Hello. Just a note to day that this is also part of my SI/OC series I mentioned in my Naruto fic. This one will be in more of a drabble style as I think it fits the style of KHR more than if they were longer chapters. And also because its been awhile since I've read the manga and I need to do more research for each chapter.

Anyway, please enjoy the story.

chapter one:

Who knew determination equaled spontaneous combustion? Not me.

I have no elaborate words to start this story. I have no pretty quotes from some well known author or work. I don't have some metaphor or anything of the sort. I just have the truth.

I died, and then I lived again, but I remembered.

This is literally just about everything that you really need to know to really understand me. I remembered my past life. My death was unremarkable, an accident that could happen to anyone. You don't need the gorey details of how I died. Those details aren't important. What is important is that I died young with many, so many, regrets.

All that regret made my last life feel meaningless. It made it feel empty. It was hard to ignore, the vastness, the emptiness of my life. I was directionless. It felt like I was speeding down the road at a high speed with very little gas in the tank with no true destination in mind just the idea of where I would like to end. I just knew I was going in the wrong direction and now it was too late to turn around because I was already almost there. And everything I did now felt empty, shallow. It had no meaning. If it did I couldn't seem to find it.

I was twenty-six, there was three days until I graduated from the local community college. I was three days away from having a degree in a subject I ended up hating after years of study. It was too late to go back and choose something else. It felt like I was always too late with things like this.

In highschool I was always afraid. I was afraid of standing out. I was afraid to blend in. I was afraid to take chances, to make mistakes, to love something wholeheartedly. I was so afraid I forgot to really live. This fear followed me into college and I didn't see it until it was too late.

I was always too late.

Then I died, and that life of regrets should have died too, but I remembered. I remembered but I refused to live a life like that again. To be chained down by regrets and fear, to be directionless. I refused.

I would die again before I let myself be anything but free of those chains.

So now you know about my death, but this story is not about my death. It's about my life.

Again, I won't bore you with the gorey details of my rebirth. That was a terrifying experience even if newborn senses are absolute crap. It's not something I want to ever relive, even to tell this story. So I won't. The first six months of my new life were a blur, I don't really remember them as they were basically me sleeping, eating, crying or senselessly doing absolutely nothing. The next three months after that was me doing my best to adjust to my senses being normal and learning so much about my life that I wasn't aware of. Such things like the fact I was not born in America, or that I had a sibling that was not much older than me. Other than being much more aware of everything going on around me these three months of my life were much like the first six. The remaining time between my ninth month of life and my second year of life made me glad that despite having the memories of an adult I still learned things like a child. Slowly, but much quicker than it took me to learn spanish when I was twenty, I was learning to understand the now familiar language of my new home country. In this time I was able to learn that my sibling was a boy and he was only fifteen months older than me. I could already tell that I would adore him because well I sorta already did. I learned that my mother was young, as young as I was when I died, maybe younger. My father just as young but something about him felt even older. He was loud and big, both physically and metaphorically. He was goofy too, but under all of the grander he was ruthlessly smart, it was a little scary. Well, scary for those that would ever stand in his way. Of what, I wasn't sure, but I could already tell that my dad was apart of something more. Regardless of all this, I could tell he loved us very much. but I could tell we also made him sad. I wanted him to be happy, because already I loved my new family, no, my family more than anything else. Family is everything. My father and I are a lot alike, I think. I may have been a bit of an obvious daddy's girl.

To be honest I think everyone thought papa would be my first word. Even myself. My first word happened to be Tsu, which is the first syllables of my brother name. Which at the time i did not know, so when I heard it I tried to repeat it. Considering my brothers name is Tsunayoshi it was not meant to be. And thus my brother's most hated nickname was born. He would most likely forever be known as Tsu-kun.

The result of my first word? My mother squealed in happiness and made a comment to my brother about how I already looked up to him. My father burst into tears and made dramatics about my brother being the man in the house now. My brother, well he just patted me on the head and called me cute. I could already tell he would be the sane one in the family. Poor, poor Tsu-kun, destined to be the sane one. I can see it now, denial will be his greatest tool…

Anyway, I'm getting off track here. So I promised myself that I would not be chained down, that I would die before that happened, well who knew that determination would have such a fiery ending? I mean this literally.

You see, just after I turned three and my brother four my father had to leave for work. My father happens to work overseas, and for the first couple years of my brother and I's life he was able to work from home. Now though he could no longer do that, so he was leaving. I didn't want him to, and I said as much. But, doing so didn't have the effect I wanted it to. My father got a little sad but in the end he was still leaving. This eventually would lead me crying at the airport in my father arms shortly before he was to board his flight. Which I expect is pretty normal when a parent is going away for an unspecified amount of time when you are still a very young child. What isn't normal was bursting into purple flames when my mother went to pull me away from him.

Just let me take a minute to explain something to you. Despite being reborn, or I guess having the memories of my past life, I was still ultimately a little kid.

This is important for you to understand, because at that moment I was a little kid whose greatest desire was for my papa to stay. My inner monologue went something like this in that moment: papa, papa is leaving, papaisleaving, I don't want him to go, I DON'T WANT HIM TO GO, idontwanthimtogo, I will make him stay, I will die if he leaves, no, nope, not leaving, what the fuck do you think your doing mother, whatthefuckbitch, how dare you, PAPA, oh god pretty, what the fuck I'm on fire, holyshitiamonfire.

Let me tell you, if I died right here, I would hurt someone. Probably myself too, in the process of kicking butt, but still, people would be getting hurt. Luckily for everyone, or mostly me, I did not die. I freaked out a little, but hello spontaneous combustion anyone. Maybe I also cried a little, but again I am a child, mostly. You should be proud, at least I stayed conscious. Lets see you do better.

I feel like I may have lost you here. Let me give you a quick summary. I died, but then I was reborn, and I remembered. My old like sucked, my new life was great. New country, lovable parents, sweet older brother, what else do I need? Spontaneous combustion is a thing apparently. And now, here we are.

Moving forward with no regrets.