Chapter Text
To be honest, death was a complete and total letdown. like opening up a present on your birthday only to find socks and a cheesy t-shirt that you'll never wear.
I thought as I drifted through the vast expanse of the bottomless void, that it *could* be worse? I didn't die by taking a bullet in place of someone else, nor perish from some incurable disease.
I had slipped on a barbie and broken my neck on some stairs.
It was pathetic, shameful, lame, and all other synonyms that you could think of. But , I stress to the void. Still, could be worse . At least I'm not being barbequed alive by sexy demons in a hellish wasteland for all eternity. Like I probably deserved .
Oh that’s some serious self-loathing home skillet. Let's not think about that right now.
The silence was deafening, and the pitch blackness carried on seemingly forever in all directions. I couldn't exactly feel my body per se, it was just like my consciousness kinda, existed .
Suddenly, there was a blinding flash of light, making me try to shut my eyes, but naturally it didn't work because the universe hates me. There was a sharp, tugging pull that made it feel as my whole body was being subjected to becoming a human pretzel. But surprisingly it wasn't in the direction of the light like one would’ve expected.
It seems that whatever force was trying to tear my nonexistent arms off like one of those medieval torture devices wanted to bring me deeper into the void.
I considered resisting it, but then thought what the hell , and let myself be yoinked away, the light receding further and further until it was but a speck in the distance.
Before I could start to question where it was taking me, there was another flash of light, but this time white, hot agony followed it, coursing through my entire being and making me scream out in pain. The agony seemed to last forever, but it was only a few moments before I was sitting up in an unfamiliar bed, in an unfamiliar room.
Gasping for breath, I sag over, scratching at my neck and face. Everything felt so wrong , and my skin felt tight and itchy. Tears streamed down my flushed face, and I gag, before throwing up. It was gross, and stained the surrounding blankets and the front of my shirt.
Trying not to think about it, I threw the covers off and tried to stand up, only to fall out of the bed and onto the cold, hard flooring. I let out a weak groan and felt bile rise in my throat again, but I swiftly choked it down. I would not die again by suffocating on my own vomit. Thank you very much.
“What the… actual fuck.” I hiss, too tired to try getting up, and ultimately resigned myself to just laying there for the rest of my new miserable existence. Besides, the floor felt nice against my hot, over-sensitive skin.
Was I sick or something? Never mind that I was alive . Like, I vividly remembered dying. Unless I was only knocked unconscious somehow? Wouldn't that be ironic, to survive getting my neck snapped in half only to die a few days later from some kind of flu?
Is this a hospital room? God, I hope it is. It feels like I just got run over by a semi-truck and then shoved through a meat grinder. Can I get compensation for being an absolute, oblivious dumbass?
The door to the room opened, and I heard someone gasp, before I felt my body being lifted and cradled against a warm chest. I groan, then hiss again when the fabric of her kimono rubbed against my reddened skin. It was painful, and it felt like my entire body was being stabbed by pins and needles.
“My poor baby, are you alright? Oh dear, you're running a fever!” she frets, and my face is tilted up so that I could see the woman's face. She was so beautiful, with dark, ebony hair that framed her refined, worried face.
She was distinctly Asian in appearance, and through the blistering haze that clouded my mind, I realized that she was speaking in Japanese. At least, I thought it was Japanese, but the thing that stood out the most was the fact that I could understand her . I didn't know the first thing about speaking Japanese- Let alone any other language besides English! but I could understand her with clarity only native speakers could grasp.
Somehow that didn't worry me as much as it should have, and I vaguely noted that my prone and exhausted self was now being carried somewhere. Who cares? It’s warm, I’m in the arms of this nice woman, and I’m completely drained despite just waking up. Feeling nauseous again from the sudden movement, I struggle not to gag. Everything felt so wrong, and my vision spun as I hoped and prayed to not throw up on this kind woman. Was I always this small and weak?
As much as I fought to keep my eyes open, I equally just stopped caring, and after a few more minutes of struggling with myself, I succumbed to my tiredness and fell back into the loving arms of unconsciousness.
