Guntz: This is a rewritten version of HSHHAS because I suddenly had new ideas of what I could do with this character. Not a lot has changed, but you will find some influences of other anime, just not too much for you to lose interest in this story. What I have made in this story with Yamagakure's build up is something that's been invented just a month ago when I had read some updates of the Naruto manga. A specific story had caught my web of intrigue and now I plan to utilize it to a full potential, and this not just my only announcement!


I plan on writing a series of this story to be intertwined with another Naruto fic I plan on writing once the series ends and all my plots are tweaked to perfection (sort of, but you get the idea). Guys, you have no idea how badly I want to get this out and tell you straight to your faces what's going to be happening in the future of this story and the other, but I don't want to spoil it! Anyway, I hope you like the rewritten version better than the last (to be honest with you, I went over the story and kind scrunched my face at it that I had the need to do a make-over with it until it sat right with me).

Thank you for taking the time to read, I promise you for what I have stored for you readers you will be blown away (well, I like to hope that you will be).

p.s. should I change my username Guntz to something else?





Was reincarnation real?


Well, not at first anyway.

I still had hard times believing it now and then. I had believed that when people died that they either went up to see pearly white gates or ended up in hellfire with brimstone. I was raised in a household where I was told to ignore pagan heathens and outright disregard people who bragged about living in a Godless universe.

At this point, you all must be wondering where this is all going, right?

Well, to tell the truth, I'm not so sure where this is going. All I could remember was sitting in the shades from the dreadful heat. It befuddled me how the people of Ghazni could handle such conditions without resulting in many people falling from heatstroke. Then all of a sudden, there was gunfire and explosions, and I was too late to do anything.

'Fucking ISIS!'

I struggled to keep my bloody intestines that were halfway sticking out of my belly, but I knew I was done then and there—my fear just prevented me from realizing that.

Those were my last thoughts when everything, from the heat, the bright sun, the dusty world, and everything in between, began to blur and mesh together until they were unrecognizable. The sounds of my brothers giving their war cries as they open fired upon their enemy faded away into dull silence, and my vision fell like a curtain signaling the end of a play.

And then, the rest was history and the story ended for me there.





Except, it didn't. Not my story, anyway.



No all powerful God to welcome me into His eternal Paradise; no Devil to cackle as he ripped me apart before casting my feeble soul into eternal Hellfire. There was nothing waiting for me on the other side of death.

I felt cheated.

It was like being told by my dad that if I was good and did my chores, I would earn myself a prize. Being the gullible child I was, I did as I was told... only to find out that there was nothing waiting for me at the end of the day and it was all ruse for my dad to teach me a lesson on how to be a responsible, growing boy.

But this? This was overkill.

I was standing in the Nothing! Was this really what comes after death?! Was this truly the great Beyond that everyone had talked about for so many millions of years?! I wanted to be angry, I wanted to scream, pull my hair, and shout curses up to the non-existed sky where there was no God or Devil waiting for me—

A ripple

Somehow, there was someone.

They stood too far away for me to see them clearly, even if I squinted. The person was just watching me while standing completely still, he wasn't even subtly swaying like most normal people did. I wondered if this was a spirit coming to take me to wherever I was designated to go, and I looked around wondering if this was something of a waiting room for the dead.

The silhouette retained in the distance remained far away, not moving an inch in my direction, and continued to stare at me.

I went ahead and called out to them, but there was no voice for me to use. It wasn't the kind of quiet that let out small chokes for trying to scream, more like someone pressed the mute button and left me tone deaf. In fact, when I observed a little closer, I noticed I couldn't feel anything. No lips, no fingers twitching, no nothing. It was as if my mind was here but my body was nowhere to be found in the vast darkness. I was a disembodied spirit made of air, and my unseen eyes could only watch.

The thought scared me. I tried to move, but I couldn't tell if I moved at all or not. I couldn't feel, I couldn't see through the darkness, I couldn't say anything, and the person was just standing there! Oh, God, what is this place was my personal Hell?

What if this was the Oblivion?

The Void could not hear my frantic screams.

But they made ripples of the nearly obscured still water beneath me.

The shadowy figure that had done nothing but stand like a statue in the darkness surrounding me swept a single arm in a vertical arc-like fashion. The ripples that I created were suddenly intertwined by the ripples the shadowy stranger made. I watched as the other ripples came closer and closer, looking as though they were growing past my smaller ones until they brushed against my toes—

'Oh,' I blinked in wonder.

