World Breakers

By I.K.A. Valian

Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto.

Chapter 000: Prologue

My head was pounding. The air around me was rich with the sound of whooshing wind, crackling electricity, and what sounded like distant voices shouting. Whenever I tried to open my eyes, I would be bombarded by light so intense that it only made my head pound harder; my eyes felt like they had acid poured into them. I tried to breathe to calm my rapidly beating heart, but the air was like a raging inferno in my lungs. I tried to cry out but my throat was raw, as if I had a cold and coughed my throat bloody. My skin felt like it was being scraped by sandpaper all over and when I moved it felt like I had ripped the flesh off completely while the muscles were burned away by the jagged claws of whatever was attacking me. A coppery flavor and smell filled my mouth and nose, making me gag.

And then the torture stopped just as suddenly as it started.

It still hurt to breath, but not nearly like before when fire filled my lungs. Moving no longer hurt and my skin didn't feel like it was being ripped off anymore. That was probably because it was all ripped away by now and any pain I could have felt went with the nerves. Hah, jokes. I must be feeling better. I continued to gag and breathe hard as I attempted to simply survive the encounter with whatever force had just attacked me. Questions filled my mind as I lay wherever I was, breathing and gagging and twitching.

What just happened? Why did it happen? What the hell just happened?! Why the hell did it happen?! Am I going to die or am I already dead? Will anyone care that I'm gone? What is this disgusting crap in my mouth? Why did it hurt so much? Who would do this to another living being?

As I contemplated these questions, I felt something warm wash over me. My whole body was tingling and the pain slowly ebbed until it had receded completely. The urge to throw up slowly left, despite the flavor of blood still being present. Blood! That's what I was tasting and smelling. My own blood.

With the pain nearly gone and my heart rate slowing down, my head became heavy. With my eyes still closed, I let my body go slack as my will to resist the darkness fled. The pain was gone and it was like heaven. Is this what dying feels like?

An elderly man wearing a long white robe and a large, wide brimmed hat with the red symbol for "Fire" printed on it, stepped away from the observation window. Inside, a team of medical ninja were taking care of the slab of meat that landed just outside of the walls of Konohagakure, the Village Hidden in the Leaves, his home. He, being the Hokage, was responsible for any and all threats to the security of the village and the Fire Nation as a whole. When a fiery ball crashes just outside the village and explodes in a huge mushroom cloud of chakra, it was his business to deal with the attack and take care of the offenders. What his ninja found was a living being at the epicenter of the impact being tortured by some kind of reaction to the natural chakra energy that exists everywhere in the world. The only way they could stop him from being, and this made the old man shudder, essentially dissolved by the natural energy of the planet was to place him in a chakra free room that was reserved for infants with the rare Chakra Hypersensitivity Disorder.

The old man let out a strained breath and brought out a old wooden pipe. He lifted it to his lips and began to suck smoke into his mouth thought the mouthpiece. As the sweet flavor and heat of the smoke filled his lungs and covered his tongue, he felt some of the tension leave his body.

"Will he survive?" The old Hokage asked the lead medic as the man exited the chakra free room.

"Most certainly," the medic said with a nod. He pulled off his bloody gloves and dropped them into a chute next to the room's door. When the gloves finally reached the furnace in the basement, they'd be incinerated. A policy of hygiene that the old Hokage fully endorsed when the hospital was being built after the First Shinobi World War. "I don't know what happened to cause such a reaction to chakra, but now it seems his body isn't rejecting it outright. Or perhaps, it's that it's not rejecting human chakra. The natural energy in the air seemed to be doing the most damage to him and I'm going to say that until he's recovered enough layers of skin, he'll likely be stuck inside this room. We'll have to test the new skin to make sure it's resistant to the chakra in the air, but we assume it will."

"Hmm…" The Hokage took another long draw from his pipe. After letting it sit inside his lungs for a spell, he breathed it out through his nose and asked, "Anything else?"

