Mortal cockroach, I implore you to leave me be.

To be implored by a god of death was an honour I never imagined I'd ever have. "I need someone to vent to, Enma-ō, and you're the only one who knows my situation."

You could tell someone in your life and spare me. He tapped a massive scroll he'd rolled out before himself, tracing undecipherable characters with a large finger.

I wandered onto his scroll and plopped down at the top edge. A gust of wind whipped at me when Enma sighed in contempt. "Telling these charac—these people what their future could hold doesn't seem like a good idea. All the movies advised against it, anyway…"

What good is it to expend such energy on temporary existences? He brushed me aside with a giant hand.

"Those temporary existences are my friends," I said insistently. "Of course I care about them."

Friends, you say? What makes them different from those you call friends who you have forgotten from your previous life?

His words stung more than I was willing to admit. "Who says I've forgotten them?" I snapped. "I just can't do anything about my situation in that world, but here, it's—it's different. I'm different, now. These are Futaba's friends." I wasn't sure if I was convincing him or myself.

You are not making any sense. Enma tapped the parchment with a brush as thick as a tree trunk.

"Listen, I know things, and when you know something it feels like you...should do something about it. But what if I did tell someone. They'd never believe me, right? Who in their right mind would believe me…"

You mortals and your trite definitions of what is believable amuse me greatly, Enma's voice reverberated. Nonetheless, I would appreciate it if you left me to my devices. There are infinite souls to sort.

Get lost, he was essentially saying. I frowned, falling onto my back and closing my eyes.

Fine, then I would.


Beep...beep...beep…

I was back in this stiff bed with starchy white sheets. Back in this world with technology and manga and careers that extended beyond 'professional assassin'.

Time seemed to pass differently between the two worlds. While years passed in my second life, mere weeks had passed in this one. I was still a teenager, and my parents still determinedly visited me regularly to check my status.

When I was here, it felt like everything from my other life was so far away, only as relevant and urgent as a particularly nasty nightmare would be. Memories of a comfortable, relatively stress-free life would overwrite memories of ninjutsu, chakra, and fire-breathing kids if I lingered for too long.

If I could sigh, I would, but whenever I was able to cross back into my body it was in a metaphysical state. I couldn't interact with anything—all I could do was listen. And think. This time, I didn't get much time to think. The door opened and a nurse strode in, accompanied by a host of guests, of varying heights and looks. They dispersed around my bed, looking down on me with faces that I used to know by heart but now were blurred in my memory. Friends. These were my real friends.

All I could think of was how there was one less person here today.


When I woke up, I let myself wake slowly, curling and uncurling my fingers one by one. The transition from being a floating, formless presence to having physical form again was disorienting and tended to leave me with a foul taste in my mouth.

Everyone in my old life was telling me to come back—how could I just sit there unable to tell them I couldn't? How was I supposed to stare my parents and friends in the eyes without them knowing and just watch them slowly lose hope for me? And I knew that slowly, they would stop coming. One by one—or maybe all at once—my visitors would decrease, until only my parents would remain and visit me every other month or so. It felt horrible to be forgotten in life, but to watch yourself be forgotten in death was undoubtedly worse.

It wasn't me that was forgetting them, they were the ones forgetting me. As always. I couldn't blame them, though. Had I been a very good friend to them in that life?

Was I a good friend in this one?

My hand reached for the walkie-talkie like it had a mind of its own. When I heard the buzz of an open channel, I finally snapped out of it. "Are you there?"

"—he—early," Shuu's voice crackled from the speaker a few beats later. "I'm about to go, are you ready?"

Shit, today was a school day! I sprang to my feet, an action that was accompanied by a heavy surge of vertigo. "Y-yeah, I'll be right there!" I slammed down the walkie-talkie and made a beeline for the bathroom.

My birthday gift was getting its money's worth, that was for sure. I used it almost every night to chat with Shuu and sometimes Kouko whenever she happened to be in the vicinity on his end. It reminded me of when I'd discovered the beauty of cell phones in my past life, and how my friends and I would sneakily talk to each other all night until the magic wore off.

As time passed and the snow melted, I continued to brainstorm answers to my most pressing questions.

Who was the hooded figure?

