Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto. Unfortunately. Kishimoto does and he keeps killing off my favorite characters.
Summary: I died, as so many others did, before my time. Had I been able to, I would have seen my family and friends mourn my passing, and tell each other that I'd had so many years in front of me, how sweet a person I was, and wonder how such a thing could happen to me. But instead of moving on into death, I opened my eyes to find that not only was I sitting in a sewer, I was behind bars. And I wasn't alone.
Looking back on my life, I suppose that it had been better than most. Being born to a wealthy family with three older brothers certainly wasn't easy - what with the paparazzi practically stalking the family's every movement - and dating was a near impossibility, but it hadn't been bad.
My parents loved each other, and I had three best friends in my brothers, along side my two girlfriends from school who liked me for who I was, not for how much money I had. My grades in school were good enough to get me into a decent university where I chose a double major in Economics and Politics. My first two years were great. I made friends, joined the marching band and choir, and passed my classes with flying colors.
My third year, I rented an apartment close to school and my part time job as a waitress at the local bar. I paid for it with my three friends from college - one who worked at the same bar as a bartender to pay the bills while she worked towards her masters degree.
While the classes had become harder and harder to pass, I enjoyed it. There was no need for me to go to parties on the weekends - my shifts on Sunday and Monday nights during the professional football games were enough, not to mention the celebrations that the marching band had after a successful game. My friends became as close as sisters to me - something I'd never had and therefore was completely new to me.
My second eldest brother proposed to his girlfriend that spring, and the summer before my senior year, I found myself putting on a silver bridesmaid's dress and walking down the aisle with my third oldest brother. We'd grinned at each other before taking our designated places beside the bride and groom, but the message we conveyed to each other was clear - finally. It had taken six years of dating for the couple to tie the knot.
That night was a night I would never forget, and not because it was a wild party.
That was the night I died - at only 21 years old.
I should have known better than to walk back to the hotel room alone, but alas, such are the effects of enough alcohol to make you tipsy, but not quite drunk.
The hotel was only two blocks away, and I hadn't wished to bother my friends or family - well, those that were still somewhat conscious and coherent - who looked like they were having the time of their lives, so without telling anyone, I left.
You don't have to tell me that it was a stupid decision.
Long story short: about halfway there, I was jumped, dragged into a back alley, violated in every sense of the word, and then stabbed and left to die. It took all of maybe fifteen, twenty minutes.
In the moments before I died, I thought back to all of things I'd never done, and would never do. I'd never pulled the whipped cream prank on one of my sleeping older brothers. Nor had I ever really gotten drunk - not even on my twenty first birthday. I'd never finish college, though one could argue that all I had left were my generals since I'd put them off in favor of learning the interesting stuff first.
But I'd never get married, or raise a family. I'd never be a mother, an aunt, a grandmother. I'd never help my children with their homework, or read them bedtime stories. I wouldn't teach them to ride a bike, or hold them if they fell off and cried.
It was sad how much something I'd never really thought about meant so much to me now.
Still, even with the regrets I had, and the ending I was given, my life had been pretty good.
So I smiled one last smile, even as a blinding light flashed before darkness overwhelmed me and I fell into nothingness.