Disclaimer: This is not my sandbox. I'm just playing in it.

"Son of a bitch!" The words left my mouth in a yell but no one heard me. Everyone on the street was shouting and running to surround a body that lay on the concrete. Completely ignoring me having an existential crisis.

Well isn't this just a great big bag of dicks.' I found myself thinking as I stared morosely at the cadaver at my feet.

You would to. If it were you having a staring contest with your own dead body. (I think I was winning)

Y'know, I thought about my death all the time. Not really in a morbid way. More of a; Huh, I wonder what that will be like. I never imagined it would be so goddamned cliche.

A hysterical giggle bubbled up from my throat. I suddenly had the urge to poke my prone body with a stick. I always knew I was a little twisted but that's messed up man.

Who knew your own corpse could be so funny.

I guess you're wondering what death was like. Understandable, I suppose.

It's… instant and unforgiving. Like, the rug getting pulled out from under you and then you fall on a pile of tacks. Only less pleasant.

Oh? What was that? How did I die?

I wish it was more exciting and grand but we don't always get what we want now do we? I always wanted to go out with a bang, you know? Fire and brimstone style. Guns ablazin'. Not...this.

I had just... collapsed. No warning. Just makin' my way downtown, walkin' fast, and then, suddenly, I am watching my own body hit the ground with a god-awful thud.

I know now, as paramedics surround my body, that it was a brain aneurysm. A brain aneurysm.

I just died of a feckin stroke.

"God-dammit."

I just stood there, wondering what the hell I was supposed to do next. 'Maybe I'll haunt some people. That could be fun'. I was thinking of all the ways I could use my new found deadness when I felt the most peculiar sensation. A sort of tugging on my navel and then... nothing.

This is duuuuullll. Really this was it. The worst afterlife ever. I think I would have even prefered eternal damnation to this… whatever this was. It was completely dark and quiet and mind numbingly boring. I just kinda floated there in the Nothing. That's what I called it. The Nothing. Cause that's what it was. It was Nothing and I hated it.

I don't know how long I had been there. Could have been years, minutes or even millenia for all I knew.

Nothing changed and by that I mean, The Nothing changed. I was no longer floating. I was being squeezed out of something.

It was unpleasant.

I heard unpleasant screams (a woman's) and I was hit with an unpleasant cold.

What was this? This was new. I hadn't had new in a while. I liked new. New was good.

Nevermind.

I don't like new anymore because for whatever reason new mean't giant hands. Hands that were wrapping me up in something soft. Hands that were holding me. Giant hands that were attached to giant humans.

What.

Okay let's think about this for a minute. I assume that I am a baby. That means that I was just born.

Lovely.

Dammit. That means diapers. Diapers and breasts. Oh god.

Now the giant human (Although, I guess they were just regular sized) was making cooing noises at me. Saying 'Sakura-chan' to me over and over again.

I couldn't understand a word she was saying. Other than what I assume was my new name.

Oh, wait. I have eyes again. Might as well use them. (What a weird thought)

So I did.

The world around me was blurry and unnaturally bright. My eyes teared up a bit but I still did not make a sound.

The conversation around me turned to one of concern I bet they were wondering why I wasn't crying.

This was going to be interesting.

It wasn't. It was almost as boring as the Nothing and it was humiliating as well. I can now see why we never remember being babies. It was driving me crazy.

I still didn't cry and I knew that it worried my parents. Whenever I needed something I would just make different noises. Mommy and daddy #2 had taken me to the doctor a few times since my birth but from what I could tell they found nothing wrong.

Also, there was this… thing inside of me that was never there in part one. (that's what I'm calling my previous life.) It writhed under my skin like a caged rat. Scratching on my insides. I was constantly aware of it.

I could feel it in the people around me as well. Whenever my parents touched me. It was there. Just beneath their skin.

I kinda avoid skin to skin contact as much as I can now.

Thank god I was unconscious most of the time.

As I grew and my vision cleared, I noticed things. Strange knives left on the coffee table, How the world didn't have as much technology as my last and finally the shiny headband my new father wore.

I recognised it. I wish I didn't but I did. It was a Hitai-ate. From naruto.

Fun.

Oh you thought I was going to freak out? Exclaim about how unfair life was? Express my fear of dying in this unforgiving world of ninja?

Nah. That's dull. I already died once. Why would I really care if I did it again. I decided the moment I realized where I was that I was going to milk as much entertainment as I could while I was here. I am also going to get as powerful as possible.

I'm going to start on that last bit now.

At first all I did was sit and try to feel that thing inside of me. That I now knew was chakra. Poking and prodding it. No matter what I did, it wouldn't move where I desired. I kept at it though.

I had a lot of time on my hands after all.

I learned to speak the strange new language of my world fairly quickly. My young little brain absorbing everything like a sponge. There were still words I didn't know of course but I knew enough to hold small conversations.

Much to my parents surprise.

"I'm hungry." Had been my first words when I was eight months old. A little earlier than was accepted.

It came out clearly, as if I had been talking for longer than I had.

I had stayed up late at night all alone in my crib and I practiced sounds. At first. the muscles of my jaw and tongue had refused to work but after weeks of practice, I finally had it down.

My mother and father had been shocked. They had just stared at me and I stared back until my mother finally hopped up and prepared a bottle. (She thankfully prefered this method over breast feeding.)

Ever since then, she just stared at me. Like I was something unnatural. Like I scared her. I'll admit, it hurt. For a little while at least. I eventually got over it.

Good thing I did or what happened next would have hurt a lot more.