I really am sorry for the delay, guys. As I mentioned in my author's note for the prologue, chapter one is kind of long, and I had some trouble slogging through writing the beginning. Also, I'm sure it didn't help that I was simultaneously writing the longest one-shot in history. Seriously. Okay, maybe not, but it's definitely the longest one I've ever written. That's also for Naruto, and I plan on putting it up tomorrow, (well, it might technically be later today now) so please, feel free to take a look at that too, if you'd like. Anyway, onto the story!

Chapter One

For the sake of accuracy, Bobby's death and mine weren't identical. His problem was with his lungs, and mine was with my heart.

I was born with neonatal lupus. Which sounds like an awfully repetitive sentence to me, but I've gotten so many wide-eyed, 'What does neonatal mean?'s that I've bent to society's general lack of basic medical knowledge.

Anyway, this type of lupus is passed on from the mother… So the best we could figure is that my mother must also have some sort of autoimmune disorder whose symptoms have still, to this day, not shown its face. Now, under normal circumstances, the symptoms of neonatal lupus disappear within a few months of birth. Sounds too easy, doesn't it? Of course, I had to go and complicate things.

To start, I was born without a spleen. Doesn't sound too major, right? Most of you probably don't even know what the spleen does.

But I'm trying to keep things simple here. Long story short, it's not absolutely necessary to have one, but not having a spleen generally makes it harder to do things like fight off infection or recover from surgery.

All this is pretty minor. Now we get to the tricky stuff…

Soon after the lupus symptoms went away and my parents thought I was in the clear, I started having other problems. So my baby self was carted off to the hospital yet again… where the doctors diagnosed me with having an atrioventricular block. And things just went downhill from there.

The best course of action would have been to implant a pacemaker. Unfortunately, the doctor in charge, who has always come off as overly cautious to me, vetoed this.

A few of my lifelong problems include irregular heartbeat, bad circulation, and being chronically underweight. Taking all this into consideration, on top of my missing spleen, my doctors decided that my chances of recovering from surgery were less than good. Even if my body reacted well to being cut open and sewn back shut, it was just as likely that I could be done in by an infection while recovering.

After determining that my heart hadn't fully developed while inside the womb, they tried to bring up its efficiency with steroids… which they promptly discovered I was allergic to. Along with half a dozen other medications.

With essentially nothing that could be done for my heart, my prognosis wasn't good. We were basically just waiting for my heart to fail.

Extremely long story short, I was a medical nightmare.

…

You know how most little kids think they're invincible? I never had that luxury.

My parents were paranoid, but not without reason. I guess spending fifteen years just waiting for your daughter to die can put a person on edge.

Anyway, they, too, were super cautious. There would be no sports or summer camps for me. It was hard enough to convince them to let me spend a night under constant supervision at a relative's house. After a really bad episode when I was nine, my mother wanted to homeschool me, but that's where I put my foot down.

I could understand and appreciate my parents' mindset, but I was getting the message loud and clear. Who knew how long I had left? I wanted to spend that time actually living.

Of course, my version of living didn't always add up to other people's definitions. My parents were desperate to keep me at home and in a constant state of relaxation. I won't pretend I wasn't spoiled. As a result, I had a pretty hefty collection of movies and books. But I won't pretend we weren't all lying to each other either—for our own peace of mind as much as anyone else's. My heart was just as likely to give out for good when I was sleeping as when I was doing any sort of strenuous exercise.

Maybe it's different when you're worrying about someone else, but when you're the one constantly being hovered over… Let me tell you, it gets old real fast. All my parents were concerned with was keeping me for as long as possible, doing whatever they had to in order to accomplish that. They didn't really understand the concept of quality before quantity.

…

Was I a spoiled little brat? Yeah, without a doubt. My parents were so paranoid about what the stress of your average childhood tantrum could do to my health, they never even pretended to put up a fight. Which wasn't a hard accommodation to make when they were already trying to give me everything I could ever want before I even had the chance to want it.

But it's not like I was totally self-absorbed. Especially as I got older, I spent a lot of time thinking about what would happen to my parents after my death. They'd spent so long with my health and happiness being their top—seemingly only—priority, I wasn't sure they even remembered how to live any other way. Whenever I pictured my household post-me, all I saw was the two of them sitting despondently in our darkened house until they eventually wasted away themselves.

I was nine—right after that 'really bad episode' I mentioned—the first time I brought up the subject of a younger sibling. My parents couldn't have been more shocked. I'm pretty sure this was also the first time they'd ever refused me anything I'd asked for.

This reaction was totally foreign to me and beyond frustrating. My parents spent the next few weeks showering me with gifts, assuring me that I was everything they could possibly want. But I was on a mission. I refused to let them appease me.