Itachi was… worried, terribly so, to say the least. When he got word that his brother was sick with a high fever, he rushed home, and wouldn't take no for an answer when the guard stationed outside the door tried to get him to calm down. He hurried into the room and over to his brother’s bedside, where his mother was standing, looking just as concerned as he felt.
“Sasuke?” he fretted nervously, unsure what to do. Itachi’s ‘mother hen’ instincts coupled with his ‘brother-complex’ really weren't helping him feel calm in this situation.
“I thought he just had a small cold, so I put him to bed to sleep it away, but when I returned he was on the floor and burning up,” Mikoto says in a soft tone as to not disturb Sasuke. He looks so small and fragile, usually pale skin flushed with illness.
“Will he be ok?” Itachi says calmly, though he doesn’t seem to be doing that good of a job at hiding how he felt. His mother puts a gentle hand on his shoulder.
“It’s normal for kids his age to get sick like this,” she says, sounding like she’s trying to convince herself more than him.
Moments of consciousness were few and far between and were always accompanied by feeling like absolute shit . It felt like a tight pit of magma was burning me from the inside, eating up tender flesh and leaving my whole body feeling like an open wound. My stomach is what hurt the most, it's where the burning fire originated, which spread to the rest of my body and made skin flush an unhealthy shade of red all over.
When the fever finally broke, it was an immense relief, but at the same time, I could now feel every little thing wrong with my body, to overly sensitive skin that made me start crying when what I presume was a hospital gown brushed against it, to the sharp cramps in my stomach that made me wince with every small movement or breath I took.
However, surprisingly, I wasn't alone during it. I remember feverishly that someone had stayed by my bedside and was there every time I woke up, but I couldn't make out any of their features through the haze. All I knew about my guardian angel was that they had a nice, calming voice, which helped me focus on them rather than the pain.
Finally, finally the next time I opened my eyes it wasn’t met with blurry vision. I was staring up at a white ceiling, and could hear the soft lull of voices discussing something on the other side of the room.
“Ch- ka exhaustion- over- bund- spirit-”
I huff, irritated that I couldn’t make out coherent sentences.
Of course I was exhausted , duh, but the other snippets of words didn’t make any sense.
“Oh, he’s awake.” a man noted, and suddenly the other person rushed over to the bed. It was the woman from before. In all honesty, I thought I imagined her at first, but she was definitely hundred percent real.
“My precious baby, are you feeling alright? Do you need some water?” she asks, words gentle and soothing as she takes a filled glass that was resting on the bedside table and holds it up to my chapped lips.
I try not to choke as a gulp it down, kept steady by her other hand on my back. Compared to how I was feeling earlier, something to soothe my sore throat was a godsend.
“Your brother was very worried about you- we all were.” she smiles ruefully, rubbing circles through the cotton hospital gown. “But you’re going to be alright, ok? Everything is fine now my sweet son.”
Son?
I frowned, but before I could ask her to elaborate, the doctor came over to stand beside the bed with a clipboard and pen.
“Uchiha Sasuke, how are you feeling?” he asks in a way too chipper voice, clipping the pen against the paper a few times. “Any symptoms? You were out of commission for quite a few days young man! Sure glad the worst of it is out of the way, eh?”
I stare at him with a mixture of disbelief and stupidity.
Did he just call me Uchiha Sasuke?
“Of course besides the fever, there was also chakra exhaustion, and when we ran a diagnostic, it was found that you have an unusually high amount of spiritual chakra for your body! Luckily it’s nothing detrimental, but it could have attributed to why you suddenly felt so ill.” he continued.
“It was like your body suddenly produced a large quantity of it all at once, which created an imbalance in your system. After that, your body seemed to draw on it to try healing itself when your system was thrown all out of wack, which explains the chakra exhaustion. It tired itself out trying to accommodate it. It’s a good thing it evened out eventually, so you shouldn’t have any problems besides managing your chakra a bit different from other academy students for jutsus.”
Was he being serious right now?
