Cold.
Do you know what it's like to freeze?
To drown?
It's not pleasant.
When I died, it was cold. So, so cold. I'm not entirely sure how it happened.
A push. I was weak, so weak and small. I weighed around 41lbs, and I was only a little over five feet tall. It took them little effort to bind me, to pick me up and carry me, it took them little effort to shove me into the cold, cold water. I was submerged, I could feel the water sapping at my core, at my energy, freezing up my muscle. I felt the water fill my lungs when I tried to gasp in some air. It was windy, that day, and the waves picked me up and threw me down as if I was nothing. And I was nothing.
I wasn't surprised that I was targeted. There was a murderer around town, going after kids around ten years old who were left alone often. I wasn't ten, I was older, but I knew I looked young, small.
I remember the first victim. His name was Callum Tupper, I knew him. He lived around my block; clearly being abused. He was tiny, around four feet tall, he could've been mistaken for a six-year-old, even though he was near twice that age. I helped him with homework sometimes. I knew but I couldn't do much. I was still young, fourteen, but I tried to help him. He flinched at sudden movements, so I moved slowly. He hated loud noises, so I spoke softly. He was very kind and caring, though it hid under a shield of sarcasm and dark humour. I liked him. He was a good kid.
He was reported missing on a Thursday-though I suspect he was abducted earlier; he missed at least a week of school, and his dad wasn't in the habit of drawing attention to the household.
His body was found in a lake, alongside a car from Manitoba that was reported stolen.
The next person to go missing was Danielle Gautier. I didn't know her, but apparently she lived with her grandma, but was self-sufficient; doing errands, schoolwork, walking everywhere on her own. She went missing on a Monday and was found in her grandma's shed the same day. Her grandma was, however, in America at the time, leaving a neighbour to check in on her. The neighbour apparently checked in after getting a call from the school and didn't find her in the house, then called the cops.
I guess I'm the third victim.
I've never had good luck, I decide, thinking back on the time a crow was skewered on my fence, or when a ceiling light fell on me.
And now I sit, in a boy's body, in Naruto.
I'm sure you've read fanfiction before, yes?
Do you know what it's like to be Uchiha Sasuke?
To be reborn?
It's...weird. I've always been distant from reality, dissociated from everything. I was like a leaf in autumn, drifting where the wind blows me.
I've never claimed to have healthy habits. I've been ignoring my knowledge, remaining passive, neutral. I face my fears when I sleep and avoid them when I'm awake. I look at Itachi and see a character, instead of a boy who's loves Sasuke—me.
When I look at Shisui, I see a dead man walking.
The thing with Itachi, it takes extroversion and patience to become his friend. I simply have to not want to be attached to him, and I won't. It helps that he leaves me behind and doesn't keep his promises.
But Shisui?
Shisui's a ball of sunshine and kindness, he was easy to like. People, including me, just gravitate towards him. I need to actually think of reasons not to get attached, I need to consciously stay away, I need to see him as dead.
It's easy to not care about Fugaku. The man was cold, borderline abusive. He was strict, and expected too much of young children.
It's less easy to forsake Mikoto. She's kind and smiles at me and feeds me. I feel sorry that she has a monster instead of a son.
I turn five. I'm applied to the Academy, a student.
It's mind numbing. Basic maths, simple theories, it's so average and easy, I can barely take it. The children, as cute as they are, aren't engaging company.
It's more awkward when I catch girls giggling at me.
I'm into girls—and boys, and anything in between (not attracted to pans, contrary to popular belief)—just. Not five-year-olds. I'm sorry, but as a five-year-old, relationships shouldn't be something I'm even thinking about. As a fourteen-year-old, I'm not interested in a relationship with a five-year-old.
I try my best not to look like the original Sasuke. I cut it shorter, so now it's more of a messy bob cut instead of the duck-like haircut from the original.
At this point, I decide that since I'm not learning anything from the Academy, I decide to ask Fugaku for help.
"Otou-sama? May I come in?" I ask him from just outside his office's open door.
After the Academy day was finished, I went straight to the Uchiha police force's headquarters. As the head's son, I am immediately shown to his office.
He examines me for a moment—for what, I don't know—before nodding. "You may."
I walk in, carefully closing the door behind me without turning my back to Fugaku. I don't trust him, and you never turn your back to a ninja.
"Otou-sama," I begin delicately, "I would like to request extra training. I've been finding the Academy sorely lacking."
Fugaku raises a questioning brow. "How so?"
I review my prepared response quickly. "I haven't learned anything since beginning to attend. It's classes are basic, easy. I am interested in bettering myself, however, I don't see that happening at the Academy anytime soon."
Fugaku blinked slowly. "I see. I will train with you in the afternoons from now on."
Fugaku was not a decent father. However, he was a skilled shinobi—a decent mentor.
By the next month, I learned the fireball jutsu.
It turns out that I have large, large reserves—not the size of Naruto's, I'm sure, but rather the size of an adult.
I'm not too surprised; I was technically eighteen.
I turned six.
"I'm Yamanaka Ino!"
"S-Sakura... Haruno Sakura."
Then seven.
"I'm gonna be Hokage, then the whole village will stop disrespecting me and treat me like somebody! Somebody important!"
Then eight.
The massacre happened. They were gone.
It...hurt. More than it should've. I got over it quickly.
If my past self saw me, she'd be disgusted. She was kind, shy, soft.
I'm her, but tougher, realistic. I grew up.
She was a child.
I'm not.
"Team seven: Haruno Sakura, Uzumaki Naruto—"
"Darn it..."
"YEAH!"
"—and Uchiha Sasuke."
"YEAH!"
"Darn it..."
I blink slowly.
Fear it. Run from it. Destiny comes all the same.