Right now, I had a shortlist of big baddies in Naruto that were or soon would become relevant to me: first up was Danzo, and second was Orochimaru. What made Danzo so threatening was his command over the morally dubious secret police, Root, and his shady connections. Orochimaru, on the other hand, was far more terrifying, but wouldn't come to realize his true ambitions for some time yet. I had time before he would become a real threat to anyone.

After putting aside the possibility that Waki had been the hooded figure, I'd briefly considered the possibility that Waki might be Root, but it was hard to match the image of a morally grey, merciless Root operative with that of the soft-spoken, herb-growing Waki. Then again, maybe that was the first requirement of being a member of the secret police—don't look the part. It wasn't like he'd be able to confirm it either way, what with the Root's seal of secrecy and all.

I was sure there were other villains, but I had blank spots in my memory that I couldn't attribute to the gallow-weed. Most major was the end of the Fourth Great Shinobi War.

I still didn't know how it all would end.

Putting that question aside, I still had another related issue to address. Why had the hooded figure's presence made me sick?

This one I truly came up blank on, and I felt like this represented one of my biggest problems in this universe: I didn't know enough about it. Shuu had taught me an embarrassing amount of information, especially considering my actual age. The only explanation I could think of was that I might have been subjected to a genjutsu without realizing it, but I didn't know enough about what genjutsu felt like or what could trigger falling into one to definitively pin it as the cause of my blackout that day.

Enma's words suddenly came to mind one day in late spring as I walked home with Shuu.

You could tell someone.

Could I? I'd told Shuu so, so many things and he'd just taken it all without flinching, but even he would have trouble believing that I somehow had a detailed record of the future.

Telling an adult like Imiki was out of the question—technically, I could be killed or 'disappeared' for knowing what I did, and Imiki was fully aware of that. The worst they could do to me was have me killed, and the second-worst was to milk me of all information I had before having me and everybody I was known to associate with killed.

That meant that telling Shuu could put him at risk in a different way if he were to blab to anyone else, but I wasn't sure how much longer I could go on pretending that I didn't know the things I did. Maybe Enma was right. Maybe the answer I had been looking for had been sitting in front of me all along.

Enma was a big oaf who had absolutely no understanding of human nature, but he was right about one thing—I was tired of being alone.

With that thought in mind, I turned to Shuu as we walked and cleared my throat nervously. "Shuu."

"Mm," he hummed in acknowledgement, focused on avoiding puddles with mixed levels of success. It was a safe day—pouring rain, but neither of us had thought to bring an umbrella in our collective stupidity, so we'd simply resigned ourselves to our fate and meandered at a leisurely pace.

There was no eloquent way to put this, was there? "I-I have something to tell you." I stopped walking.

Shuu finally gave me his attention, stopping a few paces in front of me. "What is it?"

"I…" I swallowed, feeling the urge to run away. No more running away, Asagiri. "First you gotta promise me you won't tell anyone."

"Doesn't that pretty much go without saying at this point?" Shuu drawled. "So secretive, Futaba."

"I'm serious."

The teasing undertone in his expression finally faded. He seemed to understand that this secret would be different from others. "Alright, fine. What's wrong?"

"As my best friend, will you believe me and stick by me no matter how crazy I sound?"

"You always sound crazy…"

"Shuu."

He threw his arms up and behind his head. "Fine, fine. Yeah, duh. That's what friends are for."

Alright. Deep breaths. I stared deeply into the earnest eyes of the boy across from me, then said, "What if I told you I was from another world?"

A beat of silence punctuated only by the pattering of rain passed. Then, "You mean, like an alien?"

I closed my eyes, feeling a faint headache start to form behind my brows. These weren't optimal conditions to give him the full story, not by a long shot. We were being soaked to the bone in an exposed area with tons of witnesses and so many places Waki could be hiding. I glanced down the path we had been taking, spotting the crossroads where Shuu and I parted every day on the walk home.

When I looked back at Shuu, his eyes were every bit as earnest as they were before. This kid had unwavering faith in me, and I couldn't keep betraying that trust by keeping secrets, I realized with a sudden clarity. "Do you remember where we first met? Meet me there tomorrow at noon, and I'll explain everything." With that, I continued down the road, headed for my side of the fork in the path.

"Where we first…?" Shuu shook himself, then followed me, his feet plodding clumsily in the puddles as he went. "Hey, wait up! What's so important that we gotta skip school for it?"

"I can't explain it right now, but I will tomorrow," I repeated, turning around. Shuu still looked unsure, however, his drenched hair plastered to his forehead giving him the look of a sad puppy. "Do you trust me?"

