Gamesmanship: Rebirth

Summary:games are troublesome. I can recall the time when I had a GAME OVER. I can recall the time i had a RESTART. Perhaps I need a reset button. I am Haru. My resolve? To survive all the levels. SI Miura Haru

Acceptance is tenatively approached, and fate too far deep to explain in a sentence.

I had died, and it was not tragic, nor was it remotely heroic in any sense. In my mind it was fitting for a person like me. A person like me? You ask. I was a good little girl, quiet and polite, but I was very selfish. I had locked myself up in my room to listen to meaningless music, completely cut off from the world.

My parents went away on business trips, leaving me alone with money for months;which I wasted on merchandise to fuel my addiction to Japanese culture and imagery. It amazed me how they could speak the topic of death so freely, without being shunned of mental health. They could talk of the heaviest topics and subject them to the media with no objections. The addiction of anime and the culture should play to the topic of my death.

How I died?

It was the hottest day of the summer, the fans working magic on my pale, sickly skin. My eyes had unhealthy sleepless bags and my hands shook with the fuel of sugar from the large bottle of Mountain Dew. It's cap was loosely screwed on, a drip of liquid sliding from the top.

A bag of chips was carelessly stewn on the bed, overturned.

I drifted in and out of conscious as I glazed over the screen. Lethargic, repetitive tapping sounded as my fingers skimmed over the keys trying to synchronize with my inattentive mind.

The game went on and on as I tried to level up, from the hasty tapping of the space bar.

RPG.

A guilty pleasure.

I groaned audibly as black spots began to rot my vision and the high quality graphics began to look blurry. It pricked my brainpainfully, feeling tiny needles pinprick my head. A migraine was forming.

I rubbed my temples as I tried to press the headaches away from my thoughts, focusing solely on the game at hand.

My nose became runny in the meanwhile, as I tried to avoid the blaring screen of GAME OVER. Alas it was not to be. I cursed as beeping sounded, my temples thumping in discomfort . I jumped from my seat flailing for the handle of the headphones, ripping them from my ears in sheer horror.

In the process of removing the godforsaken suffocation devices, I had knocked the bottle of soda down, sending it to the poor keyboard. The liquid was poured into he crevices of the keys as I screamed bloody murder. I hastily swiped with a forgotten tissue, praying to whatever god that existed. My eyes were filled with tears as I sobbed hoping my life line had not died. God forbid she ever experience the outside again.

I grappled the plug that was connected to the outlet.

It had no child safety.

And my hands were drenched in sticky soda.

Hot fire pain sprung up my arm as I flailed my arms in horror as I jerked and jerked from the pure, blunt hot pain. It hurt so much, I wanted to die so bad. My hand could not pull away as if a magnetic pull was drawing me to it. I wanted to DIE.

I got my wish.

My eyes jerked shut as I was greeted into the bliss of darkness.

When had awoken, I was greeted by pink, pink flesh that had suffocated me from all sides. Horror sprung through my veins. Muffled voices pierced my blissful silence as I began to kick. I wanted out.

Discomfort began to fill my thoughts as a loud booming voice pierced the flesh.

It was warm and lively, but felt eerie in a sense.

Maybe I was not used to it.

A softer, quieter voice poured into the silence. I felt utter peace just listening to the echoes, pressing to the area of the voice.

It felt like years, being subjected to those two, kind voices. A loud yet muffled scream pierced the air one day as I felt myself loosening from the flesh. I clawed away, almost horrified to leave the comfort of the soft, pink haven.

AsI heard the soft calling, I took my first breath relishing the taste of pure air.

Until I began to wail uncontrollably.

I stared at my self reflection, mesmerized by the sheer foreign features.

My eyes were doe like, its hue a chocolate brown while my lashes were long and full. The hair was an unruly brown, straightening out at the tips in a solid black. My chubby, child like cheeks were puffed out, my lips pursed poutily.

I looked American at the least, completely parallel of my heritage.

My name is Miura Haru.

My mother is Miura Sana.

My father is Miura Kodato.

I don't know how all of this happened. I was supposed to he dead.(you know, in the grave;six feet under:RIP)

The idea itself was enthralling really- if you went past the fact that you evolved from another womans womb. You had a blank slate;a new life to enjoy. Alas I am Miura Haru. A girl indirectly involved with the definition of danger. Seriously, I had a crush on Tsunayoshi Sawada! He was the next future boss of the strongest mafia in the world. DANGER in capital letters! The least I could enjoy was the Daily Life arc.

At least the main plot would be FAR away from now.

i could enjoy my baby stages for now.

OvO

"Haru, could you sit here for me?" My mother chided, patting the sleek black cushion of the piano chair.

I was 7 now, thriving. I had chose not to lock myself up in my room to save my new parents of the troubles. In fact, they were newlyweds. It was sweet how they stayed passive and perseverant to my little quirks here and there. They were endearing. I understand how Haru was so annoyingly sweet and childish. The couple was the sheer definition of 'optimism'.

Sana called me as she brushed her long, graceful fingers along the white keys.

"Haru, would you like to play the piano?" She began to press the keys, enlightening me with a rich ballad of Moonlight Sonata. She simply glided over the piano, the tone rich as silk.

She must have recently tuned it.

"You can refuse as well, piano is a bit of a burden," She reassured. Her voice melded with the melody, slipping inbetween the notes.

Canon never mentioned Haru persuing the hobby of music, so she must have refused the offer. it was a shame really, so much potential; I felt my fingers twitch in anticipation as I slid into the seat with my mother.

"I'll try," I chided.

I'll gladly break canon to learn this.

Authors Note- Hello, this is my first Self Insert.

I have read Kyoko, and many other popular fics. I was figuring why not? It would pretty bad ass to get a bunch of reviews.

I hope you try reading this, follow, favorite and most of all REVIEW.

Studies have shown writers build esteem from reader feedback, so WHY NOT!?