A/N: Okay I know people are waiting for the Inari Oneshots I promised so I'm taking the piss a bit with this but I just can't seem get back into the Inari character mind-set (if that makes sense O_o) at the moment but don't worry I'm still working on them and sorry again that it's taking so long!

So anyway this is more of a test, this idea has been rattling around for awhile now (even before Inari) but I'm not 100% sold on it so I'm just interested to see what kind of reactions I'll get.

It's the classic OC rebirth thing that I love but there's twists as you'll find out and will eventually veer sharply away from canon. Don't be expecting another Inari because this is a lot more angsty and stuff, if you could review that would be fantastic since all I'm really interested in is knowing whether or not I should continue with this idea.

Sorry about the long ass A/N -.-

I don't own Naruto only the OCs.

1

My name is…

My name is…

My favourite colour…

My birthday….

I was born on…..

I have….

I can….

My name is…

…

There was no transition. I saw no white light and heard no heavenly choir. There was no transition.

I was there, crumpled and weak with my insides all twisted up wrong and hacking up as I'd spent so long doing in that life, and I was pulled. There was no transition. I slipped from that body and began spilling out over the edge into another, from one container to another container trickling out like water between a clenched fist. There was no transition.

Squeezed in, pulled out, and pushed in place, fraying at the edges, loosing pieces in the slow sweep. There were hospital machines marking each pulse of my dying heart then there were bright lights and voices and the smell of heavy rain; and I blinked in and out between both. There was no transition. I was both places and both people then the bowl filled. I sighed and went blind and lost my grip on the one and fell into the other.

There was no transition.

….

Screaming was the first act I committed in this new world. Screaming with new vocals and clenching my fists against the powerlessness I had in it. I had never staked my claim with Gods or religion and I had felt the fear of mortality on that hospital bed. There were voices flitting in and flitting out in an unknown language and I couldn't snatch them. It was cold and I was naked and I was lost and I couldn't grasp anything.

The first thing I felt in this new world was confusion and fear.

….

I was born on 26th August.

I couldn't breathe properly. I never could. Everyone was always so scared I would break.

….

I was born on the 15th December.

My mother died in child birth as many did, I did not know her so I did not mourn her except maybe the things she could have represented; lullabies, some haven warm and safe. That's what a mother is meant to mean, right?

…

I lived with my grandmother most of the time. My parents both worked full time jobs and just couldn't be there, it used to make me cry but then again a lot of things made me cry and I'd sometimes just force it so everyone would stop and attend to me.

My grandfather said I was a baby. But honestly what did they expect from a child that they were too terrified to let grow.

…

I lived with my uncle. My father couldn't look at me and my grandmother was terrified but she tried to hide it well.

My uncle wasn't scared. The others are all worthless. They should know by now that the only thing that matters in Kirigakure is the power for survival. My uncle knew, he wrote the laws in blood.

…...

I died in the summer. I couldn't give you a date; I faded in and out of myself too often in those days that time escaped me. I died how I lived, in a Hospital bed waiting to break. And the only thing I could think was 'is that it?'

…

I was born on the 15th December and finally I could breathe. Whatever theories or memories that had been pulled through were forgotten for the moment, rubbed raw by the great aching hurt inside my stomach. My nerves were on fire and I was drowning but I could breathe and the shadowy voices and shadowy shapes flitting in and out of my senses did nothing to elevate it. I passed those few days alone, shadows hanging above me with bated breath prodding to make sure I still lived. I was cold and scared and naked. I was the pitiful little rat on the scientist's table. And still I hurt. It felt as though something far bigger than me, something with jagged edges and the hot, stinking breath of the monsters underneath the bed was crushed into this tiny space. And it hurt. This was hell. It had to be hell, the divine punishment for a life spent wasting slowly away.

…..

On the fifth day there was a voice and there was warmth and there was cold rain veiling the window. The voice was ushering in the lullabies and ushering out the nightmares so I gripped onto it with what little strength I had. Because I didn't want to be alone in the dark again. Pink eyes looked down at me through the blur and I felt the warmth pull tighter. He did not smile or frown just stared but not at me even though he was looking right at me. I would never gain his attention so easily. The voice kept singing and I wondered if this was the heavenly choir that had been promised.

…

I couldn't tell you when exactly I started crawling free of that place and feeling out for some identity. I couldn't tell you if I believed my situation to be a dream or not simply because I didn't know. There was no time to think on it and the world I'd been dragged into, naked and screaming and still covered in blood, was not a world that allowed you a respite.