"Er… Just one oddity, though I have no way of explaining it," the medic said. He turned toward the observation window and pointed at the bloody mess laying asleep in the operation table. "I was able to heal most of the major damage to his body and stopped the bleeding. The young man appears to be about twenty years old, maybe more, maybe less. But the odd thing about him is that he doesn't seem to have a chakra network and no chakra. How my efforts to heal him worked, I have no idea. It's like my chakra was supercharging the natural healing ability that already existed there, similar to how the jutsu was designed to work, but at in a much more efficient manner. If he had a chakra system, I would have sworn he was healing at the rate of a Jinchuriki. I just can't explain why that is."

"How long until he is healed enough to talk?"

"Normally, at this level of damage, a patient would be lucky to ever talk again, if they survived more than a few days," the medic said. "But at the rate his body seems to be able to repair itself, he'll likely be able to speak in about twenty four hours."

"Thank you," the Hokage said. "Please notify me when he awakens and is capable of talking. I have a great many questions I would like to ask him personally before T&I has a go at him."

"Of course, Hokage-sama."

The old Hokage turned and walked away as the medic went back into the room to resume healing. As the old man left the hospital and looked out across his home, his village, he smiled. His office was situated inside of a tall tower that overlooked the whole village from next to the large mountain with four large heads carved into it, his being the third. Instead of heading back to the inevitable desk-load of paperwork, the old man turned and started for a restaurant that he knew would find him in the company of a loud blond.

I dreamed of flying. It wasn't the first time, the second actually. I had the distinct privilege of being conscious of the fact that I was dreaming and that I was flying. I laughed and shouted in glee as I freely moved about the world. I jetted past large tracts of forests, floated past huge lakes and long flowing rivers, and set down atop a long sloping hill covered in wild flowers. It was exhilarating but I knew in the pit of my stomach that it would have to end, because all dreams end.

As the dream faded and the world went black, I became aware of the sound of people moving around me, using a language I'd never heard before to talk in soft murmurs. I knew I was awake now, much like I'd sit in bed and try to go back to sleep when I awoke at home. But the hard surface beneath my back and the voices I couldn't understand indicated I was not at home. Questions sprang into my mind as I tried to listen in on what these people were saying and utterly failing to recognize a single sound.

Where am I? What happened to me? How did I get here? Who are these people? Why am I here and not at home? When did this happen?

The last question caught my attention. I couldn't remember what happened to me. I remember… pain and throwing up. And the smell and taste of blood. But that was it. The last thing I remembered before that was driving my car into New York City because… shit, I can't remember that either. What the hell happened to me? Was I in some kind of hospital? That could explain the hard table underneath me, but not the strange language that the people around me were speaking.

I took in a deep breath to sigh when my lungs seemed to light up in pain. I violently began coughing, which attracted the attention of the other people in the room. I felt them rush to my side, shouting things all the while, and then one of them place their hands on my chest. The contact felt like someone had poured lemon juice, salt, and whatever other painful substance people can pour onto wounds, but all across my chest. I would have started coughing more violently in response, but then a warm pulse of heat pushed out from the hands over my chest and my lungs suddenly decided that they didn't want to hurt any longer.

Now breathing easier, I finally opened my eyes to see the person who'd probably saved me from coughing my lungs up. At first it hurt to see, the light way too bright. It was like I was staring into the sun. As I squinted and tried to see, the world slowly came into focus and I saw a man dressed in a white uniform standing over me. He had a white facemask on and a white hat holding his hair back. His uniform was stained with red, likely my own blood, but if it meant saving my life, then by all means, I didn't mind seeing my blood everywhere. If all that pain had a cause, then I was probably near death at least once in the last few hours and this man was probably one of the men or women who saved me.

Then I noticed his eyes. They looked nothing like I expected of a surgeon, if that was who he was. He looked like he was concentrating, but there was almost no life behind the brown eyes. It was almost as if what he was doing was just routine maintenance on a machine he'd rather throw away as useless scrap. I quickly noticed that this cold 'look' wasn't reserved to the man with his hands over me, but to the other people moving about.

