Note: So, this fic kind of leapt out of nowhere and, in a sudden bout of inspiration, I wrote a few chapters and thought up a nebulous long-term plot. It's another reincarnation Naruto OC fic, but definitely not a self-insert. Although, the protagonist is heavily influenced by a number of people I know in real life. Honestly, this story is purely self-indulgence, but I hope you enjoy it anyway. I welcome feedback and constructive criticism. Thanks!

Sponsor the Killer

i.

"This is your life and it's ending one minute at a time."

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The American education system does a decent job of warning kids about the dangers of drunk driving. Far before the young and innocent are even aware of alcohol's effects, teachers drill "don't drink and drive" into their minds. In high school, the message is blasted through Red Ribbon Weeks, field trips to the city court and ghastly videos that feature spilled intestines and half-peeled faces. And if the constant scare tactics and lectures weren't enough to convince you, the stories of dead students and tragic car accidents near the school from just a few years back were. So most people at my school were adamant about not drinking and driving; the one kid who made a habit of it was known to everyone, and not in a positive light. Yet even with all the dangers, the social stigma, and the resources like Uber made available to drunk teenagers, I still got behind the wheel one night, four shots in. Because, hey, if I could drive well high, I could definitely do it drunk, right?

And I was right, to a degree. Other than nearly swerving into a tree, I got home safely that night.

Only to be killed a drunk driver four days later. Instant karma's gonna get you.

So where does that leave me?

Well, honestly, I didn't end up too bad, other than the whole dying part. I guess that's why it's more instant karma than the long-term thing — you see, I was kind of an asshole in my previous life. With my circumstances, it was hard not to be: extremely privileged, a highly regarded athlete, recruited to an Ivy, had a hot girlfriend that I cheated on with three other girls, lots of drunken shenanigans, the works. I mean, I wasn't a bully or anything. I mostly tried my best to be nice to everyone. It was just the moral shit that didn't swing well with me. Cheating, lying, stealing, and of course, various sins against the church. So yeah, if long-term karma and God had their way, I probably would be in a way shittier situation than I am now.

As it is, things are pretty great. I'm reincarnated, still the same gender, and my new family seems to be fairly wealthy, if the thread count of the sheets in this crib are anything to go by. Yeah, the only part that isn't great is that I'm stuck in the body of a fucking infant.

"Blah, blah, blah," a sweet-faced lady, presumably my mother, coos as she scoops me up in her arms.

Also, I don't know Japanese. That blows.

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As it turns out, Japanese isn't a wildly difficult language to learn. It's far easier than Chinese, that's for sure, which I took for language credits with a few of my rugby buddies. I nearly got a D in that class both semesters. To this day, the only Chinese phrases I know are "Hello," "Thanks," "My name is," and "I'd like to order sweet and sour soup." Good shit.

Anyway, I'm not great at languages. Japanese isn't particularly hard, but it still took me a long-ass time to become fluent in. I only started fully comprehending it at 5, and that was with a lot of prior reading and writing practice. Like, a lot. Being a toddler is real dull. I didn't bother pretending to be engaged in stupid baby toys, and I sure as hell was not interested in playing with other gross children. There was no television around to occupy me, since apparently I was reborn into the feudal era or some crap, so I had nothing to do besides run around by myself, struggle through assorted Japanese books, and practice calligraphy. My parents, at least, were pleased with the latter two. They didn't appreciate my shunning of the other children, but they were satisfied with my affinity toward academics. Which, a bizarre 180 for me. But you try being stuck in a Japanese desertland without an iPhone or football in sight.

Speaking of parents, that sweet-faced lady from earlier? Not my mom. That woman is my governess, more or less. She tutors me, "plays" with me, and takes me around town. My actual mother is a frosty bitch who I have interacted with a total of 16 times for more than 2 minutes in the past 5 years. Besides breastfeeding. But I try to forget that period of my life.

My mother isn't a very nice lady (or at least not a very good maternal figure), and my father isn't much better. He's a politician of some sort, and has the stereotypical "firm, cold father with high expectations and not much else" thing down to a T. Since I'm the heir apparent of our mighty noble family, he's forced to interact with me a little more than my mother — mainly to give me lectures about the importance of upholding our family's name and honor, making connections with the right people, and whatever the fuck else. I tend to tune him out. I can't understand half of what he's saying most of the time anyway. Also, why is he saying all this to a small child in the first place? Are 5-year-olds expected to comprehend politics in this universe?

So, yeah, my relationship with my parents isn't great. I'd like to say this matters to me at all, but it really doesn't. I wasn't on great terms with my folks back in my previous life either. Can't say why. Teenage rebellion, all that jazz, maybe.

(Actually, I can say why. It's because they wanted the next Steve Jobs, and instead they ended up with a gorilla-brained jock who could barely scrape a B in Algebra II. And to that I say: fuck you Mom and Dad, I still got into Yale, and I could beat up Steve Jobs. If he wasn't, uh, dead from pancreatic cancer. God bless his soul.)

My governess, Rio, is the real homie. She's raised me, and is literally the nicest person I have ever met. Including my old girlfriend, who was so nice she forgave me for cheating on her. Or maybe she just had such low self-esteem that she clung onto our relationship for fear of never being able to do better. Which I probably didn't help by cheating on her again, and again, and again, and then persuading her to stay with me.

Eh. The past is the past. Back to the present.

I stopped the little recap session at age 5 for a reason, other than the fact that I'm finally fluent in Japanese and communication isn't a huge pain the ass anymore. Actually no. That's the only reason. This is a story told mostly in present tense, after all. It's not like I know what's going to happen.

