Summary: A self-insert into the Narutoverse. No one simply falls into another world. It doesn't happen. Not normally, at least. Not even rarely. It's an effect, not a cause. I should have known that. The signs were there. The warnings were clear. I should have paid attention. No one falls into another world. No one falls into another world, and returns, I should say. Because I fell, and returning was impossible.

Disclaimer: Naruto is Kishimoto's toy, I'm just violating it.

First Beta: featherstofly

Second Beta: Lavendor Queen

Editor: Sansho

Let me make this perfectly clear.

No one simply falls into another world.

One does not lounge about the couch like any other normal day, watch T.V., and suddenly it's the Ring in reverse. There are no erratic pockets of blue portals, or black holes conveniently placed so that they're floating around Earth. A bolt of lightning isn't going to magically flash you elsewhere. When you die, you aren't going to pop back up, perfectly alive in a whole other realm (or at least I don't think you do). The universe will not rip a hole in the fragile dimensions of space and time only to push someone through at complete random.

Whatever supernatural force, be it God, Shinigami, Jashin, or whoever else, will not aimlessly select a normal person to be the first cross-dimensional ambassador without their consent. Two of the listed above actually do believe in free will, after all, and why the hell would Jashin care about an average and plain person? He seems more likely the type to pick some crazed mass murderer with a flair for dramatic deaths.

The point is, it just does not happen.

Not like that, anyway.

It shouldn't even happen in the first place, really. It's such an absurd idea that if you personally weren't the one experiencing everything, I doubt you would believe it. It would only be some interesting story to you, correct?

It's not.

To me, it's not.

It's horrifying. It's exhilarating. It's damning. It's freeing.

And I got so damn lucky when it did occur to me.

Returning to the point, however; it simply does not just happen. How it decides—how it begins, even now I'm not sure. I've never discovered with certainty the whys and hows. More than likely it was all about being at the right place, at the right time.


My first encounter with the 'other world' was when I was eight and a half.

I wasn't anywhere special, unlike most stories would typically start off as.

I was sitting right in my room.

Right at my bed.

Right before bedtime.

The lights were off, and doors shut. Toys were put away, and clothes scattered about the floor. The window curtains were spread open, allowing the barest of moonlight to creep into the small bedroom.

I had cracked my window open a tiny portion, and I could hear the crickets singing their muse. My family lived on a farm, in a quiet little town. Papa was a mechanic, and Grandpoppy was a farmer his entire life. When Grandmommy passed away, Papa moved us to stay with Grandpoppy and help tend to the farm.

Papa was a good mechanic, I was told. He could find work anywhere.

I didn't really want to go. I was happy in our apartment, with my friends from school. Change was scary to me, then.

We moved within a week, though, in spite of my protests.

It was hard to adjust to the new life. I had lived in a busy city with Papa all of my life prior to moving. It had been the two of us in that little apartment, with Mama coming and going like the wind. At Grandpoppy's, my room was bigger (which was nice), and I had a proper backyard, but I was lonely.

There weren't many children around. The school in town had been closed down long ago due to lack of students, and I would have to take an hour long bus ride every day to go to the nearest public school. It was daunting, and I dreaded it.

I sat in my bed, listening to the crickets sing. It was so much more quiet than what I was used to. My hands gripped the covers tightly, and my brow furrowed. I wished for something to distract me, or something to help me fall asleep. If I had to spend another night restlessly turning about in my bed with nothing but crickets to keep me company, I would lose my mind!

Then it came; a subtle pressure entered the room, making my ears pop. I jumped at the oddity, and felt my stomach begin to knot with nerves.

Naturally at the time, I had no idea that that was the 'other world'.


The voice came about of seemingly nowhere. It was a boy, perhaps a year older than I was from the sound of it. He sounded scared, tired and in pain; the voice was quiet and raspy. It was difficult to hear, muffled almost, yet I heard it with clarity through my head. The contradiction struck me as odd, which only heightened my anxiety at the situation.

More than a little scared, I hugged my blankets tighter to me, my eyes darting about to find the source of the voice. I was a child, then. When a voice started talking to me in the dead of night, I got scared.

"H-Hello?" I whispered back, fear leaking into my voice. Discreetly, as if I somehow expected the owner of the voice to not see me, I edged my way underneath the covers.

"Is… Is someone there?"

"I don't know," I whispered back, cautiously peeling back a corner of the blanket from my head. If I couldn't see them, they couldn't see me, right? Surely, the blanket would protect me.

"Am I dead?"

My heart skipped a bit and I felt the blood draining from my face. A ghost? Did I have a ghost haunting me? Oh, please, no! My body immediately shrunk back under the blanket again, quivering in terror.

