Prologue
The world had to be turning my life, and now my death, into one big joke.
It couldn't of been a mere instant after my death, with me, standing over my blonde and bloody corpse, for me to be reborn. Like, literally reborn. Many people would be a like, 'well at least you get to live again?'. Like no. Fuck you.
I'm living the fucking dream right now. Shitting my pants. Learning how to get my chubby legs to start moving like some crippled little bitch.
But this story isn't about me literally shitting my own pants.
Now, death isn't so bad, what with my life being such a big bore. I was a medic, and I graduated with no remarkable skills other than being a very talented medic. My Chakra control was probably the only thing I could brag about, but sadly, I was never much of a fighter.
Ironically, I chose to be a medic because I had been afraid of death, and of fighting and the like. It wasn't really some noble need to help people or stop death. If it hadn't been for my sister's murder, I probably wouldn't of been a ninja at all. But when my sister died, all the pressure of going down the ninja path fell on the next born. So going into the academy hadn't really been a choice, since my parents practically forced me.
If I could be reincarnated, at one time I would have wanted to open a bakery and maybe get married. I had always dreamed of such things in my life as Kazama Misaki. It had been my life's goal, but then my teachers found out about my innate ability for healing, which was rare among academy students and thusly pushed me into IryĆ-Ninjutsu.
I had begun to think I just wasn't meant for making my own choices in life.
I still remember my hands, glowing green over the crippled body of my fallen teammate. I still remember the fear, hastening my touch. I remember looking towards the forest as the sound of footsteps, crunching fallen leaves, scurried around the clearing.
I remember the adrenaline, making my heart pound into my chest and echo through my head. "Don't you dare die!" I ordered, looking down at Hikaru, who slightly smiled at my tone.
"You have to run," he whispered, almost harsh as he spat up blood. He could barely speak, and the hole in his lung was beginning to fill with blood.
I felt my eyes begin to tear up, frozen in my place. "I won't make it far. You'll have to help me." I said urgently, still attempting to close the wound. He glanced at my shaking hands, and his palm weakly cupped my own.
"This isn't..." He coughed again. "Your fault."
"You took the hit for me...of course it's my fault," I replied, feeling my tears restricting my ability to talk. The salty liquid had begun to suffocate me.
"Misa...ki..." His eyes were wide, and he shoved me out of the way, the last of his strength leaving him. In the place of where my body was, a blade shot through the air, cracking into his skull.
His blood splattered against my face, my eyes wide as my bloody hands, that had been pressing against his wound, drifted to my face as the crazed eye of his killer darted to me. She was drenched in the blood of my fallen teammates, and her orange hair was scattered and messy. Her right eye was covered in bandages, making her look all the more daunting.
"H-Hikaru," I felt myself stutter out, just as she removed her katana from his skull. The sound of the slushing of blood and brains made me want to vomit, but fear (and palm pressed up against my lips while my other shook in a tight grip on the grass) kept it at bay as she draped the bloodied blade over her shoulder.
"Don't scream, little girl," the woman whispered, oddly calm, and was in front of me in an instant, her speed rendering me speechless. "I love the silence." She murmured, her face was warped, like that of a demon and her one eye that was showing was glowing red with Chakra. Her fingers, thin and nimble, tore off the bandages around her eye. Her other eyelid was open, and black, sucking in my gaze and my voice and everything that had once been Misaki Kazama. The Chakra was radiating off her and I found myself staring into her gaping black void of an eye, that was swirling with a dark Chakra.
I screamed and I saw her face warp into annoyance before she gave me a wide, Cheshire cat grin and her fingers tore into my throat and ripped out my tongue.
And this is how I died.
As the darkness drifted around me, I didn't feel anything. Not the fear nor the pain. I couldn't see anything but the blackness of nothing. Was this death? An endless stream of nothingness? I couldn't even bring myself to care.
And that was when I heard the voice, echoing into my ear.
"Do you want to die, girl?" The voice was mechanical, neither male nor female, but deep and almost demonic.
I found myself at a loss, in between yes and no. "I don't like Misaki Kazama..." I finally said, my voice free of emotion. "She was stupid and weak."
The voice chuckled into my ear.
"Is that so? Do you wish to be strong, girl?" The voice asked, and I shrugged, having no feeling in my mind.
"I don't care." I stated, and I felt as if the darkness was staring at me. As if I was in the belly of a monster and it was all just looking at me.
The voice laughed, and it sounded like nothing I had ever heard before. "What do you want?"
"..." I was silent, almost thinking. "I want to be important...more than a memory. Misaki will be forgotten...I don't want that. I don't want to be afraid of anything...ever again nor do I want to be haunted by memories. I don't want to die, weak and cowering in tears. I want more than strength...I want everyone to memories, while I stand and shower in power."
"There are so many memories in life."
"Memories fade over time...I don't want to fade along with them."
"Quite the ambition for a dead girl."
"Fuck you." I retorted, but there wasn't much emotion in my comment and I heard the voice laugh again.
"I hope you don't come to detest your inner desire, dead girl. I will enjoy watching your desires play out...lets hope we don't meet again, dead girl..." The voice said, and almost sounded like it was fading toward the end or my hearing was fading. I wasn't sure which.
But after that I don't know what was going on. All I knew was that it was sticky and too warm and I couldn't breath and it smelled.
I remember crying, with such a high pitched, siren sound that I wanted to die...again. I remember feeling cold and the world was black and I was being passed around.
Not many people could say they remembered their own birth, and I think there is a reason for that.
It fucking sucks.
