Death doesn't discriminate
Between the sinners
And the saints
It takes and it takes and it takes
And we keep living anyway
We rise and we fall
And we break
And we make our mistakes
And if there's a reason I'm still alive
When everyone who loves me has died
I'm willing to wait for it
I'm willing to wait for it

- Wait For It, Hamilton Soundtrack

I'd always wanted adventure, off in the great wide somewhere.

(Was that a song? It sounded like it was from a song)

I think most people do. You grow up reading and watching these fantastic stories of sword fights and quests and romance and you think 'I want that. I'll be that.' You think you'll grow up and make some kind of mark on the world.

Then you do grow up. And reality sinks in. Actually doing things requires money, and getting money requires a job that eats up almost all of your time that you wanted to be spending on your adventure; you can't really take time off, either, because that means losing money. And that money needs to be used on other, more important things like food and rent and your medical bills when you get a migraine for the first time and whole-heartedly believe you're having a stroke or something and rush to the hospital only to find out you're a moron who just needs to invest in a pair of sunglasses.

Not that I'd know anything about that last part, of course.

But I digress.

The fact of the matter is, we're not really special, not in the great grand scheme of things. At the age of 25 I'd resigned myself to this fact and learned to do the best with what I had anyway, managing to find contentment in knowing that at the very least my life was stable and I had a couple close friends and enough money to remain content.

You know, until I died. Which was really unfortunate and honestly a little rude of the universe, especially since it had happened with no warning. Even worse was the fact that it had dragged my poor friends along for the ride.

("It" I say, as if fate or destiny or whatever was responsible was some coherent, intelligent thing that had consciously made the decision to kill me like it was getting back at me for some transgression I didn't remember.)

(Honestly, I wasn't sure my friends ever truly forgave me for this, but it's too late to ask them now.)

Reincarnation was a weird thing. I believed in it, sure, but I never heard of someone holding onto past-life memories as long as I or my friends had. On all the research I had done, in my previous life, most kids forgot those memories by the time they were around 5 or 6 I think- sometimes younger, sometimes older. Still, the memories didn't stick. But mine did.

I think that's why I'm writing this now, you know? I'm getting old-really old. Old as balls.

(I can hear the groans from my friends now at referencing a meme. "Really? Seriously? Now? You loser." And it both makes me laugh and makes my heart ache that they're not around anymore to appreciate my bad jokes. Nostalgia can be a terrible thing.)

The memories are starting to get fuzzy and i don't want that. I never truly told anyone, not my husband or my team or my family. No one knew the whole truth, or hell, even part of it. So this is where I set the record straight so my children and husband will know after I pass.

It's cowardly, I know. I should tell everyone now, but for all my heroic deeds I am at heart a coward. I don't like the confrontation, I don't like disappointing. I don't want to face the rage and disbelief and broken trust that will come from everyone knowing I knew so much and did so little to stop it all. I regret that, I'll always regret that- But I guess this is like a confession. It won't ease anyone's hearts but my own. It's cowardly. It's selfish. And I'm doing it anyhow. Maybe by the time I meet everyone on the other side they'll have found it in them to forgive me, or maybe this will give them some level of understand or who I was, who I am, and who I've become.

Or maybe I'm just trying to justify this all.

Ah, well. I won't ask you to forgive me then. Understand, maybe. Just try to understand.

Now, it's time to start stalling. Where to begin? The beginning, I suppose. Back to before I was the "me" you know now.

I don't remember my old name.

That's a terrible way to start, I know, but I really don't. I think it started with a "K"? I don't remember. Sorry. Let's just say it was... Kara. Sure, let's go with that.

My name was (maybe) Kara and I lived in another world.

(This is possibly where you put these scrolls down and look to the next person and go, 'ah, mother really went senile in her old age, huh?' and this is also probably the part where my spirit reaches through the veil by sheer force of aggravation to smack you upside the head and tell you to keep reading.)

I lived in a place called America, in a small town in a state I won't bother mentioning because these are words that mean nothing to you. Ninja didn't exist here. I was perfectly normal and nondescript in most ways-I had pretty hair and pretty eyes, which was about as far as I went when someone asked what I liked, physically, about myself. I was 25 at the time of my death and rebirth and I was a nerd. I was! There was no use denying it or trying to be ashamed by what was true.

I worked at a daycare with infants and toddlers and just lived my life day-to-day, never really striving to one goal or another. I didn't have the motivation or the care. I was content.

And oh how I'd grow to hate that word and everything that came with it.

But yes, this is a good place to start.

"Sleeping Beauty's at it again."

The words muttered under her coworker's breath had me glancing away from the baby in my arms, sucking hungrily on the nipple of a bottle, over the half-wall that separated the toddler and infant rooms from each other. I located 'Sleeping Beauty' quickly enough, for she was standing up and living up to her nickname- She was somehow managing to doze there despite standing, and utterly despite her duties as a caretaker.