"Are you?" I squeaked, my heart racing. It pounded so loudly in my chest I could hear it.

"Are you?"

"If I say n-no, will you go away?"

"I-I don't know how. Where am I? I feel, um, different. I thought, I thought, the rocks," the voice then paused for a long moment before continuing, "I thought I should be dead? Am I not? Am I in the Leaf?"

"I don't know," I squeaked again. "We just moved here! I'm sorry if we moved on your grave, Mr. Ghost! I'm sorry! Please don't kill me!"

"K-Kill you? Wh-Why? I thought... Can you see me?"

I didn't want to even try.

"N-No," I answered instead, not caring if it was a lie.

"I can't see you, either. I can't see anything. I can't even feel anything. Are you sure I'm not dead?"

"I h-hope you're not," I whispered.

"I hope I'm not, either. That would suck. But then, being alive would kinda suck too, or at least make my death so much more anticlimactic. I gave that bastard my left eye! What if I am alive, what am I supposed to say to him? Or to my family when they find out? Oh God, Mom would kill me if she found out I did that and I'm still alive. She'd make me go take it back from him. Can you imagine how awkward that would be? 'Oh, hey, Bakashi, sorry but, um, it turns out I kind of need my eye back so if you would rip it out that would be fantastic.'"

I giggled a little at the sarcastic tone lacing his voice, beginning to sit up and look around for the source of the sound. He didn't seem so scary when he complained about how scary his mom could be. My mama could be scary too, so I could relate.

"Oh, not scared of me anymore? I don't blame you, I guess. I'm going to assume I'm some sort of disembodied voice, or whatever; that'd freak me out."

"It is a little freaky," I agreed quietly, still searching for him.

"Ah-ah. Oh, hey, I'm feeling kind of tingly and tired. I think—I think either I'm waking up or I'm being pulled beyond? Ah, well, see you later little girl!"

"Bye-bye," I whispered.

When the pressure left, I returned to hiding underneath my covers and I refused to leave them until daylight came.

That was my first encounter. I'm sure many of you already know who that voice belonged to. You would be correct in saying it was Obito Uchiha, though I did not know that at the time, nor would I discover it for an even longer amount of time.

I'm equally sure that many of you are pondering—how did that make any sense? How was that not more random than a T.V. warp-hole?

Perhaps to you it would seem that way; but, allow me to explain what we (Obito and I) have been able to theorize and conclude.

Obito's Sharingan was a dimensional Sharingan. With his eye(s) he was able to take himself from one dimension to another. When he and I first encountered each other, it was before his Mangekyō awoke and right after his Sharingan first activated. It was unstable, weak, wild, and uncontrolled. In theory his eye(s) could have taken him anywhere in all of the multiverses. The possibilities were virtually limitless.

But it was still a first tomoe Sharingan, and a fragile one at that. We had come to the conclusion that when the rock fell his eye activated once more and transported some form of his consciousness to my world. It was likely that at that place, at that time, for whatever reason, the walls between our worlds were at their most fragile. A scary thought, really, when one stopped to consider it.


My second encounter was perhaps a day or two after my first.

I know, I know what you're thinking. Why would there be a repeat?

In all honesty we still do not know why our worlds were so close together or why this happened or why that happened. All we could do was theorize, and draw our own conclusions. My belief, and his as well, was that any time he was unconscious and at his most vulnerable, his Sharingan would subconsciously activate in memory of his weakest moment: when the rocks fell. At that moment, however, he was there with me. In conclusion, it can be inferred that our encounters were repetitive because some subconscious part of him was drawn to the memory of our first encounter. Be it curiosity, morbid horror, or obsession, we did not know.

But I digress; our second encounter was not much different from our first. And soon, our second became our third, our third to our fourth, our fourth to our twentieth, and so on and so forth. When he would arrive was erratic in my world—it would appear our worlds ran on chaotic timelines compared to each other, but each visit would bring about something similar to the first.

I was disinclined to believe he really was from another world. The name he had given me (Tobi, because he informed me that was a new name he was going to have to get used to) didn't seem odd or inhuman so I had dismissed him as just an imaginary friend of sorts. As had my Papa and Grandpoppy. I couldn't see him; I couldn't even feel him. I truly and utterly believed with all my heart that he was a figment of my imagination.

I know now that he believed the same for me at the time. He believed that I was some conjured figure his subconscious created when he was in a stressful situation. He believed that I was his mind's way of coping. It was with that reason, he would later inform me, that he was so open to trusting me, and relaxing his guard. A habit he would keep, he said.


I no longer believed he was simply imaginary when I turned fourteen after a certain encounter.