It is worth mentioning, though, that it was during this time that my dad brought home the first volume of a certain manga series. My dad had always been the best at distracting me. And I've always had a love for stories, particularly the ones with action-packed plots and superhuman protagonists. Predictably, the obsession with Naruto was immediate.

I won't lie. I know what really drew me to his character. I could give or take his sad backstory, encouraging determination, and humorous antics. I found the character himself to be kinda annoying, truth be told. But I practically lusted over his health and stamina. Demon or no, I would have given anything to have my own Nine-Tailed Fox.

Anyway. This distraction may have turned into a long-term love, but it didn't stall me for too long. I got back to work with my parents. Little did I know, my mom and dad could actually muster up a backbone when they wanted to. (God knows where they stored that thing the rest of the time.) This battle would last six more years.

They finally caved seven months ago. Up until then, I'd stubbornly played the lonely only child card—that they're company was great, but I needed another kid around. (Which had actually done wonders for my laughable social life. My parents had tried to compromise by allowing more playdates.) Of course, that excuse had gotten less and less believable as I survived year after year, widening the age gap between myself and my potential sibling. But I hadn't wanted to tell them the truth. They'd always seemed almost unnervingly fragile. But then, seven months ago, when my mother had yet again insisted that they wanted to focus all their attention on me, I'd finally snapped.

"Mom. I'm going to be dead someday. Possibly someday soon. I'm going to be dead, and you and Dad will be all alone. I don't want that. Seriously. Have another kid."

My mother's reaction couldn't have been worse if I'd physically hit her. But it couldn't be a coincidence that she was pregnant a few weeks later.

Right from the start, my parents were paranoid about this baby's health. For all their talk of me being the only thing they'd ever wanted, they sure were terrified about the possibility of their second child turning out like their first one.

But the odds really were in their favor. My mother had been young when they'd had me. And medicine had improved a lot since her first pregnancy. Even if there was something wrong with the new baby, they had a much better chance of catching it before it got serious.

But they needn't have worried. My unborn little brother had thus far managed to dodge every bullet that had struck me. The doctors had yet to find anything to suggest he wouldn't grow up to be one of the healthiest people this world has ever seen. Hallelujah. Mission accomplished.

…

For all my complaints of not being allowed to live my life to the fullest, I've never actually been all that reckless. When you can't even laugh too long or too hard before you're struck by this aching breathlessness, you become painfully aware (no pun intended) of your own limits.

Perhaps this is why I'd always been enticed by other people's adventures. I mean, I wasn't exactly complaining about the free pass out of every gym lesson all my classmates were forced to endure. But I hated having to feel like a total invalid when it wasn't even to the point where I was confined to my bed. So I lost myself in the grand endeavors of others, in fictional worlds.

But this day… This was my one chance at my own little rebellion. Who knew when, if ever, I'd get another chance?

I've always considered myself to be a realist, but I've always had a bit of a romantic side, too. Not the mushy, everyone's true love is out there somewhere kind of romantic. I'm talking about the side of me that's always been enthralled with the concept of life-changing quests and going out into the world to 'find' yourself. It seems like such a small thing, but I'd always wanted to walk home, like an anime character, just once. And now I finally had the opportunity.

My parents had grudgingly agreed to both be present at my mother's most recent appointment. (I was to call them the second I walked through the door.) So I ditched the bus and began heading in the direction of my house.

Like I said, even this wasn't really being reckless. We lived just a few streets from the school, and none of it was uphill. It was a nice day—no rain clouds in sight, not even so much as a breeze.

It was a nice feeling, a little thrilling. It felt like I was accomplishing something, childish as that sounds. My little journey went without a hitch… until I reached home, ironically enough.

I was just crossing my front yard when I felt the first twinges of pain in my chest. In a matter of seconds, those little pricks grew into full-blown blows. I tried to suck in air with little success. Black spots appeared in front of me, expanding until all I could see was darkness. A haze settled over my fading consciousness. The pain was still there, but it was dulled—somewhere in the background. But where was that? I couldn't form a coherent thought?

And then, as quickly as it had started, there was nothing.

…

I'd had enough close calls in the past fifteen years to know I was dying for real. Not even the most skillful doctor in the world would be able to resuscitate me this time. Which is why I couldn't understand what was happening when I felt myself waking up.

I could feel the cold, soft ground cushioning my face. I was cold all over, which I'd come to associate with being a natural part of almost dying. I didn't hear any of the commotion that usually concluded these episodes. Maybe my parents hadn't even made it home yet. Maybe no one had witnessed my most recent scrape with death but myself and whatever otherworldly, godlike power that had decided it wasn't my time. (Who I'd always imagined to sound quite a bit like Mufasa.)

You self-centered little fuck-up. No one on this side of things wants to be stuck with you just yet.