And then I noticed that I was awake while the doctor was operating on me. Why the hell were they operating on me when I was awake?! And… what the hell is he doing with… glowing hands? He's operating on me with glowing hands? What the… What the hell kind of hospital was this?

I opened my mouth to say something, maybe scream at the absurdity of this, but the surgeon glanced at me and it was like ice slithered into my mind and down my spine. Whatever words I was going to try to say, died on my lips. Successfully stunned, the man lifted on hand away from my chest, and brought it to my forehead. With a short tap, I felt a spike of pain go straight into my brain, and then the world blinked out.

Twenty-three hours and fifteen minutes later…

I heard someone when I next awoke. It sounded loud and direct. The last thing I saw being a doctor and an operating room, I assumed that this was probably the doctor. But then again, the voice did sound kind of old and gravely. Why would they be talking to me?

The person repeated themselves, louder and enunciating each of the words I had never heard before.

I took a deep breath and then froze. My lungs didn't hurt. They didn't burn! Had I healed already? Wow, this hospital must be top notch to have fixed that in… how long had I been here?

I opened my eyes, and after blinking a few times to get used to the light, I saw an old man standing before my bed. It wasn't a very new looking bed, more like something that would be found a hundred years ago. I wanted to take in my surroundings more, but the sharp look in the old man's eyes told me to answer his question. Small problem there.

"I don't understand you," I said slowly. The only response I got was an eyebrow that arched. That might not have been surprising if only that hadn't been the only part of him that moved. This old guy had a poker face that might have been chiseled from granite. But it was clear he didn't understand me either, which made sense as I was thinking about how to get it across that we had a language barrier to breach. He likely only spoke the language he was speaking in. Me, I only spoke English. How to get across the message then? Time to put my communications degree to work.

I lifted my hands to my lips and quickly noticed they were completely wrapped in bandages. How the hell did they wrap each of my fingers like that so that I could move so freely? I mentally slapped myself and stayed on topic. I moved my hand to my mouth and made the jabber mouth motion, then crossed my arms in front of me, and then I pointed at the old man. After that I pointed at the old man, made the jabber mouth motion with my hand, crossed my arms in front of me, and pointed at my own ears.

The old man furrowed his brow but nodded slowly. Well, at least I understood that. I think. He did nod, right? I hope that means he understands.

The old man averted his eyes for a moment and then refocused on me. I guess that means he has a new idea. I just hope it works because this situation was quickly feeling more and more uncomfortable. The old man pointed at himself and said, "Sarutobi Hiruzen," very slowly, enunciating each of the vowels clearly. Something at the back of my head tickled my brain, as if something important was being discussed, something familiar.

I pushed that feeling aside because this I understood. Names. I could do names. I pointed at myself and said my name. The old man repeated it back. I nodded and then added, "Or V."

"Orvee?"

I shook my head as a slight frustration welled up inside of me. Where the hell was I that they didn't understand English? "Vee," I said, enunciating the single letter as clearly as I could. The old man played around with the sound a few times before he looked back at me

"V," he said. I nodded. He nodded back. Great, now we just have to figure out how to talk to each other beyond one letter-

And then my brain froze as the reason that this felt familiar became clear. Hiruzen Sarutobi, the third Hokage, leader of Konohagakure, village hidden in the leaves, longest serving Hokage, father of at least two men, one of which is Asuma Sarutobi, killed by Orochimaru, grandfather figure to Uzumaki Naruto. I blinked and looked closer at the old man in front of me. It was there, barely, but it was. A lot of details are lost when a person is draw as an anime character, but this old guy definitely had the distinctive pointy beard and the old weathered face. But… maybe it was possible that his name was just similar. It wasn't out of the question that two old guys had the same name. I'm sure other people have my name too.

