Chapter Text
Editor HTML Online
Title: May you Live in Interesting Times
Author: Aoichibi
Beta: I's That C
Genre: Adventure, Fantasy, Humor (I'll try), Drama, angst and a dash o' Tragedy (this is ninja!)
Shipper: none as of yet (no plans for romance whatsoever).
Disclaimer: I do not own any Naruto copyrights. (;.;)
Summary: Life as a ninja should be full of awesome kill-you-with-a-touch jutsu, powerful friends, and awe inspiring battles where the good guys always win, right? Wrong! It has a deceased mother, suicidal father, a rule obsessed bastard of a brother and the war looming over our heads is not helping matters. Survival is the key. Self-Insert.
Author's Notes: : Well, prepare yourselves for the mighty cliché, the angst, the tragedy, the drama, the goofiness, the crazy theories of hypothetical stuff, the politics, the fights… or the general life of a ninja as I see it.
- Go read - 'Dreaming of Sunshine' by silverqueen, 'Only a Moron' by swabloo, and 'A Cage of Blood and Circumstance' by shadowsdeep. Best Self Insert fanfics out there.
**The image above - used to illustrate this fanfic - is work of jensduchateau and can be founded in his/hers deviantart by the same name.**
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
May you live in interesting times.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
Prologue:
Or how the Gods screwed me over.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
The sad thing about life is that it's over before you even know it.
My death would have been comical if I could tell someone about it. I couldn't, or I would end up in a padded cell somewhere. It was just sad. Sad, pathetic and stupid. Who dies by being run over by a bicycle anyways?
A bicycle.
A fricking bicycle.
Me, that's who.
It went more or less like this.
It was a rainy, dark night. I was finally going home after my douchebag of a boss decided to let me leave my dull-as-nothing-else job, when an idiot on an uncontrolled(and lightless, might I add) bicycle came down the slope. The scene was so surreal, so out of the norm, that my brain didn't compute and I didn't move, standing there like a petrified imbecile letting it hurtle my way. I suppose that I hit my head and cracked my skull somewhere on the pavement after the crash because it's all black from there on.
Not a very noteworthy death, I think.
But, after a while, it was not so black and warm anymore.
One of the first things I noticed when I woke up was the cold. Gods, it was so cold. I opened my eyes to see nothing; it was all a big blur; garbled sounds of a language that sounded like gibberish to me and formless, looming, big figures. And then I took notice that I couldn't breathe. There was something in my lungs and it hurt… It burned. I was dizzy, confused, scared and oh gods I was drowning, I couldn't breathe, someone help me! I panicked and screamed.
Well, I suppose that is why no one quite remembers their own birth.
Scary stuff, birth is, especially if you are the one being born.
Somehow I was reborn. Reincarnation maybe? Cosmic joke? I didn't know then - and I still don't-but I was sure that someone up there with the high and mighty gods was laughing their ass off at my misfortune. They didn't even have the decency to erase my memories, no that would be far too much mercy. I was a 23 years old college student locked in the body of an infant having my damned diapers changed and being breast fed.
Breast fed. Have you ever tasted mother's milk?
And my new parents wondered why I preferred the bottle so much.
Not. Funny.
Another thing that I remember quite well of those early and boring days of nothing more to do than cry-eat-cry-poop-cry-sleep rewind and repeat, was the warm stuff that coursed through my body. Every time I turned my attention inwards and 'poked' and 'prodded' at that warmth it would give me a rush like feeling, turning me into a cooing and giggling mass of high-as-a-kite infant for what seemed like hours. At least 'mother' was quite happy on those occasions. I was one happy baby.
One of those times I was playing with it, I tried to move it to specific locations - like my cold feet, for example (hadn't those people ever heard of socks?) Soon, I stumbled upon a quite strange thing, as if this whole reborn thing was not weird enough; there were two different types of 'warm stuff' in me. Oh gods now I'm a mutant. I hope I'm not blue and furry, or something. Please don't let me be furry... Then again, I wouldn't have cold feet if I were furry… But back to the more important, non-completely-crazy stuff.
One part was light and easy to manipulate. It gave off that cozy, warm feeling and I had much more of this one than the other. Oddly enough, it gave me impression that it was blue. I promptly named it 'warm blue stuff.' Yeah I am that creative. Sue me.
The other was heavier, denser, and harder to play with and it gave me the sensations of pinpricks on my skin, as if I'd had a whole liter of coffee… It flowed in the veins, and every time I tried to use it, I would end up with an adrenaline rush of such proportions that I was sure it was not healthy to a baby my age. It gave off impressions of wildness, untamed power and blinding bright white. It was hard and took a bit more time, more concentration, and even more giggling, but I succeed in manipulating it anyway. Nothing to do and boredom go ways into helping you focus onto something to do else you go insane. Following my new, and oh so creative and inspired, trend, I named it 'warm white stuff'.
Later, I came to guess that the 'warm stuff one and two' were called chakra.
As time passed, my body grew, my ears opened, and my vision became clear. Unfortunately, it was also as time passed that I came to find that I was screwed three ways to Sunday.
When I was first taken out by 'father' for a sun bath in the early morning light, what I saw almost gave me a heart attack. Yep, ladies and gentlemen, that was not Mount Rushmore up there missing a head and I was not in Kansas anymore.
I was ecstatic at what I saw, and what I realized what it meant. I was a ninja. An honest to gods walking-up-the-walls-and-breathing-fire-mud-wind-lava-and-gods-only-know-the-fuck-else freaking ninja. And to top it all off, I had been born, or reborn as it was, in the best shinobi village to have ever existed. Konohagakure.
I was living a dream!
I was an idiot.
Months after that oh-so-fantastic revelation, a team of three pre-teens and an adult came to our home. A genin team, as far as my knowledge went. I had not seen 'father' for days and now 'mother' was coming down the stairs dressed in a jounin or chunin uniform (what is the difference anyway). It was a bit different of the anime uniforms, the green vest for one was away more bulky and had less pockets, and she didn't wear the blue sweater like thing under it. My older brother was perched on her hip. Poor kid always looked like he stuck his hand in a plug socket, the way his hair defied gravity. If the gods spare any mercy on me at all, please let it be through me not inheriting that hair.
She talked a bit to the strangers in the house gave them a few sheets of paper, put the toddler near me in the padded playpen that took up most of the space in the corner of the living room and looked at us with those warm and pretty blue eyes of hers. She said something in a ridiculous baby-version of that language that I still could not understand, kissed both of our heads, and left through the window.
That was the last time I would see 'mother.'
The funeral of 'mother,' Hatake Naomi-and I use the term "funeral" lightly because there was not a piece of her left to be cremated-I discovered later that an enemy had made an ambush while she was on a mission and killed her. Mother was now nothing more than a few pretty symbols engraved on a piece of polished rock. That day was also the day that my rose tinted dream came crashing down on my head and I realized that ninja life was not fun and games and that people died here. Messily, painfully…lonely… I didn't want that for me. But I didn't think I would have much of a choice. The third great ninja war was coming, and it would spare no one.
My name is now Hatake Mitsuki, younger sister of Kakashi aka Onii-tan, daughter of Sakumo aka the White Fang of Konoha. I'm 8 months and a few days old, my dream is to live to see old age, and this is my fucked up story.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
To be continued…
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX