A.N. (1) Hello, my name is Sticks :D. I have not really wrote on Fanfiction dot net but I sure am ready to. Wanted to indulge in one of my guilty pleasures, if you could call it that, a Gamer fic. Second sin is making it a Naruto fic, honestly. The gaming system is based on what I have read from other fics and patterns like that, instead of the Gamer Webtoon itself or a direct gaming system. Also, the skills have song lyrics as the names, to ease any confusion. If anything seems off, please tell me! There are very little Gamer elements here in this chapter though.
Also, I have put very little math into some of the variables into leveling up and such, and boosts. There is still some and will be some, but not like every little skill like some fics do. I am too stupid do that guys.
Although fair warning, this fic may end up or have polyamorous, not harem, relations including the main character at some point, very, very far on though. Probably Queer-platonic as well.
It took a ridiculous amount of time for her to realize she was not in some type of limbo or personal hell. She couldn't control her body, and had a raging lack of awareness of it. Her head, or she assumed it was her head, she genuinely couldn't tell what part of her was what, was hurting so bad she could swear she was dying over and over again.
She could barely word what it was like to try to think in a way your body could not handle, complex thought was lost on her.
The dread came when she started getting the flashes, her own confusion bathed in patheticness. They could see more and comprehend it. She had no means of telling what time it was, or how even to measure it. The concept of time itself seemed beyond her then. Every little thing was overwhelming, and uncomfortable. Time passed in a daze, voices mixing together with a lack of patterns and faint, completely nonsensical to weak ears.
Later, she would just conclude that being a child was it's own hell. Being a baby was so much worse.
It was a blessing in itself that she couldn't remember much of it. There was always this woman however, with her voice and the way she would pick her up. Strong hands would hold the back of her neck and the woman was the only thing she could understand. The face was etched into her mind, and she lost count of how many times that she saw the woman.
Hunger and being held were the only things that went through her mind. Her weak body would sleep otherwise, exhausted from just living.
Her cradle was a dark color, deep purple, most of the time. When the woman wasn't there, she would hold her every time the serious-looking would leave, it was a lighter color. It was the only way she could diffenceriate she was in a different place, with how weak she was.
There is something about being so dependent, and so feeble. She barely understood what was happening, her mind more hazy than not. Do you have any idea what it's like to not be able to control your own vocal cords?
When it finally hit her that she wasn't in some sort of hell, and that she was a baby, her body couldn't stop screaming for hours. She must've been months old by then, it took so long to realize where she was. In a cradle, unable to walk or use the bathroom for herself.
And it broke her mind. Endless grief seized her unexplainably, she couldn't even understand why. What is she for? Why can't she understand that question? Her brain aches and throb every time something remotely complex enters it.
It was just misery for a while after that.
The thing about change is that you rarely find a person who actively enjoys it if it does not benefit them directly. Humans are made to be content with their own little caves, albeit curious but wouldn't dare venture out.
There are exceptions to this of course, but the thing is, being thrown into a different body is a shock that I can not even say. That isn't change, this isn't changing a routine, this is throwing the whole foundation to everything away and spitting in its face. This is fate fucking you over and getting caught dick in hand but you can't do a god damn thing about it.
My mother had to have taken me to a doctor, I was poked and prodded, but I couldn't think about it more than that. Everything was passing by me in all it's faded glory and I was stuck with the weight of a whole world on my shoulders .
My own memories were hazy to me, and maybe I would learn more as I grew older, but this was terrifying. The table I was set on to be examined on was cold, digging into my skin and into my bones. I was sure if I could cry anymore my useless body would be sobbing. It felt like an endless pit, not understanding who I was. Every moment I spent at this place just dropped me deeper into it.
"I don't understand, is she sick?" He has met very many level-headed people before, but this woman took the cake, and dango. She was the epitome of blank, not eerily so either. Her presence emitted more calmness than most of the doctors he had here.
Her stare was slightly off, however. You got the hint that she could dismember you if she wanted to, or if he acted the slightest wrong way to the woman's daughter, he would have to visit this place himself, and not as a doctor.
"I did the Scan already, she is physically fine." The stone-faced woman just turned to him slightly, and if he knew her better he would say she looked questioningly at him, but for sure he would go with passive.
If only she was a medical Shinobi, he thought, but he knew ANBU when he saw it. Although it would probably be treason to say it out loud, ANBU's identities were kept very under the rug. With the threat of war on them, he would have loved to have someone like her on his staff, instead of the shaky new batch they just got, he was worried for them. Ninja were too paranoid and jittery for their own good, it's why he has lived through a war already, and now his bones ache with the blood of people he couldn't save, and the people at this hospital.
"Did anything happen at your residence? Any changes?" He asked routinely, filling out the chart and ignoring the way the woman in front of him stared at him with those even eyes of hers. Her dark hair was short and curled but not unkempt, and it seemed to dull when she almost visibly aged when she sighed out softly.
He just realized how young she was, she probably had the kid when she was a teenager. He watches the mother pick up her child as the woman tries to answer.
"I've been having to go on missions, but other than that, I have no idea. Should I get some vitamins or medicine to help calm her?" She questioned, cradling the child with a gentleness few Shinobi had.
"I think she might just miss you. But you can ask the pharmaceutical downstairs for some sleeping drops that are safe for kids her age." The woman was out of the door by the time he was speaking, obviously done with him.
Yeah, he would have loved to have that woman on a staff team.
She decided the best option was, as all that happened when she thought about things was to have this harsh ache in her brain, was to go through a denial phase. Being a child seemed like it's own version of Fuck-you-bitchiness, so her solution was simple, sleep.
Fuck people. Fuck this hurt in her head, fuck being aware when she can't remember who she was, fuck this stupid shit, fuck everything.
So sleeping is what she did. Apparently sleeping was something you could get away with as a baby. Her mother was the only reason she would move or get up at all. She was probably diagnosed with depression, or some form of mental illness to try to confirm her behavior, her lack of anything but the urge to cry and sleep.
Her body just couldn't handle it. Her mind was shattering and in one other instant, a new thing to slap her in the face and make her it's bitch, she saw what her mother was wearing.
The carpet in their small house was very soft, and often very clean. She was often set down to play on it and would just roll over and nap on it instead. It was a good cushion when her life decided to fall apart around her. A small comfort for when she saw a mother-fucking forehead protector on her mother's arm, she was about to pick her up, as she always does when she leaves her, and picks her up hurriedly when she starts screaming.
This is when everything clicked in place for her. All the memories she had repressed, to probably retain her sanity, flooded her vision until the ache she always felt, drifted into the feeling of someone cracking her skull over and over again.
Emotions and memories and thoughts that weren't hers, but they were, passed through her head so fast she had no chance of filtering through them, and as soon as it started, the room span and she passed out.
When she woke up, she was no longer Akane, just more. Maybe it was another person entirely. Instead of a baby in the midst of a village on the brink of a war, she was also a teenager who spent all of her life as a civilian.
The hospital walls lacked color, and she wondered why as she stared at the ceiling. Was it a calming thing? Cheaper maybe? Why did people wear white at a hospital? Was it because white often symbolizes purity? To appear clean or help make sure things are clean? Doesn't blood stain white harshly, what was the point?
The questions don't mean anything, but somehow she latches on to them. Her body ached from trying to process what just happened to her.
Family. A life. She had so much and it's just gone. Maybe this is a dream, she reasoned. Or maybe I am in hell, she despaired. The careful world she had built in to perceive the world had been boiled and eaten by something much darker.
[For your mental breakdown, I feel pity for you and appoint you +1 wisdom]
She stared at the message blankly, not computing what was in front of me. Slowly she turned over, shutting her eyes harshly, a comical sight for a child only a few months old. There was no fucking way. This was some fanfiction shit. Fuck that.
Are you denying my existence?
The words were in her head this time and she just covered her ears. Nope, this wasn't happening, she thought. 'I wasn't in Konoha, I wasn't a baby, and no I didn't hear voices.'
I'll just come back in a year
[Error %*&$#]
[Loading]
Akane screamed as her brain was beat in again by something that wasn't there and then started outright screaming at the message there.
[Gamer Ability: Locked (until exactly: One year)]
This was her last straw. As soon as she could she was ending it all. Fuck this shit she could die again, not this world.
Loser
And with that, with the full grace of a sniveling child, her emotions overwhelmed and she started sobbing.
Ight, so this is probably going to mess with the writing of the chapters from now on, but I have decided I can not write in first person very well. From this point on I will rarely write in first person, or not at all. The suicide threat at the end is a just that, half-hearted threat someone made to a higher power that she couldn't fulfill in anyway, being a baby at the moment. Her personality is just...dramatic. As will be played with.
These are her stats, even though the ability is locked right now ;-;. They will be explained next chapter, as will a lot of things.
Akane [?] LV. 1
Age: 1
Health: 100/100
Stamina P: 80/80
CP: [locked]
STR: 1
CON: 1
DEX: 1
WIS: 4
INT: 10
LCK: -1
So, do y'all prefer powdered donuts or those chocolate ones? in those bag things. Yes, there is a right answer.