I took a breath, finally pushing myself up—Where the hell did my house go?!

I looked around frantically, but all I saw were trees in every direction. I hadn't noticed when I was on the ground, but I was in a forest so thick, there wasn't even a chance of sunlight filtering this far down.

I slowly got to my feet, but I couldn't think of any plausible way I could have gotten to this place. I mean, had I teleported here while unconscious? I couldn't even do that when I was awake! Had someone kidnapped my cold, oxygen-deprived body from my front yard and… what? Brought me out to the middle of a forest just to leave me here? I was in the middle of total wilderness, not chained up in some freak's basement.

The sound of paper rustling made me whirl around, and what I saw made me freeze.

What was this? Was I dead after all? Because I was pretty damn sure we didn't have fairies in the living world. Not real ones, anyway.

The thing looked like a tiny human girl, but not at all thin and graceful like artists tend to depict them. This one looked more like a cherub of sorts, chubby and childlike. It had blue eyes and bright orange hair, pinned up in two buns—one on either side of its head. She (I suppose it really was more of a she) held a journalist's notebook in her hands. She was rifling through the pages—the sound that had caught my attention. But that's not where I was focusing now. Her dress was pure white and sort of resembled an old Greek toga. And spreading out from her back were two equally white, disproportionately large wings. Though I'm not sure how exactly that worked. Her wings were still, but she was hovering in the air effortlessly.

"Ah!" she exclaimed, eyes sparkling as she finally looked up. "Found you! Connie Velick."

"Levick," I corrected, not really caring that I had destroyed the proud glow in her eyes. "Why does some pixie have my name in a notebook?"

She pouted indignantly, balling her fat little fingers into fists. "I'm not a pixie! I'm an angel! Your guardian angel, to be exact. You can call me Angie."

I wanted to raise a skeptical eyebrow but felt the breath knocked out of me again before I could. Guardian angel?

"So…" I said softly. "I did die?"

Angie nodded, and I staggered a few feet away and propped myself up against a tree. I was drowning in images of my parents coming home to find my body in the yard. I thought of the little brother I wouldn't get to know. Oh shit! What if Mom went into premature labor at the shock of finding me? I'd wanted to at least make it to my brother's birth for that very reason. Why couldn't I have just died at school or something? At least then my parents would have some sort of authority figure around to soften the blow.

"I'm very sorry for your loss," Angie said, sounding very rehearsed.

It was almost enough to make me laugh. I never thought I'd have to hear that after losing my own life.

"Fifteen years… Not such a bad run, I guess…" I murmured, trying to pull myself together. I took a deep breath and pushed away from the tree. I had to deal with whatever came next right now. I could grieve for my parents later. (What a backwards thought!)

"So is this the afterlife?" I asked Angie. "Do I have to go meet the ruler of this place and have my fate determined or something?"

"No…" Angie seemed nervous all of a sudden, practically hiding behind her notebook. "This is a forest within Konoha…"

I blinked at her. "Uh, what?"

"You know…" she said meekly. "Konohagakure?"

"The land where Naruto takes place?"

"Uh-huh…"

"What?"

"W-Well… You wanted to be reincarnated. So that's what I did…" Her voice was getting progressively quieter.

"Is this some kind of joke?"

Angie looked like she was waiting for me to explode, and I didn't disappoint.

"That's… That's… That's total bullshit! This isn't how reincarnation works! I'm supposed to be reborn! With—With no memory of my past life. It's supposed to be a fresh start!"

"I tried, okay?!" Angie screamed back, immediately becoming flustered when I lost it. "It was my first time! I've never been in charge of a newly arrived soul before!"

"Are you fucking kidding me?!" Angie was on the verge of tears, and I know I was starting to sound hysterical. "Make it right! Goddammit, make it right!"

"I can't!" she tried, again, to tell me, but I could barely hear her over my own screams.

"I didn't spend my whole life waiting to die just to get fucked over in the afterlife! Fix it!"

Angie was sniffing, looking pitiful and guilty, and I didn't care. How dare she feel sorry for herself? If anyone should be crying, it should have been me.

"I can't fix it," she whispered. "I'm sorry."

The worst excuse for a guardian angel in history dissolved into sobs, and I collapsed on the ground.

"So what now?" I demanded, my anger still blatant. "Do we just wait until I die again? Eaten by a wild animal, maybe? Or of exposure out here, in the middle of fucking nowhere?"

Angie sniffed, wiping away her tears. "I think I can fix that."

I wanted to tell her No thanks; you've done enough already, but she was already holding up her hands, which were glowing mystically.

I didn't get a chance to ask her what she was doing before my world went black again.

Review please!

I don't own Naruto. Only my OCs. (I have quite a few of them, I realized…)

Thank you Littlebirdd and Uzumaki-Demon for reviewing the prologue!