can he get a refund please?
(Trigger Warning)
Dying sucked. Like, a lot.
But it was also kind of peaceful? In the end, fading away wasn’t so bad. One moment he’s sitting there and the next the darkness that had been creeping at the edges of his vision is suddenly all encompassing. So really, it’s a relief if he had anything to say about it.
It was just the pain that sucked. The pain and the blood. The blood that coated his arms like he had shoved them into a lake filled with blood and didn’t care to wipe them off.
Like he said, dying sucked. But coming back to life? Well, that happened in a flash.
Well, not really a flash per se. But more of a slow blink into startling awareness.
He’s in a bed, staring up at a raggedy ceiling that looks like it hasn’t been tended to in years. And he knows it hasn't, because he doesn’t remember ever thinking about fixing them up.
‘What the fuck?’
Memories flash before his eyes and it makes his brain hurt. He’s an old man, twenty-six years old and his knees already creak when he tries to stand up. But he’s also twelve and he’s got energy to spare.
He’s twenty-six and he’s bleeding out on the ground and he’s so, so cold.
But, he’s also twelve and he’s still alive. Still breathing steadily. There’s no blood leaking out of him. And he’s warm, body relaxed under the comforting weight of his blanket.
He sighs, world-weary and exhausted. Of course it didn’t stick. Only he would manage to screw up death. Again.
His eyes flicker around the small apartment. Though calling it an apartment is rather generous. It’s more like a single room that has living necessities crammed into it. There’s a sink and stove over in the corner furthest from him. A shelf that looks like it’s on its last legs, with a few books scattered on it. And two doors that spread across the far wall. One of which is open, showing the insides of a small bathroom with a shower. The other can only be the exit.
He knows it’s the exit, he’s walked through that door hundreds of times and it led to a long hallway on the third floor of his apartment building. An apartment he was shoved into the first week he joined the academy because the orphanage didn’t have the space or resources to continue supporting him.
Such is the way for shinobi in the village.
‘Shinobi? Holy shit, why? But that would mean…’
Sitting up to look out the window above his bed, he feels his heart stutter in his chest when he sees the four giant heads that adorn the mountain a good distance away. You know, the giant heads of the previous Hokage.
‘How convenient that I can look out my window and find proof.’
He wonders for all of a few seconds who the current Hokage is when a flash of a memory shows that the old man is Hokage once again. That the fourth died twelve years ago fighting a giant fox demon.
Kyuubi. Naruto. Ugh.
There’s a steadily building ache behind his eyes that doesn’t seem to be going away anytime soon. He closes his eyes and flops back down into the bed. Pulling the blanket up over his head to block out the early morning light.
Great. So he’s dead, right? Maybe this is all just a giant hallucination or something. But no, he doesn’t think it is. Because while he’s hallucinated before, they’ve never felt more real. The blanket is rough and itchy to the touch and it’s taking everything he has to not toss the thing off him in a flurry.
He’s hiding right now, thank you very much.
He takes a moment to take stock of his new situation. Where is he? Konoha, his apartment. His? And who is he supposed to be? Because he certainly would know if he was living in the world of tailed-beasts and magical eye bullshit before now.
Rei.
The thought pops into his head and it’s deafening. It echoes inside him like a gong. Okay. He’s Rei. Rei who? No last name. Orphan. No family of his own to call upon. Left at the orphanage twelve years ago with nothing. Not even a name of his own to write on his nametag.
He sighs again, feeling like he needed a very long nap.
Usually, when one is reborn, there are benefits that come with that. You know, like family. Close friends. People who are to care for you. And yet, as he sifts through his new memories, he knows he has no one.
Rei the orphan is a nobody. There’s nothing special about him. He has no family, no friends, nothing.
‘Very much like my last life also.’
And if that ain’t the most depressing shit.
It takes him an annoying amount of time to take the blanket off his head. And when he does, he flings himself out of bed and stumbles his way over to the bathroom. Cursing the fact that he feels way too close to the ground than he’s used to.
