I don't own Naruto or Bleach. If I did then Toshiro, Shikamaru, and Akamaru would have a lot more screen time. (Alright, I admit that Shika and Shiro had a lot but what about Akamaru? He is awesome!)

On to the story! (Why did I have to start a new story? –hits head on table- CURSE YOU, PLOT BUNNIES! )

Chapter 1: Amnesia

The first thing he felt was cold, the damp kind where it feels like you've been drenched in ice water. His eyes fluttered open revealing cerulean orbs before they squeezed shut again with a groan. After a minute more of lying on the ground, dead to the world, he cautiously opened his eyes again and blinked a few times to get used to the light before surveying his current location.

He was in the dirty back alley of some city. It was just his luck to be positioned in the only place where he would get sun in his eyes in the otherwise dark alley. He glared at the sun even though it was a pointless gesture and winced from the overload of light on his eyes once more.

He pushed himself up into a sitting position but it felt a little strange. He brushed it off for being cramps from lying on the ground before focusing on the more important problem. How did he get here? On second thought, where was here?

He tried to recall what he had been doing that could have possibly landed him in this situation but drew a blank. In fact, he couldn't seem to remember where he should be. With a small amount of panic, he tried to remember anything at all, a name, a face, a past, but ended up with the same answer as before.


Franticly, he searched the alley before rushing over to a broken shard of mirror sticking out of a nearby trashcan. He tried to pick it up, but his fingers felt like they were stuck together and he accidently cut them with the sharp edge. He barely noticed the pain for he was currently staring at his hand. Actually, make that paw.

Where he felt that there should instead be tan, human skin, was instead a tough black pad and curved claws, surrounded by silky orange fur. He tried to wiggle his hand and just like he imagined, the paw did the same, minus the feeling of an opposable thumb. With growing horror, he turned to the shard of mirror and nearly yelped at his reflection.

In the mirror was an orange fox. Black tipped ears twitched on top of a narrow snout. Wide, aqua blue eyes stared at him as he turned to look at the slim tail behind him. He seemed to be around the size of a large dog and his fur was sleek and shiny.

He walked around in a circle, finding it oddly natural yet unfamiliar for his inverted knees to bend backwards before coming forward but it just seemed wrong. His fur, his ears, the freaking tail! It all just felt wrong. Even though he didn't have any memories to go off, it still felt like none of this was the way it should be. When he walked, his knees should go forward, only two limbs should be used for motion, and he definitely should not have a tail!

And there was the amount of hate he had felt when he saw the reflection of a fox. It didn't feel like self hate or hate for foxes in general. Instead, he felt a wave of disgust and for some reason, a small amount of shame. Along with that, he had felt a mixture of relief and confusion when he had spotted his tail. He had unconsciously looked for it first and while he had relaxed when he made sure that there was only one, he couldn't shake the feeling that there was supposed to be more. A specific amount more but he couldn't focus on what it was.

Three? No, that's too low. Six? Eight? An image of a rapping octopus popped into his head, and he snorted before he jolted and tried to remember where that had come from. Nope. He sighed, the sound coming out like a growl. Oh well, I guess it doesn't matter. I only have one tail, the normal amount for a fox. I feel like a raccoon for some reason though.

Deciding to ponder on that weird little tidbit later, he started to trot to the entrance of the alley from which he could pick up a foul smell. He quickly reached the entrance and winced from both the sudden rise in noise and the odor, which now smelled like a very interesting mixture of rotten food and smoke. He covered his nose with his shoulder, trying to lighten the overpowering stench that he was sure was quickly killing off the cells in his nose.

Once his nose had numbed enough, he cautiously lifted his head again, and what he saw made his eyes widen in shock. Rectangular boxes made of different colorful metals and raised off the ground by four wheels were zooming past at unbelievable speeds. If he just stared at one spot then the machines would just pass by in a blur. Spying a person inside of one left the fox gawking. How do they not crash that? It's like a death trap on wheels! He thought as he began to walk around the still unknown city. Not to mention loud. This highly sensitive smell and hearing was going to be the death of him.

Trying to ignore his throbbing ears and overloaded nose, he stared at the strange city and tried to recall any possible memories from this polluted, gray place. But his efforts brought forth nothing except for a weird sense of pride when he saw the leaves on one of the few, small trees surviving amongst the cement. Now he was even more curious and bewildered by his past. What kind of life did he have that made him proud of leaves?

He continued walking down the thin, gray road, not even noticing as bewildered people stared at him and backed away as he walked past. Suddenly, his head snapped up (startling the people near him), and he started to run as fast as he could through the masses of people. Cutting through the thick odor of pollution was a beautiful fragrance. Words couldn't describe how much he longed to find the source of that wonderful scent that was like Heaven on Earth to him.

He pushed past people, jumped over obstacles and raced across the larger, black road with the death traps on it. Finally, he stopped, panting, as he feasted his eyes upon the small restaurant from which the fragrance originated. A wooden sign with a drawing of a bowl filled with noodles announced the name of the restaurant in proud katakana. He ignored the new question of why he could read when he was a fox and instead focused on the smaller and plainer sign displayed on the window. Sale for today only! It announced. Buy the beef ramen and get free toppings of seaweed, fishcake, and herbs!


No. Not fishcake. It's… I'm… Uzumaki Naruto!

And that's when the deathtrap ran me over.

Hello! Welcome to Ironic Fate #1! (Please notice: the initials spell IF this is not a coincidence…) I have wanted to do this story for so long but I'm scared of butchering it with my bad writing. So please review and critique so I know how I did!

I've been planning this story ever since I got into Fanfiction and these great animes. I actually have a document filled with just my notes for this and it has breached the 5000 word barrier. This story was largely inspired by Vulpes Alveus by Kitsune-242 and another story I can't mention at this time because it would give the plot away. But you should look up Kitsune's story, it's really good!

Anyways, this chapter was short but the next ones will be longer so don't worry and remember this. Reviews= Inspiration! Inspiration! = Updates :D So please review!