“Of course, there’s never been a case quite like yours before, so there’s a lot of unknowns. We also found unusually high brain activity, which points towards a fast development and handling of knowledge at incredible speeds. You’re a special boy, young Uchiha.”
Jutsus? Charka? Uchiha? What -
“Mikoto-san, if it would be alright with you, I want to keep him here a few more days at least to monitor any sudden changes. His condition is still considered fragile, so it’s best to run a few more tests and not to overwhelm him with visitors at this stage.”
“I suppose that will be alright,” she says carefully, running her fingers through my sweaty hair. “It’s fine if I have some time alone with him for a minute, isn’t it?”
“Of course! I’ll be out of your hair now. Take care Mikoto-san.”
The door clicked closed, and I’m left staring at Mikoto Uchiha. A naruto character.
How did my life suddenly get so damn complicated all of a sudden?
It turns out that yes, I died and ended up in an anime like all those self-indulgent fanfictions that I used to read. How do I know this despite the obvious? Well, I’m staring at my new face in the mirror.
Luckily it didn’t take much to persuade Mikoto to let me use the bathroom by myself- thankfully- so now I was just stalling for time.
My face was… weird? It was like a child’s, all puffy cheeks and big eyes. Raven-colored hair stuck to my sweaty face and poofed out in the back like I was some kind of mad kiddie scientist.
“So I died and became Sasuke Uchiha- sorry, Uchiha Sasuke - and now I’m stuck in an anime centered around a creepy plant man who starts four wars trying to bring his mommy back home to literally end the world before her psycho cousins do the same.” I stare deadpan into the mirror, expression reflecting the misery I felt.
“At least I can become a ninja wizard like in my most whimsical fantasies?” I add, cringing. “Yeah. Sounds like a plan once I get around to taking a shower.”
I turn on the sink faucet and splash water on my face, trying to rinse the heavy scent of sickness off my skin. After I’m done, I fumble for a towel to wipe my cheeks dry, staring at my reflection again.
“We’re really out here living our best life huh? Escaping from death’s loving embrace in an anime world.”
I crack a mildly disturbing grin.
“Well, I’ve already died once. What’re a few more near-death experiences, eh?”
Ever since Sasuke was brought home from the hospital, he had holed himself up in his room after stealing a few notebooks and pens from Fugaku’s office and refused to come out for the next three days. It was understandable that he’d want to be left alone to recover properly, but it still worried her.
Opening the door a crack, Mikoto peeked into his room, spotting the boy on the floor with paper sprawled out on either side of him. Crude drawings of people getting stabbed were on the first few that she could see, but she chalked it up to something boys his age do.
“Sasuke, sweetheart, dinner’s ready. Do you want me to bring it up to your room?” she intoned softly, drawing his attention.
“Yes ma,” he replies quietly, causing her to smile.
“Alright dear, I’ll be back in a minute,” she says, closing the door once more before starting down the hallway.
What her son was up to, she hasn’t the slightest idea, but she’s glad that he’s picked up a hobby to do while he’s recovering.
“According to the plot of Naruto, the massacre happens when I’m supposed to be like, seven?” I hum, making a new bullet point in English on the parchment.
“And I look around five? Yeah, five. Which leaves me with like, give or take two years to stop the brutal slaughter of my new family. Isn’t that fantastic?”
I sigh, flopping down on my back and scattering a few papers across the room. It doesn’t matter, I’ll get them later.
“Could be worse.” I croak, closing my eyes so I didn’t have to stare at the huge obnoxious Uchiha fan painted on the ceiling.
Everything could have been worse. I could’ve stayed dead instead of possessing an anime character’s body like some sort of freaky demon. I could have been reborn and stuck as a stupid baby for the first two years of my life! It’s a miracle I’m alive at all, to be honest. I shouldn’t take anything for granted ever again.
Speaking of life, where the fuck was the real Sasuke? Did his soul yeet itself from his body like ight im gonna head out when I took over? Was he still… here?
“Hello?” I whisper to the air, frowning when I get no response in return. Well, that can’t be it at least.