When he reaches the mirror in the bathroom, he’s barely tall enough to see himself in it, but the person in it is a stranger.
Fair skin, dark black hair that seemed tinted blue when the light caught it just right that hangs down to his chin on both sides in a way that screams unkept and a striking set of dark green eyes that had flecks of honey brown sprinkled in them. His features where alright to look at, he guessed. They could be considered handsome, or good looking. Maybe. He didn’t know. It’s not like he spends a lot of time wondering about the attractiveness of other men. His body slender in a way that screams malnourished. His wrists are so tiny, what the fuck?
Especially doesn’t look at children as anything other than snot-nosed brats until they are tall enough to reach past his waist. And he’s currently occupying the body of one such snot-nosed brat.
He sighs, rubbing a hand over his face. He’s too tired for this shit right now. He just freaking died, he needs a few hours before he’s able to process anything right now.
‘Now that that is out of the way, now what?’
Sleep. Bed. He stumbles back to the bed on unsteady feet. His mind whirls. He throws himself into the mess of blankets and sheets and pulls the itchy blanket back over his head.
He’s going to sleep and then he’ll deal with this shit later.
He doesn’t know how long he sleeps for, but when he wakes up the sun is high in the sky. It’s damned beams hitting him directly in the face, his blanket of protection having been kicked off sometime in his slumber.
He lays there for a long time, eyes closed in an attempt to squeeze out as much sleep as he can before he has to be responsible.
He’s still in the bed he fell into. That itchy blanket is mercifully nowhere near his skin and that’s a win if he ever heard one.
Memories of his lives swirl around inside his head. Mixing together and adding more years onto his already exhausted life.
Memories of the man, who hated life so much and didn’t have the patience left to keep hoping for a better future. The man who had no one and nothing and decided it wasn’t worth it to keep on suffering in the silence of his own broken brain.
Memories of the kid, who didn’t hate life quite yet but had nothing and no one and couldn’t wait to get a team soon so he could finally have friends. Could have a sensei that would take them under their wing and it would finally be like having an actual family. A kid who wanted to make the world see he wasn’t just nothing.
The memories mix together and merge, leaving behind a boy who was an unholy combination of both sets. Exhausted, but with the strong urge to be strong so he could build a family of his own one day. But still a boy with nothing and no one to call his own. Nothing to protect quite yet.
Eventually he has to get out of bed. He uses the bathroom quickly, does not think about it too much, please gods why is he a child, and then finds himself standing in the center of his small studio apartment wondering what he’s supposed to do now.
What is he supposed to be doing right now anyway?
Memories flicker to life behind his eyes and he sighs in slight relief. It’s the weekend, he doesn't have to be anywhere right then. The only thing he had planned to do today was get some food from the local grocer.
He sighs at the weirdness of it all and glances around the room for things he might need to make a trip into town. He’s still in his sleep clothes and his wallet is somewhere in the dirty mess that is his apartment floor.
Maybe he should clean up a bit first. So that’s what he does. He spends the next hour cleaning up the small room. Tossing things into the trash and putting dirty clothes into a hamper basket to be washed later on.
‘Jeez, this kid is a mess and a half. Was a mess? I don’t know.’
He damn near stabs himself on a few stray kunai that he finds tucked away in the mess. Luckily, they seem to be in a poor state and are rather blunted. Which sets off a few bells in his mind.
He wanted to be a strong shinobi and he couldn’t even take care of his weapons?
Whatever, problem for later him.
Once the floor is cleaned enough that he can actually see the damned thing, he plops down onto the bed with the wallet he found and sorts through it to see how much money he has. It’s not much really, just enough to cover some groceries. He wonders at it all before the memory of receiving a stipend from the orphan fund comes to him. He’s due to receive his last payment soon.
And then he’ll be expected to find his own income.
Such is the stipulations to the fund, seeing as he’s meant to graduate the academy a month from now, Konohagakure would only fund him until he was made a ninja. Then he’d be on his own.