"Of course!" he exclaimed with a slight frown, as if he was offended that I'd even asked.

A warm feeling spread in my chest at the hasty answer. Relief. "Then don't ask why! Just do it!" This time, I turned around and started running down the path to my apartment without looking back. "Remember, tomorrow at noon!"


I ate dinner with more gusto than usual tonight. For one, it was nice to eat something freshly prepared rather than leftovers I'd dug up in the fridge. Imiki was home today, and she was in a great mood, and I found myself feeling the same, too.

"And then, at the last moment, I swooped in and unleashed my new weapon-combo, and all the bad guys dropped dead," she retold to me, acting it out dramatically with her chopsticks. I giggled at her silliness, seeing a bit of the old Imiki in her. "Do you have an awesome aunt, or what? Hm?"

"She's alright," I said, faking an unsure grimace. "Her soba could use work, though." Imiki batted me on the head, ruffling my hair after.

"I won't be taking advice from you, little lady," Imiki retorted. "I heard from your teachers that you're ranked third-last in your class in tactics. And here I was thinking you were so crafty, too."

Remembering the stern criticism I'd been given on my last assignment, I pouted. This year, the teacher in charge of teaching us tactical combat had changed to a man whose upper lip was stiffer than Hyouroku's—at least Hyouroku's would curl back in a snarl every once in a while.

The man, Otohiro-sensei, had given me his most scathing evaluation yet last week.

"Imagine, now, your two teammates have both been compromised. One has been poisoned by an enemy kunai. The other has been left to bleed out. You carry the antidote to the poison in question, and you also carry bandages and other medical supplies. From your position, you can reach either of them, but you don't have enough time to save them both. Alternatively, you could choose to save neither, and instead pursue the enemy ninja, who is just within range and carries confidential village secrets. Which do you choose?" Otohiro pointed at a girl in the front row, who fumbled with her pencils at the sudden attention. Hinata.

"U-um, I'll heal the one who was poisoned," she squeaked. "Since I-I'm not good at bandaging wounds yet."

Otohiro pointed at the boy next to her. He puffed his chest and replied, "Of course, I'll go after the enemy ninja!"

The teacher continued to point at the kids seated in the first row until he arrived at my desk. To my infinite surprise, Naruto was awake today, but the question seemed to have stumped him. His eyes were squeezed shut, something I'd learned to recognize as a nervous tic of his.

"Naruto," Otohiro called. "What would you do?"

"I…" Naruto trailed off. "I'd try to save both of them, 'ttebayo! Yeah!"

"You don't have enough time," the teacher reminded as the rest of the class broke out in snickers.

"Then I'll come up with a way to save 'em both! And—and then, I'll go after the enemy ninja, too!"

The class was still laughing when Otohiro's finger turned to me. "Alright, then. Next, Futaba?"

My own smile slipped off my face as the class began to quiet down, waiting for my answer. Who would I save in that situation? I'd heard all three options taken by other classmates (plus Naruto's fourth option), but none of them stood out to me. One teammate was dying from poison and the other was bleeding out, all the while an enemy ninja was escaping with village secrets. In reality, I wouldn't be able to live with myself if I'd let anyone on my team die—but then again, in this world, who was I to decide who lived and died?

"Futaba." The teacher called again. Nervous sweat began to bead at the base of my neck when I noticed that the class had fallen silent. "Your answer?"

"I…I don't know," I replied meekly.

Otohiro slammed his hand down on the podium. "Then, both of your teammates have died, and the enemy escaped with his desired information." The atmosphere suddenly felt heavy. "Naruto's answer may have been nonsensical, but it was at least an answer. Your worst enemy on the battlefield is indecision. It would do all of you some good to remember that." He turned the page in his book. "Moving on…"

I scoffed at the memory. I guess I still had a lot to learn—heck, I could learn a thing or two from Naruto, apparently. "I'm not crafty, Imiki-nee," I said, batting my eyelashes innocently.

"Heh, I can see the Nagayuu blood in you after all," Imiki remarked, serving me another handful of soba noodles.

After dinner, I went into my closet and immediately felt my good mood decay when I saw the mess of a timeline on my wall. Right, I had things to worry about. Flopping down onto my futon, I stared at the wall for a long, long moment.

