Summary: There is darkness in the path of life. Anger, hatred, despair; these are just the beginning. Yet, there is also light at the end. There is love between two different people or the love that is shared between a parent and their child. Darkness may never disappear in life but knowing that there is light at the end helps make living a little bit more bearable.
Fourth Update: June 27, 2017
May 2017 A/N: Hi! This story is my first and god, it's bad. I'll be rewriting the entire story, starting with the beginning, so if you notice that the first few chapters are decently well and the chapters after that are horrible, do not worry! Those chapters will be updated as soon as possible! And if, by chance, you can't read this crap, please go read some of my newest stories. They're not that bad and I think they're pretty well written.
Anyways, godspeed guys!
DISCLAIMER: I do not own Naruto and its characters. It is respectfully owned by Kishimoto. I only own Haruka any other OC.
"I choose to love this time for once with all my intelligence."
Adrienne Rich, Splittings
In Time
01: Beginnings
In death, many wish for it to be quick and painless—and the truth? Some are lucky and do die quick and painless, a type of death many strive for. Yet, there are those who are not lucky, those who just happened to pull the short end of the stick. These people are the ones who experience pain in their last moments, whether it be internally or externally. I envy those who died happy and without hurt.
Can you guys how I died?
I was murdered, straight and simple.
Not by some stranger either. No, the person who killed me was, well, my father. That's how my short story ended; stabbed to death in a bout of drunken anger. I was still so...young, never been able to do things that many take for granted. I had wanted a family that I could truly love—I wanted to have my first kiss and I wanted to get married, have kids.
These thoughts, like the devil on your damn shoulder, tormented me as I bled on the linoleum of the kitchen floor. With every beat of my dying heart, a tear fell for something I would never experience.
I had a sad life. Not many friends, no family besides the man who had just murdered me.
You know what is even worse? The initial shock of being stabbed by my father had disappeared within seconds of it happening. I had grown up in a troubled household, things being thrown and shouted, words that a normal father would never say.
Life is...ironic, in a way. My father was, I guess, a normal dad when I was younger. Things only change because life changes, whether it be for good or for worse.
Born 20 years ago, I once had a mother and father that had loved me. I once had a father that would push my back on the swing and I once had a mother that would brush my hair and play dolls with me. Life is cruel though; they took her away from me too soon. I needed her—we needed her. My father mourned her for so long...and I was still so young, too naive to truly understand what had happened. I had thought that with time, my father would emerge from the shell he had become and start living again. I had thought that he would get better because that is what every said to me. They told me that he would be okay, that he just needed the one thing that everyone needs: time.
If only they saw me now.
Clearly, they were wrong.
He would have a drink here and there, a cup of whiskey or a bottle of beer. As years passed, it had escalated to where he'd breeze through an entire bottle of god knows what in about an hour. Then he'd just...do it again.
Enough of this, I don't want to talk about my childhood. There is nothing but...bad in those memories.
I wish...I wish that I had been able to have a better life. A father that cared for me, a mother that was alive. So many things...yet not enough time. There was so much I regretted…
In truth, I wished that I was loved.
Maybe, if I do get that second chance some talk about, I wish I could be reborn so I could live my life over.
And of course, in some ironic way, my wish was granted.
The moment I breathed my last, all I saw was darkness. Not that darkness that your eyes could adjust too—no, it was that spine chilling, creepy darkness that makes you want to hide under your covers while your nightlight is on. You could see nothing, not even your hand. It also didn't help that wherever I was, I was suspended in something that had felt warm, yet cold. I couldn't even keep time in whatever hell hole I was too.
And time went on—at least, I think it went on.
But today...something felt different. It felt like something big was going to happen, that something was finally going to change. Maybe I'm finally moving on, going to a better life. I was never religious so I didn't know if there was such a thing like heaven or hell. But as I looked around, I noticed there was this little spot of light. I went towards it but as I got nearer and nearer, I felt something constricting my body instead. The moment I touched the light, I was sucked in and I—
Screamingfallingpainsoundsfeelingthelight—
I opened my eyes and took a deep breath to scream, but all that came out of my mouth was… a wail? I quickly closed my mouth, terrified of what just happened. That couldn't have come from me, right? That's impossible. I tried to move but my body wouldn't listen to me, nothing was working. I couldn't see, I couldn't hear very well, I couldn't move. Yet there was something vaguely familiar about that...cry.
It sounded like...a baby?
...A baby.
Oh my god a baby.
I'm a goddamn baby.
Nonononono-
Beginnings
Be careful for what you wish for.
I mean, I did wish to be reborn. At the same time, I could complain and complain, but there was remotely nothing I could do to fix my current predicament.
Sure, I may have had a small—and I emphasis the small—mental breakdown earlier, but could you truly blame me? It isn't like you're prepared for any of this.
So...there wasn't anything else for me to do besides accepting my fate as a newborn baby.
Also? Being a baby sucks ass. I hate it with a passion. You can't see, you can barely hear, you can't move—it's a horrible thing for an adult inside of an infant's body. I craved for anything, any type of stimulation because I was starting to go crazy.
The first time I met my parents—actually I take that back, a parent, as it seemed that a father was nonexistent in my life once more. How do I know this, you may ask? Particularly because I could not see? Call it an intuition of mine.
Also because the only person holding be was someone who kept shoving their breast in my mouth.
...It's as awkward as it sounds.
