Chapter 1
Chapter 1: How I Woke Up
All I recall was the deafening screech of a motorcycle, the kind that sounds like it’s tearing the very fabric of reality, followed by a sharp pain in my head, and then... nothing. When I finally blinked my eyes open, everything felt wrong. The air was stale, like it hadn't moved in hours, or maybe days. There was a thick, suffocating silence.
I couldn’t hear the usual sounds of my house. No clinking of silverware, no chatter from the kitchen, not even the hum of the television in the background. I always heard my brothers arguing over who would get the last piece of bacon, or my dad yelling about something trivial. But now, nothing.
I turned my head, and that’s when it hit me.
I wasn’t in my room. My room was supposed to be familiar, with its mismatched furniture, posters of my favorite bands plastered on the walls, and the chaotic mess I always left around. But now, the room I was in felt so foreign. The colors were muted—like a dull pastel nightmare—and the furniture was all wrong. My bed was smaller, almost childlike. And... wait.
I looked down at my hands. These tiny, delicate little hands... not mine. Not my grown, 12-year-old hands. These were the hands of a child. A six-year-old child.
“Six?” I muttered, feeling a jolt of panic. “I’m 12! I’m... I’m 12, not six!”
I shot up in bed, my head spinning. The world felt off balance, like everything around me was blurry. As I scrambled to my feet, a flash of panic shot through me. The last thing I remembered—before the motorcycle screech—was that I was in my world, in my life, not in... this place.
I blinked, trying to focus on the surroundings. There were no posters, no toys scattered around the floor. It was all... wrong. I walked shakily over to a mirror hanging crookedly on the wall. The reflection that stared back at me was a little girl with pink hair, big green eyes, and a look of shock and confusion on her face.
“...Sakura?” I whispered to the girl in the mirror, only to realize the truth hit me like a ton of bricks.
This wasn’t my body. This was Sakura Haruno’s body.
I swallowed hard. “Oh, hell no.”
This... this couldn’t be happening. I didn't ask for this. I didn’t want to be reborn as someone else, especially not in a world where ninjas could throw blades faster than a speeding car, and everyone had abilities that made me feel like an ordinary civilian.
I was supposed to be living my life as me—no shinobi nonsense, no crazy world-shifting, no "you’re part of the prophecy" crap. I was supposed to grow up, get through school, and not become a ninja.
But here I was, a six-year-old version of Sakura Haruno, in a world where I had no idea how I got here—or how to escape it.
It wasn’t enough that I was stuck in this body; it seemed I had inherited every mess that came with it, too. I glanced at the unfamiliar surroundings again, feeling the panic rise in my chest. There were no familiar smells, no sounds of my family bustling around.
I froze. Where was my family? Where were my real parents?
I quickly turned toward the door, and then it hit me: I wasn't hearing any of the familiar noises of the Haruno household. Where was Mebuki? Kizashi?
A lump formed in my throat. I wanted to scream, but the sound caught in my chest.
I didn’t belong here. I didn’t belong in this body. I didn’t belong in this world.
The realization made my stomach drop.
The last thing I remembered was that motorcycle... that weird screeching noise. What if it had all been some sort of... accident? A freak of fate? Did I die somehow? Was I even still alive? How had I ended up as Sakura?
I looked down at my new body again, my heart racing. This wasn’t just any random body—it was Sakura Haruno’s.
And then, I heard a sound—footsteps, soft and quick—coming down the hallway. My breath caught in my throat.
I wasn’t sure if I was ready to meet whatever this new reality had in store for me.
But I had to.