The panic rising up inside of me ebbed away at that thought. It was ridiculous to think I was sitting in front of an anime character. No, he didn't even have the hat, and despite how rustic this place looked, it was clearly a hospital. That meant I'd just nearly panicked over nothing, though there was still the fact that I had no clue where I was, why I was here, or what happened to get me here. This was clearly no hospital in any nation I'd ever heard of, considering I'd never heard this language before. Another reason I was imagining things, the language that this guy was speaking was not even remotely Japanese. Sure, it sounded similar, like Korean sounds similar, but isn't. Yet of the few words that I'd heard spoken so far, none of them were similar to the few Japanese words I know.

So, I'm in a foreign country's hospital and this old guy has a striking resemblance to an anime character. Great. Just great. Maybe I really did die back there.

After a long silence, Sarutobi said something else I didn't understand. But at the same time, he made the motions of putting something in his mouth, chewing, and then repeating. Ah, so he was asking me if I wanted to eat. I shook my head. No, oddly enough, I felt full. Stuffed even. Whatever I ate before I ended up here must have been huge.

Hmm… this was ridiculous. We couldn't say the things we want to say because we couldn't understand each other. And even if we could sign out the question, the answer would likely be impossible to sign back. The only exception would be simple questions with simple answers. Like the food question.

I heaved a great sigh and then it hit me. I was a writer. I could write down the alphabet and maybe teach the old guy how to speak English. Maybe he'd teach me his language in turn. That would solve the problems, I think.

I waved my hand around until I got Sarutobi's attention, then I pretended to start writing in my hand. It took a few seconds before the old man's eyes widened a little and then he nodded. He looked to his left and said something. I followed his gaze and saw a door. Oh yeah, there's more to this room than me and Sarutobi. For a second, I swore I could see a man standing there, but I blinked and he was gone.

I turned back to Sarutobi and he looked at me and smiled. I smiled back. We waited for a few more seconds and then there was a piece of paper in my lap and a pencil. At least I think it was a pencil since it was built the same, only I'd never seen graphite or lead that black before. Maybe charcoal? It didn't matter.

What did matter was that the guy who put them in my lap had literally just appeared out of thin air. I sat there, blinking and trying to comprehend what I'd just seen until Sarutobi coughed. I turned to look back at the old man and he had that serious look on his face again. I stared at him as my mind still tried to wrap around the idea that a masked man had just appeared out of thin air. Then he coughed again and pointed down.

I looked down and saw the paper and pencil. Oh yeah! What did I want these for again? Oh, right, helping to communicate. So, first thing first, I have the medium, I have a message, now to code the message for transmission across the medium.

I brought the paper closer to me and set it flat on my lap. It was a fairly thick paper, sort of like construction paper. Then I set about writing each of the letters of the alphabet in as neat a line as I could. My writing seemed worse than usual, but I could easily write that off (haha, how very punny) as nerves and wrote extra large letters to compensate.

When I was finished, I spun the paper around and pointed at the first letter. "A, Ahh." Then I pointed at the second letter. "B or Buh." As I went through the alphabet, sounding out each of the letters, Sarutobi paid rapt attention. He repeated each of the letters after I demonstrated. When I finally reached the last letter, I put the paper down and patted the bed.

"Bed," I said, "B, E, D."

"Beeduh," Sarutobi said. He said the word a few more times until it sounded about right. "Bed?" I nodded and he smiled. He held his hand out toward the paper and I hesitantly handed it to him. Sarutobi took the paper and pencil and then quickly scribbled something down. After that he started looking up at the alphabet and slowly started writing letters down. After a short while he handed the paper back.

I looked over what Sarutobi had written, or drawn as I soon found a strange symbol that did look strikingly similar to one of the characters that far eastern cultures wrote in. I'd never studied any language but English, so this might as well have been Japanese and I wouldn't know. Fortunately, underneath the symbol, Sarutobi had written out the "BED" and then beneath that, a strange combination of letters that I had never seen before.

It took me a moment to realize that it was a translation. I looked up at Sarutobi in surprise. If I had to guess, this man had never seen or heard English before in his life, just as I was having trouble with the language Sarutobi was speaking. And yet, after just one word and hearing the alphabet only once, he'd already learned how to translate? Holy shit! This man must be a genius or something!

Slowly, I began sounding out the word.