I could feel my toes.

And then nothing.

It was like waking up from a deep sleep, a slow and seeping awareness that didn't register for a long while. When I finally did come to consciousness, I felt scatterbrained and somewhat dazed. My mind felt so warped, that I had to take my time in trying to regain my composure. Once I was coherent enough to comprehend the situation I was in, I noticed several things.

It was dark.

Everything felt wet and sticky, like swimming in jello.

And I was buck naked.

While I was happy that I didn't feel like a bodiless conscious floating in the space of nothing, I was still mortified of the whole thing. Various thoughts between sick people and idiots playing pranks on me came and went through my head while I tried to maneuver myself to someplace other than in this space of Jell-O. My limbs, however, were sluggish and barely lifted fingers on my closed fists. It took nearly a minute for me to finally move a finger, but the other digits couldn't follow up to the motion.

'What the hell?' I thought as I tried to move my fingers. 'Am I on drugs?'

I couldn't be, my brain argued, otherwise the drugs would have left my mind in a state of unclarity. It felt like I was being partially paralyzed, or coming out of the paralysis, yet my mind was clear of any effects of drugs. Besides the concerns of being barely able to move, another problem surfaced: why did I feel like I was under water (very sticky water, mind you) and yet remain under without the hassle of coming up for air?

'Was I dreaming?' came a brief thought as I looked around as much as my head allowed. It would have made much sense since my body could be lying down and just barely twitching because me dream-self was having troubles moving. But it felt too real... the streets of some city in Iraq couldn't possibly be part of the dream.

The explosions, the rapid hail of gunfire, the tear gas billowing in the air, the people screaming all around, and the blood staining the dirt streets as my fingers clutched to keep all of my insides from coming out. No! It was not a dream. It couldn't be!

Where was I then? What was this place? What the hell was happening?!

'Am I... am I even alive?'

That question made my insides freeze.

Feeling more and more confused and afraid, I struggled to move so I could find a way to escape this dark bubble that encased me. The disgust and horror motivated my semi-limp limbs to brush my fingers against the slimy surroundings, and I nearly recoiled from the touch. It was sliding my fingers against something could have been described as a slippery fish skin.

A moan.

I ceased my struggled, remaining completely still when I listened in on the sound. I could feel the noise, too! It was like an echo with vibrations that followed after, touching everything along the way until it bounced off of me.

Someone was there!

It was a struggle just to get my mouth open, and I was ready to give a shout... but nothing came. Frustration and anger started to build up from within me; everything from being barely able to move my body to becoming a total mute, it was like some sick and twisted game that was jerking at my chains with cruel intent, and I was so sick of it.

'Let me out, goddamn you!'

With barely any strength, a singly foot pushed against the slick walls surrounding my strange and dark prison, ignoring the ticklish tingles that were left behind. I almost missed someone from outside giving a sound. It sounded pained, and I was worried that wherever I was, was not a good place to be.

What if I had ended up surviving after all? And what if I ended up being the prisoner of war to those head-lopping extremists?

'Fuck, why both saving me if you're just gonna kill me later on?' I thought morbidly.

Still, there was a gut-feeling telling me that I wasn't in such an imprisonment at all, and this predicament was something else entirely. Not one to simply give up because of strange circumstances, I pushed my feet up against the slimy walls that seemed to swallow both of my feet as I push them deeper.

I was startled when a muffled and pained cry echoed, penetrating deep within my flesh and bones.

'Jesus, what the fuck?!'

Was someone hurting the person on the other side of the walls? All of a sudden, the dark bubble around me began to quake and quiver like a small earthquake. Beyond bewildered, the darkness that served as a strange but secure place began to close in on me like a blanket that was becoming too tight for my tastes. It was becoming harder to breathe, and everything began to hurt, and, and—oh, God, was I screaming?

I could do nothing as the tightness coiled around me like a snake trying to suffocate while simultaneously grind me into smithereens. I couldn't move, the tightness and strangulation building up the terror within me, and I waited every agonizing second for the whole thing to be all over and done with.

Suddenly, I wasn't being squeezed to death, and my bare, wet body was exposed to coldness.

And the screaming stopped.

From my fear-induced mind, I failed to realize I was out of danger and that my cold, wet, and naked body could almost easily fit on the palm of an adult male's hand.