I could tell you the first thing I saw (really saw in that chaos) were my uncle's eyes. And the first thing I heard (really heard in the mess of screaming and foreign voices) was my uncle's voice. I don't know if he planned to be that little pocket of soft light in the swirling dark; if he'd planned it from the start to structure my loyalty to him and only him but it didn't matter. I never underestimated the power of fear and I never underestimated the power that thing that saves you from fear has over you.

I was not a terrible baby and I was not a good one. I would sleep most of the time, face scrunched up with the continual discomfort of something heavy sitting on my chest and when I was awake I screamed. I don't think I knew I was a baby then. I wasn't really aware of anything in those first weeks. They'd move me occasionally, feed me, change me but I paid it all no mind. I wish I could say I was curious or rebounded easily from the shock but no. I just lay there, sleeping or screaming, and struck dumb by the impact of my second birth.

I don't think I even believed there was a world outside those four walls. Maybe I had accepted this as some form of purgatory because it felt like that timeless, grey waste that the doomsayers spoke of.

The only respite was those pink eyes.

"Oji-sama," it would speak and I did not know what it meant but felt the force of the command stamped on my tongue.

When I finally left that place and when I finally did start talking months after that those were the first words I spoke and no one was surprised.

….

It wasn't until months after my birth that they finally allowed me leave from the four, concrete walls I'd been born into. By then the scraps had begun to settle and I could finally snatch up the pieces. I had died but I was alive. I had died a fifteen year old but I was living as a baby only three months old. I had died in a world of beeping machines and cars outside hospital windows but I was living in a world shrouded in mist and occupied by harsh faced strangers.

There wasn't really any room for disbelief. I had lived much of my past life in the hands of others, not knowing what they were doing or why so the news strangely enough was allowed to be without questioning. If I had fought it or denied it I still had no arsenal. I could feel the rough woollen material between chubby fingers, hear the rain and smell the smoke of furnaces burning. What could I combat these sensations with? A mantra of 'this is impossible'?

Who was I to judge what was and was not impossible, all I could base it on was my own limited knowledge and in that limited knowledge there was no wisdom of the other side prior to my death. I knew no confines of what is and what is not normal for the afterlife. So I let it be. I allowed the situation to sink in without question or hesitation. This was my situation and there was nothing more to think of it. Besides, a part of me whispered, who didn't want to be someone else. I had been nothing before and I had no grasp of what I was now but I had to be better, there was no way I could be worse.

It was a thought that was tempered slightly by the constant internal pressure this form carried. My new body was always under a sensation of stress. Stress because an anonymous energy was beating through it and against it and I didn't seem to be an adequate conductor. It caused aches and pains, made my body feel worn and crackling with electricity all at once. I tried to vocalise my discomfort and only succeeded in receiving misunderstanding attention. They thought I wanted changing or feeding when in reality I wanted them to lift the force tearing at my seams. Have you ever walked around in a shoe several sizes too small for your feet? I constantly felt like the penny shoved in-between your toes.

The sensation was only relieved by the presence of the pink eyed figure; a creature I was coming to both fear and worship simultaneously. There was something authoritative about the man who spoke in a voice barely above a whisper yet so loud the room fell silent before it. It was power. A pure, unrivalled power that draped over him that broke no argument because you knew instinctively in that primal part of your mind that he could and would destroy you. At that time I didn't know who he was nor could I even see him clearly all I knew was the man owned me.

It was him who carried me out the place; he was the only being who had spent more than scarce minutes in my company. I tried to look out at this new world but all I saw was grey. In fact had I not known he was carrying me and had I not felt the air chilled and biting against the soft skin of my bare face I wouldn't have known I'd left at all. The man stopped as another murky shape came into view. It spoke to him in a language I did not know and did not recognise. The man who held me looked down at me then. It was the first time he had looked directly at me and I felt everything wrapped up inside this body still. The point of those pink eyes was intense as they stared directly at me with no apology and no need for one.

"Ren," the man whispered in reply.

This address stamped an identity. I was not completely beneath his attention. Fear and elation fought for supremacy.

A/N:

So, what did you think? I'd be really greatful if you could drop by a review ^_^ To clear any confusion, Ren is the character's name. She is the daughter of Yagura's , the Fourth Mizukage's, sister and the three tails was planted in her instead of him.

Thanks for reading.