wrapped around his head, effectively gagging him.
"We can't have any of that, can we?"
Death twirled the dagger listlessly in His hand.
"Now, what was I going to say? Ah, yes. I've seen some things when I read you. It would seem like this world that I claim dominion over the End of is merely a story to you. I read that story through your eyes, and I have to say, I do not like it. These shinobi trying to claim dominion over me, raising souls from the dead as undying warriors… The very idea sickens me."
The dagger disappeared back into the folds of his cloak as he folded his hands on top of the lacquered wood.
"This is where you come in. I have, in my infinite wisdom, developed a two-fold plan. You will be my tool to prevent this Sacrilege from ever occurring. I will grant you a life as a denizen of My lands, the Elemental Nations, if you do as I ask."
The cloth covering his mouth slackened and slipped off.
"Say I accept this deal. What's stopping me from just living out my life as I please and ignoring your orders? You've already implied that you cannot directly interfere in the mortal realm."
"How clever of you, human. Did you think I hadn't thought of this possibility? If you return to life in my realm, you will become my property. I will mark your soul, and you will never find any degree of peace if you stray from my orders."
"Then what's in it for me?"
Its grin broadened.
"Isn't it obvious? In my realm, there are many types of liquor that you cannot even imagine. Would you not jump at the chance to experience and revel in such earthly pleasures?"
The human slouched back and smiled.
"Well, you got me there. Fine. I agree. Fucking make me a ninja."
"Now, hold on. We still have more specifics to go over. Namely, who you will be in this world of mine."
The deity waved its billowing sleeve over the table, revealing a rough map of the Elemental Nations.
"These are my lands. Choose which nation you will die for."
He surveyed the map of a continent that was definitely not from his Earth.
"Which one's got the Leaf place? Just put me there."
He who Embodies Death stabbed his knife into the rough center of the map, chuckling as the metal rang through the room.
"So it's decided then. Now, let it be known that I am not a cruel God. I will grant you one boon."
Death pulled the dagger from the table dragging the map with it. With a flourish of the knife, the large sheet was cut into several cards with basic drawings on it. The deceased man surveyed the cards trying to find one to be born with.
Sharingan, the eye that grants you the ability perfectly read your enemies and place them under powerful illusions. Pros: it's pretty badass. Cons: You will either get killed by Itachi or end up killing all of your closest friends.
Nah.
Byakugan, another of the big three doujutsu. Grants the user flawless vision at a range of nearly 360° as well as the ability to clearly see the flow of chakra in other living beings. The main downsides were that he'd end up seeing something he never would never want to see and probably get branded with a painful, mind-altering juinjutsu.
Pass.
He picked up a card with 6 concentric circles, but was unable to choose it, as the Shinigami swiped it out of his hand.
"No. Not that one. The ability to reincarnate others pisses Me off like no other."
Brad simply shrugged and went on to the couple cards, which all looked about the same.
All of them listed some kind of elemental nature manipulation, such as the ice release or dust release. They were all devastatingly powerful if used correctly. Any person using any of these would become formidable ninjutsu powerhouses, more than capable of dominating a battlefield. Unfortunately, such a thing seemed to be extremely boring to someone like Brad.
Finally, after so many more cards listing generally unacceptable bloodlines, Brad happened upon the last card, which was partially under the resting hand of the death. It lacked the pristine quality of the other cards, and was instead wrinkled and stained with gray patches.
"Oi. What's that one?"
The purple hand clenched the around the card, wrinkling it further, and more importantly, obscuring its contents completely. An aura of tangible displeasure began to emanate from the otherworldly being.
"This one… should not be here. It was only a joke."
"Well, it's there, and you said I could choose from any of the cards."
He reached forward for the card. Death sighed, and relinquished his hold, letting the slip of paper float listlessly into Brad's outreached hand. His eyes widened at the sight of the card. A grin, pure and wholehearted, formed on his face.
"I'll take it."
"But–"
"I said, 'I'll take it.'"
"It's not even supposed to – "
"You said I can choose, and I choose this one."
The Shinigami growled. It was a horrifying noise. Then He slumped back into His chair, visibly showing His annoyance.
"Very well. Now, your name. I will give you one."
"How? There's no way I can just show up as a baby with a name. That'd be way too suspicious, dontcha think?"
"I would explain if you didn't interrupt me, you insolent human."
Brad groaned and slouched back in his chair. Smartly, he chose not to retort.
"You will be an orphan. They will call you Nanashi, a name given to children who have none. It would normally mean 'No Name.' Such is not the case for you. You will know the truth. Your name is now Nanashi, 七死."
The kanji swirled into the air in a pitch fog as the Shinigami spoke the name.
"The real meaning of your name is Seven Deaths. I'll let you figure out why on your own."
The room began to fade around Nanashi.
"One more thing, before you go. There is a clan that has a relic that allows them to control a part of me. It annoys me. You will be one of them, and you will destroy that entire damned shrine."
The last thing Nanashi saw was the wicked grin of Death. He raised His hand and gave a twisted imitation of a wave.
"Farewell for now. Do enjoy your stay."
Then, everything faded to black.
With the human gone, Death sat back in His chair, scrutinizing the card that Nanashi had chosen. Really, of all the great boons that could have been granted, the foolish mortal had gone and chose one that He had made on a whim. Honestly, the drawback of the power would have no real effect on this particular human. He grumbled and tossed the card onto the table before floating away.
Inebriation will increase your skills exponentially, but you will live a constant thirst for alcohol.
The world the human knew and the one He controlled the end of were just a little different, to say the least.
Oh well. At least this way, things would be more interesting.
AN: I'll update this in like 9 years. I have several terabytes of Love Live content to listen to/watch.
Special thanks to Sage Thrasher and To Mockingbird for their help in my shitty AU worldbuilding and sub-par grammar.