I had been so stupid, keeping it to myself this whole time. Anyone could see that this was an impossible amount of information for one kid to handle on her own. Shuu might not end up being all that helpful, but to have someone in this world that knew what I did, someone that I could trust with all of this, would already be an immense weight off of my shoulders.

Now how was I going to explain it, exactly? I drummed my fingers against the floor in thought. Prophetic dream? Or the flat truth?

Oh well, I'd come up with something before lunch tomorrow. My heart raced with anticipation as I considered the possibility that this could be it, this could be my way to save him. In a practiced motion, I reached for my walkie-talkie, pressing the buttons in sequence as I had for the past couple months. When the open channel buzzed, I said, "Ne, Shuu." I clicked off and waited for a response, my mind wandering back to how I'd break the news.

When none came after a moment, I frowned. It was just around 8 in the evening, which wasn't nearly late enough for Shuu to have gone to sleep. This wasn't routine—maybe Shuu was getting extra training? I dismissed that idea, too, because Shuu's parents were strict about not letting him participate in late-night training sessions on school nights.

Out of stubbornness, I dialled the channel again. "Yo, Shuuuu! Are you there?" Silence.

Hesitantly, I set the walkie-talkie back down. This wasn't a big deal or anything, and there were plenty of reasons he could be AFK, so to speak, so why did I feel so terrible?

"You're overthinking things," I whispered to myself, rolling onto my back. The ceiling stared back at me. "You just saw him today, a few hours ago."

The unpleasant feeling only grew, like a parasite spreading right beneath my skin.

I hadn't been a big believer in human intuition in my past life. It was hard to be a believer of natural instinct when you hardly had to rely on it anymore and technology existed to calculate the best possible outcomes for you. But this world emphasized the exact opposite, urging people to trust their instincts before all else. Right now, they were telling me that something was horribly wrong, even if my mind argued against it with all it had.

This time, I prayed to whatever higher forces out there that my gut was wrong as I sprang to my feet and ripped my jacket off of the hook on my way out of my room. "Futaba-chan?" I heard Imiki pause in her dish-washing as I jogged past, but I didn't have time to stop. "Futaba-chan, where are you going? Futaba!"

Something was wrong. I felt it. I just knew it.

The panic snowballed as I got going. Soon, I was sprinting out of the apartment, forgoing shoes in my hurry, streaking down the well-worn path that would lead to the place my fears congregated, my feet slick with mud.

It can't be, I thought to myself between ragged pants. It's too soon, and it's raining.

My foot hit an especially smooth patch of mud and I careened, arms flapping to regain my balance, but to no avail. The chill of rain and mud drenched my clothes, but I clawed my way out of the puddle and resumed running, ignoring the sting in my knees.

When the entrance to the compound was in sight, I froze.

Nothing appeared to be wrong, and for a precious second, I concluded that I had been wrong after all. My anxiety had just culminated to the point where I was having mental breaks like this, and I'd compartmentalize this incident and tackle it later.

But then a much more ominous feeling hit me. I felt waves of dread emanating from the neighbourhood before me, permeating my skin and hitting bone with their sheer intensity. My instincts were back, and this time, they were screaming at me to get away.

I could just make out the first few buildings that lined the entrance of the compound, but the darkness of the night in combination with the heavy rain obscured my vision to the point where I couldn't make out much else.

I couldn't move. "Shuu?" I shouted, swallowing the lump in my throat. "Shuu, are you in there?"

It was foolish, I knew, because what were the odds of him hearing me? Still, I continued to call him feebly for at least a minute, then, out of sheer desperation, "Sasuke?"

A dead silence followed. Something clicked, and I realized why that silence was so unsettling—it was too quiet. The Uchiha compound was alive with activity at nearly all times of day, but even at the relatively early hour of 8 PM, no one was going in and out of the compound tonight.

Move, Futaba, move! I gritted my teeth and tried to move from where I stood, but my body wouldn't listen. Goddamnit, you stupid fuck, MOVE!

Just as I managed to move one step forward, a shadow cast itself over me. Suddenly, the sound of rain from behind me faded. My heart leapt to my throat.

Who…?

I turned, but before my head could move more than an inch, I felt a sharp blow to the back of my neck. My knees gave out, and I faintly registered my own voice crying out.

A flash of red eyes invaded my sight even as my eyes drooped shut.

Then, nothing.


[hides behind a rock]