I couldn’t remember jack from my own memories besides my newly gained phobia of barbie dolls or stairs, and even less from whatever Sasuke’s life was like before I got forcibly stuffed in this meat suit. Whatever high power slapped me in here must be having a hearty laugh at my absolute confusion and agony.
The only thing that came back to me with certain clarity was the Naruto lore- which seems like a bs plot device but I digress. It would certainly come in handy, but the whole situation was no less mentally exhausting to wrap my head around.
I groan. Why couldn’t I have woken up in My hero instead? Tokyo Ghoul? Ok no, scratch that. I wouldn’t last a minute there.
But snuggling up with Hideyoshi or Kaneki would be dope not gonna lie. It might even be worth the potential cannibalism.
Anyway, that leaves me to the present. Stuffed full of Mikoto’s delicious food, mind empty, back on the floor.
Being Sasuke essentially made me a main character, or even a protagonist of this convoluted ninja world, which meant that encountering the plot would be unavoidable.
Why couldn’t I have been stuffed into someone like Sakura? At least with her, becoming a civilian and living out my days in solitude in the woods would have been an option. Actually, that probably wouldn’t even have been something I could’ve done either. Sakura is a main character too. Ugh .
Doesn’t the act of existing as an Uchiha mean that I have, essentially, a massive target on my back from the moment of birth? Orochimaru was one name that came to mind, but who else in this cursed world would try to kill me and take my eyes for the crime of existing in their general vicinity? Oh, yeah, Danzo . Eye collector extraordinaire. Old guy with a grudge and no love life or moral compass to speak of.
Wait… that bastard killed my favorite character! Or… would kill, and he would kill a person, because that *character* is now a living and breathing whole ass person in this world.
Shit.
Ok ok, let’s get back on track.
Goal.
Aim for a better outcome for all the wrong, selfish reasons, and be a good person.
Uh, that’s sort of contradictory, isn’t it?
I wiped a hand down my face, cracking open my eyes to glare at the offending uchiwa on the ceiling.
What was my game plan? Wing it? If anyone found out about my foreknowledge…
Well, I’d be screwed sideways, to put it bluntly.
All it would take would be for a Yamanaka to go snooping through my mind to literally bring about the end of the world. But isn’t that the appeal of a magical world? The risks? The passion? The friends you make along the way?
I snort. Maybe I can save the world through the magic of friendship.
I pause.
Actually, that might work. I’m a genius .
All that’s left now is to finish constructing the rest of my plan, write it down in a notebook, and follow it. Simple.
I’d make the notebook frilly and pink and write ‘Sasuke’s diary’ on the cover to prevent snooping. Besides, it’d be in English anyway, so it’s like I have my own secret language that no one else can decipher.
Yes, that could work. It will work.
.
.
.
All that’s left now is to figure out what the fuck chakra is.
Sticking a leaf to your forehead is… harder than it looks.
Sure, the anime made it look easy, but it’s not. Every second of concentration must be centered on that leaf. Feel the natural energies of the leaf. Become the leaf. Exist as the leaf.
A moment of lapse in concentration made it all come crashing down.
Ok, that sounded dramatic. The leaf stops sticking to you and falls to the floor when you don’t think hard enough.
It was pretty challenging stuff. Required one hundred percent of your brain juice to work the way it should.
Turns out that chakra is slippery, like goo. Only through a practiced hand can you mold it into the shapes you desire, which in turn becomes stuff like fire that you can shoot out of your mouth.
Apparently, hand signs help shape the chakra into ways that produce the same effect, which makes zero sense. How can twisting your hands a certain way change the flow that your chakra is going inside your body? It’s stupid, useless, and this whole exercise is wearing me out.
Maybe it would be easier if I had someone helping me, but I’m supposed to still be recovering from my devastating illness , so asking was off the table.
But it’s fine, I can figure it out on my own. It would just be less frustrating if the leaf. Stayed. On. My. Forehead.
When said leaf once again defied gravity and was blown away from my face by an invisible wind inside my room , I gave up.
I’ll try again tomorrow.