Not that I could say much, you know? It was hard to stay awake during nap time when the kids were asleep and soft music was playing, and hard to stay awake when feeding the babies. Even I'd closed my eyes for a minute or two with a baby in my arms, but never actually fallen asleep. 'Sleeping Beauty' managed to do it all the time, however, and despite numerous complaints she'd yet to be fired.

My gaze shifted to Randi, the other infants teacher, and we shared an exasperated look. I rolled my eyes and shook my head, sitting up a little in my chair. The sudden irresponsible behavior suddenly had me wanting to seem more reliable.

"Liam, don't do that!' I shouted, despite not being able to see anything the toddler was doing voer the wall. He gave a shriek anyway at suddenly hearing his name and 'Sleeping Beauty' jerked in surprise, opening her eyes to stare down at the three toddlers who were playing on the carpet in front of her.

"Liam's fine." She answered automatically, and I hummed noncommittally.

"It's Liam's fault." Randi said instantly, and I grinned as I instantly replied: "It's always Liam's fault. Liam's the reason we can't have nice things."

The two of us shared a look again and burst into snickers at the old inside joke, though my laughter caused a disturbance in the force- Or rather, in the baby in my arms.

"Ah, shi- Poopie." I hurriedly corrected myself, wiggling the bottle futilely in the screaming baby's mouth. "Shhh, shh! Camden, come on, don't be ridiculous- Jesus, I'm putting you outside." I grumbled as the cries reached a fever pitch.

This was how I spent my weekdays. I was a professional butt-wiper and dutifully made animal sounds at toddlers to hear them say it back or to babble about my nonsensically in a language I couldn't pretend to understand. At night and on weekends I... Well, I didn't really do anything. I was tired and just wanted to rest, you know? Once in a while coworkers or friends might ask me to hang out, but in general I declined- For the most part they'd learned to stop asking, but some would still extend a courtesy invite. Sometimes I even accepted.

But mostly I stayed at home. I scrolled tumblr, I read fics, I watch shows. "Nerd stuff."

The day wore on until finally, at 5:30, I picked myself up off the floor and brushed my pants off. "I'll see you later, Randi." I waved to the remaining teacher-poor thing still had half an hour left before the daycare closed and she could leave, but with the number of kids dropping rapidly as their parents picked up, there was no reason to keep the full staff on.

"Kalah!" My name was difficult for the toddlers to say, and the boy in front of me made a distressed noise, arms up in the air. "KALAH!" He all but shrieked and I winced, reaching down to hoist him up.

"I gotta go, okay? I gotta go home."

"Kalah." The boy pouted and wrapped his arms around my neck. I rolled my eyes a little, completely charmed, and gave him a squeeze.

"I gotta go," I repeated, putting the boy down and pausing to see if he'd demand another hug or 50 before I left. Instead he seemed to consider this and say, rather dejectedly, "Bye Kalah..." Like, somehow, I was betraying him by leaving.

Little shit, I thought affectionately as he brought his hand up and blew me a kiss.

It's a little sad to think that was my last interaction with him. Even now that memory sticks out in my mind, his small body in my arms as I gave him a hug that seemed like just one goodbye hug out of the millions I'd given him before. I just didn't know it'd be so final.

I waved a goodbye to the remaining teachers and parroted back the typical goodbyes and 'see you tomorrow!'s as I walked to my car, checking my texts. It had taken a good week to convince my two friends to come with me for a dinner together, all three of us. Not because we were busy- we were, but all of us had jobs that ended by 5 or 5:30, so meeting up for dinner wasn't much of a problem. The problem was that Jessie and Rosie hated each other.

Ironic, considering who they'd later be reborn as.

They couldn't stand each other and I was the only connection between them; fortunately they were willing to put their differences aside to celebrate my birthday, even if it was a few weeks late due to a need to save up the money necessary for a big night out.

I got into my car and pulled up to the road, squinting at the oncoming cars. Was it safe to go? I was terrible at judging distances with headlights, but I was pretty sure-

In the cupholder my phone vibrated and i grabbed it absently, glancing at it as I hit the gas.

Yeah, I know. That was stupid. Not the first an certainly not the last stupid thing I ever did- Well, I suppose, in a way, it was the last stupid thing I did. In that world, at least. I knew better, I truly did, but it had happened anyhow. Mistakes, you know? I didn't know it was going to go so...

I don't want to say "Wrong." I don't view any of this as a "Wrong Choice," though I'm certain fate or whatever could have picked someone much better suited than me and my friends. But maybe that was the point. There's some quote somewhere about how everything happens for a reason, that the great aren't chosen, the chosen become great or some bullshit like that. I think, maybe, this was one of those situations. We weren't chosen because we were already great; we were chosen because we had the potential to become.

Or maybe Fate was just really, really bored.

Either way, it happened. The three of us- Me, Jessie, and Rosie- died that night at pretty much the same time and were reborn, thankfully, at around the same time as well.

Kinda strange how that year Konoha had a strangely high number of twins born, huh?

"Kara" was the old me. I suppose she's not worth talking about as much, you'll learn more about her as I go on, because I could never fully separate the person I was from the person I became.

Inuzuka Shippo, after all, was-is- anything but ordinary.