And that brings up a whole new set of problems. He’s supposed to become a ninja in a month and all he knows are the academy's three ninjutsu and some basic taijutsu. What was this damned kid thinking? Didn’t he know that he needed to be at least chunin level at graduation in order to survive this shitty world?
Especially as a no name orphan brat in the world of Clan Kids™. Clan Kids™ that all have some sort of cheat code embedded inside them from birth.
Honestly, he doesn’t have any faith in his ability to make it as a ninja.
He sighs.
He hadn’t watched a lot of the anime. Barely made it past the Wave arc and then kinda skipped around whenever things popped up. No, most of his knowledge of the Narutoverse came from things like fanfiction. And that sucked, because who knew what was real anymore.
He should be freaking out right now. Should be having a panic attack or something and hiding under his bed. But all he can feel right then is tired. So very tired. This isn’t what he had in mind when everything started fading to black.
But there is nothing he can do about it now. So, he might as well make the best of it.
Later, after he has groceries.
Walking through Konoha is a trip and a half.
Everything feels so much more lived in than what he’s seen in the anime. And while fanfiction is great and all, it doesn’t do it justice in words alone. There’s an undercurrent of something nostalgic that wafts through his nostrils. He can’t pin it down, but it smells sort of safe. But also not at the same time. He doesn’t know how to describe it really.
And the people. Oh my, there are people everywhere. Every once in a while, he’ll get a flash of someone who looks familiar, and it’s the oddest feeling in the world. Like he knows who they are but doesn’t know why he knows. In the faint way of how you recognize a regular at a shop you frequent but don’t know anything about them besides what they look like.
It’s honestly vaguely annoying.
As he walks, he delves into this new set of memories the best he can. Trying to figure out his new circumstances.
His new name is Rei. Just Rei. Because apparently he doesn’t even warrant a family this go around. Which is fine. It’s fine. He’s twelve years old, born some time in during the summer month of August. The matron at the orphanage wasn’t sure of the date, just that he showed up as a newborn sometime in the middle of the month.
In his last life, he was born in August also. Maybe he should just use that date and go from there.
So, orphan. And for the last four years, he’s been living alone in that tiny apartment he now calls home. Somewhere he was stashed when he joined the Academy and started training to become a shinobi.
He doesn’t have any friends. Like at all. None. Zip. Zero. He’s a loner loser in this life too. Though not for lack of trying, he just doesn’t seem to fit in with any of the other cliques in school. Which isn’t all bad. At least this way he won’t have anybody he has to worry about fooling.
Seeing as all his relationships are of vague acquaintances, he won’t have to pretend to be someone he’s not.
He’s not very skilled in comparison to the others in his class. In fact, he’d say he’s below average all around. That’s not to say he’s not intelligent, it’s just that he hasn’t put very much effort into his classwork. And because of that, he’s fallen behind the curve.
It’s hard to keep up with Clan Kids™. They have so much more help in the ways of being a shinobi that regular kids like him naturally fall behind.
Half of his class is filled with the damn buggers. All the major clans represented in it. Which is mildly annoying, why does he have to be mixed in with those people. The Rookie Nine. They are all insane.
Half his memories of the classes he shares with them is just those nine brats interrupting class like their all characters in a sitcom or something. They're supposed to be ninja, not actors taking part in a play.
Anyway, he needs to get stronger if he’s ever going to do anything in this life. The only problem is that he doesn’t know how the hell he’s supposed to do that. As far as he knows, he’s just some civilian kid with no ninja background to give him a surprise bloodline limit or something. And, it’s not like he can remember a lot of the training they did.
He can’t just spam Kage Bunshin and have them train for hours on end like they do in fanfiction. He doesn’t even know the hand signs for that, let alone have the chakra levels for such a thing.
Maybe when he’s done shopping, he can try to mold some chakra or something? He thinks meditation is involved, but he’s not sure. And then he’ll try some things out and hope for the best. He shoul-
He blinks and finds himself at the entrance to the grocers shop. He doesn’t know what he was expecting, but a building that looks kind of like a mini-mart isn’t it.
Huh. Don’t think too hard about it.
