STORY SUMMARY: Being reborn into a Japanese story was bad enough. Being reborn as the twin sister to a certain notorious mass murder, was another thing entirely. Told in a series of drabbles. Warning: Mild incest themes.

Rating: T (Subject to change)

GENERAL DISCLAIMER: It's not my sandbox. I'm just playing in it.


Chapter One : Rebirth

The morning I died, my alarm was busted and I woke up fourteen minutes late. I suppose I could have skipped shaving my legs or that bagel with schmear to cut down on time. But I didn't. Funny how snap decisions like those are what ultimately lead to my death. Kind of pathetic, really. I'd always wanted to go out with a bang. Instead I got run down by a bicyclist on the wrong side of the road. Though, in all fairness, that wasn't what killed me. He just knocked me into the street where a school bus did the dirty work. Then after that it was lights out.


Death. What can I say about death? Well, to begin with—there's a whole lot of nothing. Yup, you heard that right. Nothing. No pearly gates. No bottomless pit of fire. And no welcoming committee of deceased relatives. Instead I was suspended, floating. Twisting and turning but never really moving. The experience can be summed up in three words. Blank. Black. Numb. But also, motion-sickness. So make that four.


I don't know what it was about dying that made thinking so hard. But it did. Thoughts; sluggish. Speech and coherent emotions; abysmal. I couldn't even work up the energy to care that my life had come to a premature end. That I'd never see my parents or siblings again. My friends. My life. All gone.


How long had I been here. A week? A month? An eternity? I was leaning towards option C. Maybe I was wrong about the afterlife thing and this was limbo. Makes sense.


Still here. But something changed. There was tug, right below where my navel would normally reside, had I still a body. (Which I don't, just to clarify) It feels like a string—and was pulling me forward. It should hurt, but it doesn't.


Somewhere along the way there had been a plunge. Now the string anchored me to a warm encasement of soft flesh and liquid. My mind was too far gone to register anything but comfort.

Tiredness swelled. Odd. When had I last slept? As I drifted off, I vaguely wondered if I'd ever wake up.


I didn't. At least I hadn't yet. Not entirely. Mostly I just dozed. It was better than before at least. Before I couldn't sleep at all. Now I faded in and out of awareness. Though, any awareness I achieved was limited to slight vibrations and muted voices. Was there ever a time this wasn't my reality? I couldn't remember.


Something changed again. It woke me up, but I'd rather it hadn't. All around, in all directions, I was being pushed and shoved. I felt suffocated. It hurt. I hated it, so I struggled. Not a good plan. If anything, moving made the compressions tighten. I hate this. I hate this.

The pressure continued building and then—I was free. But this freedom was even worse. The squeezing pain was nothing compared to the biting cold that greeted me upon delivery. I was blind, my hearing impaired and my body immobile. I could feel hands on my body but they brought me no relief. So I screamed. And screamed.

I think somewhere a baby was crying. I didn't realize it was me.

AN: So for obvious reasons, this story is going to be pretty twisted. You've been warned. Also, because this will be told in a drabble format, chapters will be short but updates will be often.