Chapter 1

Doshio?


The 'soul'.

The idea that we humans have a corporeal form, that represents who they are.

Throughout human society, man has always been obsessed with this concept; that they are more than just their flesh.

Entire civilizations and religions have sprung up over millennia with the idea that when you bite the dust, your magic 'spirit' will get to do all sorts of crazy shit. God damn, people can be pretty nuts.

I never had the most spiritual of upbringings. I think our family was given a Christian text when I was little, but I had a family of Buddhist immigrants, who found it a pain to use the English language. They also never told me about Buddhism, and if they did, I could neither understand their native tongue nor their attempts at English. I knew how to curse in native tongue though, that was nice.

Jeez, my parents never taught me anything. All the knowledge I've ever earned was out of quiet observations of others and years of contemplation. Many extreme cases of utter failure, as well.

Harsh bloody coughs snapped me back to reality. Fuck, why am I whining about my parents now? Those jerks are the last things I want to potentially think of, with these fucking bullet holes in my guts. The logical fucking conclusion of trying to be a hero in a city I don't know.

It's too painful to move. I might've been able to gurgle out to 911 for help if I didn't forget my disposable phone at the motel. Horrible short-term memory is fucking wonderful.

I slowly leaned my head back against the concrete wall I was resting on. Fuck it all, I'll just go to sleep. Make an all-or-nothing gamble just by not being conscious. I could wake up in a hospital bed, or my brain functions could cease forever and I'd stop existing.

Another bit of knowledge gained through intense failure.

I closed my eyes, preparing myself for sleep. Hm, I've slept without dreaming plenty of times before. Maybe dying is like that, without ever waking up. I'd really like something like that now.

I wish I could see what I'd look like if I reached any of the potential I had. I wish I had someone always there for me, to prop me up all those times I put myself down. I wish…

I wish I could just… have I knowledge I had now, when I thought I knew everything.

Hah, maybe I could have a second chance. It'd beat having some pearly gates or eternal hellfire waiting for me.

And those were the last thoughts I had.


I awoke to darkness, unable to move or even open my eyes. Despite this helplessness, there was an all-encompassing warmth and sense of security flowing throughout me.

I existed; that's all I did. It went on like this forever, and the only thing I could do was keep a tenuous grasp on my consciousness. I've completely lost any sense of time.

I am… okay with this. In terms of afterlifes this isn't half bad. Hah, who would've thought death would've been so tam- OH JESUS FUCK WHAT IS GOING ON WHERE AM I-


So. I'm pretty sure I was… born. Uh, it's pretty much the worst thing. Let's move on.

Okay, I was reincarnated (and apparently I ranked pretty low on the Karmic ladder to have to experience being literally born), and was a baby now. Shit, this is kinda what I wanted, but I didn't want to start over here. I didn't have any problems with myself as a baby. Who was hard on themselves when they were babies? 'Oh, how I wish I had just vomited just a little less on my mama when I was 4 months old!'

It took me a lot longer than I'd like to be a functional human being, as my barely functioning anatomy tried its hardest to just survive. Turns out, babies barely could! Once, I almost suffocated myself by just laying on my stomach!

The fact that they literally can't survive on their own is why babies cry all the time; so they could get someone to keep their stupid asses alive. I was pretty uncomfortable sure, but my adult mind found no reason to cry and bring attention to myself.

Thinking about it now, that might have been a contributing factor behind me being left at an orphanage.

I heard frequent shouting between a male and female who I assume were my parents, shattered dishware, typical dysfunctional-marriage stuff. I remained quiet, used to this kind of behavior in my previous life. The thing is, they weren't speaking in English. My experience being a huge nerd helped me recognize they were speaking Japanese. Was I reborn in Japan?

The first thing I saw as my eyes saw when they started working was by a woman, presumably my mother, wrapping me in a blanket, lifting me out of my crib, and leaving the house.

It was dark out, and with newborn eyes I could only make out vague shapes of trees and nature. She'd talked to people at I think was some sort of outpost, and we moved past gates into a more urban area.