The first time I met this person, I couldn't see to save my life. All I could see were moving blobs of color, something that terrified me. But I could tell that I was being held by someone with love. The way they held me with this...tenderness, it was almost like this person already loved me and cared for me. My new life may not be that bad.
I thought...that this actually could be a good thing.
After a few days at the hospital—I'm guessing a few days because being a baby also meant falling asleep at random times—I was soon in a place that I would call a home in the future. The only thing I could comprehend was that I was being carried and moved. I couldn't be sure of time anymore, like I said, I was constantly sleeping. I was a baby after all; I think I read somewhere that they slept a lot?
As much as I was being held, I knew it was only by the same person. The way that person carried me, it just had to be my mother. I could never forget that feeling of being held by her the first time. I never felt the presence of my new father. I can't really explain it, but I just knew. I didn't care much about it though, I'm pretty sure I can survive without a new dad.
I mean...I've already had my fair share of experiences with one anyways.
Anyways, the first time I saw my new mother, I couldn't see to save my life. From afar—but I'm guessing it wasn't that far—she happened to simply be a blob of moving colors. But time went on, and as my eyesight cleared, certain things about her just creamed...my mother.
Because I was a baby again, that meant I needed to relearn all of my body functions—both inside and out, if you know what I mean. I don't really want to explain what happened in the first few months. It wasn't the best for me; it brought what little pride I had down even lower.
At least I could see again. As my eyesight got better, I soon was able to notice my surroundings. And you know what? The first person I saw was my mother. The only word I could think of for her was beautiful. She had hair that was white as fresh snow and eyes the color of a rose. Was it even possible to have these colors naturally? Wait, that didn't matter. My mother was beautiful, inside and out. I could tell with the way she looked at me and cared for me. She would carefully pick me up from my crib and hold me. She would sometimes sing to me, something that would calm me down.
Now that, as nice as it may sound, kind of annoyed me. I mentally cursed this body; it was like I was starting to become an actual baby.
Now, I've heard my mother sing to me many times, and I didn't care about what she was singing. I never paid attention. But when she first talked to me when I was paying attention, imagine the shock that came when she started speaking in Japanese. I nearly peed my pants—or diaper, whatever—that time.
That meant I could catch onto the language faster, thank god. I took Japanese all throughout high school, something that I was pretty proud of.
My mind, having nothing to do, would wander during these few months, as just my luck, it wandered to my other parent. I would wonder time to time if I had a dad. It was always my mother and this strange man with silver hair. I knew he wasn't my father, I could tell. I dreaded those days though because every single time he came, he brought along a boy around my age. He was a cute kid; his silver hair—yes, you read this right, silver hair—was so much fun to play with. I don't know how but I was sure that it defied the laws of gravity. I swear, no hair is supposed to stick up like that.
He also reminded me of someone though; I just couldn't put my finger on who.
But then one day, a man suddenly came into my room. I don't know how but I automatically knew this was my father. It wasn't a mental reaction, it was more of a physical reaction, if that made sense. Don't ask me how, I just had like that weird feeling. He picked me up—not quite gently though—and walked out of my room to the backyard outside, to my dismay.
So my first experience outside wasn't the greatest. I was once again with that silver haired boy watching a butterfly. Then out of nowhere, a big sound came from the buildings surrounding the house and scared little silver boy next to me, causing him to burst out crying and because of my baby hormones, I too started crying. By the time our parents came out to console us, he was pulling on my white hair—yes, once again, you read right, I had white hair—while I was pulling on his, causing us to scream and cry once again.
Hmm...maybe I was abino? I had really pale skin, after all.
The day my father took me outside was the second time I've ever been out.
Although this totally deviates from the current topic, I need to mention that my parents are die-hard Naruto fans. Not that it bothered me but I would see my mother wear an outfit that came from the anime—I got nothing against cosplay though. You see, I mention this because my father was wearing the standard uniform for shinobi in the village of Konoha—ya know, the vest thingy? Yeah, he was wearing that.
As my father placed me on the grass, he stared at me and I returned his stare for few seconds. I got very uncomfortable, so I started looking and crawling around. I watched a butterfly flying around and I saw a mountain that was very close to my house.
Hmm...I should give him a shot, shouldn't I? Looking at my father, I pointed to it, hoping he'd catch on to what I wanted.
Huh, well what'dya know, he caught on.
Picking me up, he pointed to the same thing I did. "Haruka, you see that mountain? The one with three faces? It's the Hokage Monument, and those faces you see are the Hokage's. They are the strongest shinobi of this village. I'm a shinobi. That's why I wasn't home. But I was protecting the people and the village. I was protecting you and mommy. But mommy is also a shinobi. Did you know that?"
...What?
What?
Huh…? Hokage? Shinobi?
Wait a second...I tried to process this. I was reborn in Konoha? So...Naruto? As in…that manga? That Japanese manga that I read whenever I was feeling bored?
No, no no nonononono-
I'm guessing that weird feeling in me is chakra then. Goddamn it, when I asked to be reborn, I didn't mean in a fictional story.
What the hell do I do now?
Beginnings - End
A/N: SO this is my first story. Like, ever. There may be some grammar errors, vocabulary errors, etc. Just tell me and I'll try to fix them. I hope you enjoyed this story so far! I'll be updating it as soon as I can because chapter 2 is already in progress :) Please leave a review and follow/favorite! :) Have a wonderful day.
Edited: 03.06.15
2nd Edit: 03.17.15
3rd Edit: 08.03.15