"Baowood," V said. Sarutobi had to repress a chuckle. It seemed their own version of the name for a bed was much harder to pronounce than whatever language the young man had just revealed. V continued to sound it out over and over again. He glancing up at Sarutobi every few tries to see if he'd gotten it correct or not.

While V was busy, Sarutobi motioned toward the ANBU standing next to the bed. In an instant, the ninja was by Sarutobi's side. "I want you to go and find Yamanaka Inoichi and Nara Shikaku. Bring them here, but please use the door. It seems V-kun here has never been exposed to the shinobi arts before. Startling him more might be… counter-productive."

"Yes, Hokage-sama," the ANBU said. The young man behind the dog mask gave a curt nod and then hesitated before he turned and slowly walked out of the room 'the old fashioned way', using the door. Once the door was shut though, Sarutobi had no doubt that the ANBU would Shunshin away to carry out his task.

When the door opened several seconds later, Sarutobi and V turned to look at the new comer. A blond new comer who shouted, "Found you, Old Man!" The blond then launched himself forward with his arms stretched open wide and latched himself onto Sarutobi in a tight hug.

The old Hokage laughed and smiled as he hugged the young blond back. "Naruto," he said, "What are you doing here? Don't you know that you're not supposed to barge into random hospital rooms?"

"But… But, Old Man," Naruto said. He pulled back and looked the old man in the face, pouting, on the verge of tears, with his lower lip trembling. "I thought you were hiding from me. I didn't know where you were so I… I…"

"Calm down, Naruto," Sarutobi said. "It's alright. I wasn't in my office today because I had to meet with this young man here."

At this point, both Naruto and Sarutobi turned to look at V. Sarutobi noticed how V was staring at Naruto and how his normal brown skin tone had turned eerily pale. The old Hokage arched his eyebrow at this.

"Hey, Old Man," Naruto said as he stared right back at V unflinchingly. "Why is he so funny looking?"

"Well, Naruto," Sarutobi said, "this young man was injured while traveling and he wound up here. I'm having a conversation with him to see if he knew what hurt him."

"Huh?"

"It was a bad injury," Sarutobi explained. "So if I can find out how he was hurt, then I can keep my own forces from falling to the same fate."

"I dun get it," Naruto said as he finally broke eye contact with V and turned to look at the Hokage with confusion written all over his face. "He doesn't look like he was hurt at all! And he doesn't look like he understands a thing we're saying! Plus, why does he have such dark skin?!"

Sarutobi laughed and ruffled Naruto's hair. "Don't worry about it Naruto. It just means he's a foreigner and he can't understand our language or customs."

It just could not be real. No, I wanted it to not be real. How in the hell did this happen? What kind of sick and sordid sense of humor did God have to allow this twisted set of circumstances to even exist? Let alone that I happened to become the victim to this twist of fate.

I don't think I can follow the claim that I'm not in some anime universe now. I was staring at the main character. Granted, the boy looked real enough instead of the anime kid that I'd seen growing up, but I was still finding it hard to believe. Uzumaki Naruto, it turns out, did not have spiky blond hair, but a very wild mop of blond hair. His eyes were blue, yes, but no larger than anyone else's. Ironically, the only thing that the anime got right was the three whisker marks on each of the boy's cheeks.

When Naruto turned to face me and stare me down, I swear I could see the anime version standing next to him, eyes squinted, studying me in the exact same manner. That settled it. I was now in the world of Shinobi, a world of violence, death, and ninja powers that could literally let you fly through the air or swim through the earth… or if you were really unlucky, destroy the world. I am so, so, so screwed.

A/N: Another self insert attempt. In this one, I wanted to explore how chakra would react to a person from a chakra dry world. It wouldn't just cozy up to the person and say, "boo, you got supa powers now, boyeee!" No, since Chakra is pure energy, it would probably dissolve their body. Human Chakra, on the other hand, is altered enough for a human body to be exposed to since it was produced in a human body to begin with. Anyway, tell me what you think! In a review!

~I.K.A. Valian