Okay, okay, what the fuck? Who the hell takes their baby's out for midnight strolls? I was probably getting abandoned somewhere. Well… shit.

My mom stopped at some sort of building, I'm presuming it was some sort of orphanage. She leaned her head down to rub her cheek against mine. I noted the slight wetness.

She knocked the door, after placing a piece of paper in my coverings and leaving me at the doorstep.

On the paper was my 'name', 'Rin Kazama', and my birthday. I'd never heard 'Rin Kazama' ever said at my birth parents' home. My mother had severed all ties I had with my birth parent's legacy. I might have avoided having to grow up to deal with the circumstances of my birth, or a shitty home life. Maybe the orphan situation wherever I was was actually pretty good.

This was a real second chance.

So, thus began my life in a crowded orphanage. Great. All I could do as a baby is crawl around in my wooden prison of a crib and try and figure out the Japanese language. I also realized there would be no repercussions for my actions, because you really can't punish an infant.

Suckers got slobbered on, indiscriminately. People who treated me nicely, people who didn't, people who were having a good day, people that weren't. I was never atheltic in my past life, so I tried throwing shit at the caretakers who looked like the biggest jerks, and was pleasantly surprised I managed to bean them with a rattle once or twice(I cried until they returned my weapon of course, they were clearly at fault).

As a result, there would be the people hired to take care of the babies, edging across the walls of the room to get to other ones. Maximizing their distance from me was a wasted effort though. All they did was let me improve my throwing arm. When showing me off to new people they would call all the other babies 'Aka-chan'. They would only specifically refer to me as 'Ana-chan'.

I think I was gaining some notoriety. My ability to pick up swear words carried onto this life as well. One of my caretakers shouted "Ketsunoana!" as a gut reaction to a gumless nose bite.

I knew 'Aka-chan' meant baby, and I think 'Ana' meant hole. What word ending in 'hole' would someone shout out?

…They were calling me 'little asshole'! Those… justified fuckers! Alright, the next person to pick me up was getting the receiving end of the most sinister thing a baby could do.

I could feel a stranger being led into the room. Detecting people was a weird talent I'd picked up; I'm assuming I was just more sensitive to air current changes or smell in this body.

He picked me out of my crib and before I did that. I was sorry he was just a bystander, but I had to make an example of him. I was going to be the winner of this war you caretakers started! From now on, no mercy, no prisoners!

The stranger, who had me pressed against the flak vest he wore (what dork wears a tacticool outfit to an orphanage?), seemed bemused by my determined struggling against him. Before I could enact part two of my heartless scheme, I stopped as a cool sensation coursed through out me.

I couldn't describe it as a single idea, like any other sensation. It wasn't just cool, or refreshing. It was like… a bizarre form of nostalgia. A distinct set of emotions coupled with imagery. The sensation felt like the cool distance of a professional, yet it also gave the feeling of security from a parent; someone steadfast in the face of danger.

How the hell could someone invoke feelings from touch alone? Who was this guy?

I peered upwards to look at the man in question. He looked a lot older and tired than he probably was, as he looked back at me with a relieved expression. That wasn't the weirdest part though.

The weirdest part was what he was wearing on his forehead. It was a.. metal plated headband with a leaf engraved on it, from a Japanese cartoon I watched as a child. And instead of appropriately laughing at the Naruto cosplayer at an orphanage, this guy was being held at a high-esteem.

This guy… That wave of energy he seemed to flow into me… The outfits people wore… Everyone speaking Japanese… The fact that my rattle was a plastic throwing star…

I was in the Naruto-verse.

Oh god damn it I forgot everything about that crap!


A/N: Yes, 'Doshio' is the lamest chapter title ever. And the best I could come up with.

So, this is a total rewrite of Leaving Sunshine. I honestly felt way too derivative of Silver-Queen; and by not being myself I really didn't know how to progress.

Sorry about this guys, but I hope you still enjoy this terrible idea I had.