So, set the scene. Rio and I are strolling through the streets of Sunagakure, my humble desert hometown. We're on our way to the park, and I'm cradling a custom-made football in my arms. I drew out the design a few weeks ago and requested it be made for my 5th birthday. Benefits of being rich.

"Could you explain the rules again, Kazuo-dono?" Rio asks, glancing curiously at the football for the umpteenth time.

"Eh, forget about the rules. There's only two of us, so we can't play the game anyway. Plus, there's no nice grassy field in this shriveled up ballsack of a city," I add under my breath. In English. I don't know how to say "ballsack" in Japanese yet.

"What will we do, then?"

"Play catch."

Rio blinks, surprised. "But you've never wanted to play catch before."

"Well, I never had a football before. Or a baseball. I should get one of those made too."

"Baseball? Oh, I've heard of that. It's more popular in other regions."

I stop abruptly in my tracks and stare at her. "Hold up. Baseball is a real sport here? You guys have — er, what I mean to say is … I could have been playing baseball this whole time?"

"You can still play, Kazuo-dono. We could order the necessary equipment," Rio offers kindly. She doesn't remark upon my strange slip, having gotten used to it by now. Yep, Rio isn't the sharpest knife in the drawer, which is another reason I like her. Plenty of other people probably would've picked up that something's very off about me, and that would be a huge pain in the ass.

I shake my head and continue our path to the park. "Ugh. Let's talk about it later, or I'm going to get bummed out thinking about all these wasted years reading books."

"Reading isn't a waste, Kazuo-dono," Rio says.

"Shhh. Yes. Yes it is."

We make it the rest of the way to the park without incident. I tell Rio to "go long," to which she makes a confused expression, so I elaborate that she should stand some distance away. She walks about 10 feet away.

"Further," I insist. 20 feet. "C'mon, go suuuper far." 30 feet. Good enough.

I actually have another goal for coming out here besides just playing catch. I'm going to test out my superpowers. Right, right, I sound insane. But for real, I'm 80 percent sure I have superhuman abilities. About a year ago, I started noticing an odd energy present in my core. It was like that curling warmth I sometimes felt in my abdomen while high, hot enough to be uncomfortable if you focused on it, but an otherwise unremarkable sensation. Except this wasn't just a mild hallucination. This was tangible. And if I really focused, did some zen meditation shit, I could feel that heat tingling throughout the rest of my body.

Upon making this discovery, I did what any self-respecting teenager stuck in a child's body would do: I tried to use this energy to move objects with my mind. Let's be real. Telekinesis is everyone's secret dream.

Unfortunately, that didn't work out. But after much trial and error, I found I could reverse-Spiderman things and make them stick to me, defying gravity. And if I concentrated energy to my muscles, it multiplied that area's strength by a fuckton. The thing is, I had only conducted these experiments when other people weren't around. So I'm not completely sure I'm not crazy — hence, football test. If little 5-year-old me can throw Stewie's head 30 feet to Riowhile doing the energy trick, I 100 percent have superpowers.

Fingers crossed.

"Fore!" I shout as I heave the ball in Rio's direction. The warmth wraps around my arm, then dissipates.

And the football flies about five feet, then bounces off sideways. I scuttle after it, cursing.

"Should I come closer…?" Rio calls politely.

"No!" to her. Then, in English, I mutter: "Just performance anxiety, man. A real mood-killer."

"What was that, Kazuo-dono?"

"Just be ready to catch."

Alright, here we go again. Concentrate that energy not just in your arm, but your shoulder and sides, too. I got this. I arrange my hand into the perfect grip. Or as close as my tiny hand can get. And then, the ball releases from my fingertips — holy shit.

The football soars into the air with the force of a thousand cannons and rockets straight past Rio, who, wide-eyed, whips her head around to watch its insane trajectory.

"Yes! Holy fuck, yes!" I cheer, eyes glued to my glorious success. But, wait. Oh no. The ball is hurtling straight toward another child, chilling by himself on the other side of the park. Oh god. I'm about to commit involuntary manslaughter via football. I scream frantically, "Fore! Fore, for the love of God, watch out!"

Luckily (for him, not for me), before the speedy leather object of doom can take off the boy's head, a wave of sand swoops up and crushes the ball into smithereens. I whimper. That was a quality football.

Rio, too, is whimpering, but it seems to be out of exaggerated fear rather than grief. And rather than going up to the kid and apologizing for her ward's actions like a responsible adult would, she hastily backs up until she's standing beside me. It's very unlike her.

"Kazuo-dono, we have to go now," she says, grabbing my wrist and beginning to bodily drag me out of the park.

"Whoa, wait a second. Shouldn't I, or you, or we, go say sorry to him? I did almost just destroy his face with that," I protest. Because hey, I'm a nice guy. I know when I'm in the wrong. Even if he did crush my football. With … sand superpowers? Man, are superpowers just a thing in this world? I guess I'm not that special after all.

"For your safety, we must leave. And quickly." And then she forces me to literally sprint away, because if I resisted she would have dislocated my fucking shoulder by pulling me along so forcefully.

"Ow, ow, okay lady, I'm running," I huff. As we go, I turn back over my shoulder and catch one last glimpse of the kid: a redhead with sickly pale skin and the deepest dark circles I have ever seen on a human being…

And suddenly, things click.

"Oh my god," I say, half out-of-breath. "I'm the biggest fucking idiot in the world."

I've been reborn into Naruto.

End note: I actually do know a football/baseball player who loves Naruto and cheated on his girlfriend with multiple girls at once, lol. Aside from the latter fact, he's quite nice.