The next hour of shopping is a task.
He doesn’t get a lot in the end. Simply for the fact that he doesn’t recognize a single damn brand in the store and had to spend way too much time trying to figure out what everything is. Luckily, the instant ramen is something that seems to be universal. Dimensional? He doesn’t know anymore.
He was feeling cheeky, okay? It’s the land of Naruto, he’s allowed to indulge a bit, thank you very much.
So anyway, he got some stuff to eat and some stuff to drink and that’s that.
Hopefully his fridge works right, he didn’t check it before he left.
The trip home is just as weird, but he makes it home with little fuss. He locks the door behind him when he steps into his apartment and sets the groceries down on the countertop next to the sink.
Was he supposed to announce his presence back home or something? This is so weird.
“Yo, I’m back or whatever.” His voice startles him. It sounds like a child. He sounds like a damned brat. What the hell.
His heart drops into his stomach at the thought that rises up soon after.
He hasn’t gone through puberty yet.
His shoulders slump in defeat, and all he wants to do is crawl back under the blankets and hide. Not that itchy blanket, but something softer thanks.
He had gone through puberty once before and now he has to do it all over again. Kill him now. Please, please save him from the despair.
The random boners alone are going to haunt him every hour for who knows how long. Not to mention the high pitched voice that irritates his damned ears.
Ugh. Best to not think about it for now. He’s already messed up and traumatized, no need to go making it worse quite yet.
The groceries are put away quickly, and thank god the fridge works otherwise he’d be upset. He searches the apartment for a notebook and finds one that he remembered tucking away on the rickety shelf earlier. A pen is harder to find, but he does it.
He sits on his bed and just kind of brainstorms. Writing down whatever comes to mind about the world he’s found himself in. In the end it’s a giant freaking mess of shit that he doesn’t know is real or not.
He doesn't know, okay? He’s trying his best.
Everything he writes down is meaningless though. Because there is nothing he can really do about it. Certainly not now, as he is. What is he supposed to do with the fact that Obito is part plant? He thinks. Or that Kakashi Hatake - is it Hatake Kakashi? This is weird - is the most thirsted after fucker in the entire world. Good god, some of the things he’s read.
Also, Bijuudama Rasenshurikan? Really? What the flying fuck!
He needs to take a few breaths to calm down. Otherwise he’s going to go even more insane. How in the seething hells is he supposed to be as strong as that shit?
It’s not fair.
He sighs, rubs a hand through his hair and then flops back onto the bed. Staring up at the ceiling as he tries to figure out how he’s going to survive the coming weeks, let alone years until the next war.
He needs to get strong. Fast. Fast as in yesterday.
Glancing out the window to see it’s still light out, he sighs one more time before burrowing himself into his bed as much as he can. That is a question for tomorrow.
In fact, he’ll go out and train tomorrow. He’s sure he can find an empty training ground to practice in. He’ll figure things out then.
As he lies there, he tries to figure out the chakra thing a little bit. Searching his memories for how he’s supposed to find it. He doesn’t have much luck, until it hits him all at once how to mold it.
His body tenses as he feels an energy rise up within him. A tingling under his skin that sends shivers down his spine. It’s strange. Odd and terribly foreign in a way that almost scares him. It’s like a fire has lit up inside his chest and is circulating within his blood stream. Racing through his limbs with little warning.
Almost like getting pumped full of narcan. If you know, you know. I’m sorry.
He marvels at the feeling for a bit before he slumps in defeat. The power within him fading away to a dull thrum under his skin that doesn’t seem to go away.
There’s not much of it there. But it’s there and that gives him some hope. Maybe he can do this.
Maybe.
But it’s going to be so much work that by the end, he might have just wished he was a simple merchant or something. Maybe he could open up a shop? Come up with some new idea to make bank in a world that’s half backwards?
No, no. He’d die within the first few months. Murdered by a stray kunai because one of the little brats jumped at their own shadow.
He sighs and rolls over, mushing his face into his pillow.
Tomorrow. He’ll deal with that tomorrow.