A minor explanation is warranted before I continue. The law of erosion played a drastic roll in our story. By constantly picking away at the barrier between our worlds (i.e. teleporting back and forth) he had whittled it down to a point where more than his voice came through. More than that, he had whittled it down to a point where the barrier was thinnest in my room; where I spent the majority of my time.

He relied heavily on chakra, something that did not exist in my world. Chakra was energy to him; it was his lifeline, his dependency, and his necessity. Chakra for their world was spiritual energy and could be virtually molded into anything, pass through anything, and used as anything. The possibilities surrounding chakra were theoretically endless.

So, one night alone in my house imagine my surprise when the figure of a man—consisting entirely of chakra—was found standing in my room looking around.

I stared at it.

I gaped at it.

It turned to me. "Hoo? Mia? Is that you?"

The puzzles clicked. I blinked, my heart instantly calming at that familiar voice I had come to be so fond of. "Tobi?"

It—he—glanced down at his 'hands'. "Huh. Didn't know chakra could—where the hell am I?"

"My room," I answered, a frown tugging down my lips. It was surreal to suddenly have a figment of my imagination take on a physical form. Or was it physical? Did my imagination simply become more creative?

"You have, ah, a lot of technology," Tobi said, glancing around. He seemed transfixed by my laptop.

"Yes," I said slowly. "Are you normally blue?"

"Ah… no, no I'm not. This is my, um, energy, I guess."

"Oh," I said, for lack of anything else to say.

"You—This really is another world?" Tobi said, slight awe in his voice as he continued to look around. He kept stopping and staring at my laptop, inching closer and closer to it as he did so.

I frowned again, feeling an odd sense of worry for my laptop despite him being a figment of my imagination. I crawled out of bed, and moved towards him. In a swift movement I poked his arm, then my hand immediately jerked back.

"Holy shit, you're solid," I squeaked, taking a few steps back in disbelief. I clenched and relaxed my hand, my finger tingly from the odd sensation of touching Tobi; of touching raw chakra. "You mean you're not imaginary?"

He stared at me for a moment before glancing at his arm. He turned to me, then poked me in the forehead. His fingers felt like a brush of warm wind focused and poked me. My eyes were wide. Tobi murmured, "You're solid too."

He turned away abruptly, moving about my room and poking all sorts of things. "All of this is solid. Am I really in another world? All this time I thought—I thought you were some subconscious part of me, or something."

"OhmyGod," I breathed. "Tobi, you're an alien!"

"No, I'm not," Tobi immediately responded, defensive. "I'm human!"

"You're blue!"

"I'm not normally like this, you know," Tobi retorted. "What are you wearing?"

I stared down at my pajamas. "Pajamas. It's night here; bedtime."

"I can see that, I meant your head."

"Oh. It's just a hat."

"Are all hats so," Tobi drawled out the word, as if hesitating to find the next word, "unique here?"

I crossed my arms over my chest. "I like my fox hat. I think it's cute."

"I'm sure you think it is."

"You're mean," I dismissed flippantly. "So if you're human, why are you blue?"

"I don't think I can have my physical body in this world, not for the moment at least," Tobi said thoughtfully, looking down at his hands. "This is weird; really weird. I understand the concept of dimensional travel, I do. After all, my, ah, eye has already created its own world and I've used it frequently but this... This is a little strange. To answer your question, though, I think more than likely my consciousness projected further into this world and my, ah, energy came with it and molded to compensate for my lack of a physical body."

"So this is an outline of your real physical body," I guessed.

He glanced down at himself. "I believe so. It's missing some parts, and I don't think I have hair in this form—"

"You don't."

"—so this is a really basic outline. I guess I'm a bit thankful for that, I would hate for this to be a bit too detailed. You look like you're twelve."

"I'm fourteen," I snapped hotly, flushing in annoyance. "You look like you're sixteen."

"I'm seventeen," Tobi corrected.

I huffed, feeling my irritation drain away. "Well. Anyway, welcome to my humble abode."

"You're room's a mess," Tobi commented. "I thought girls' rooms were supposed to be all neat and organized."

I gave him a look, trying to subtly shove some underwear underneath my bed. Pretty sure he noticed and wisely didn't comment on it. He held up his hands defensively. "My room used to be a mess, too. I was only commenting. So what do you want to do?"

I paused, thinking thoughtfully. "Well, you're new to this world and now you have a physical body. We can probably do more than talk now. Want to play Mario?"

"Mario?" Tobi repeated.

"Mario," I decided. "Come on, you'll get the hang of it. We can use the Wii."



Even after that encounter, he still believed I was a figment of his mind. He thought his mind was simply acting a bit more cleverly in trying to trick him to think I was real, to force him into coping after his trauma. However, my belief was changed. Unless I was somehow psychic as well as schizophrenic—and I highly doubted that—Tobi was someone capable of physically interacting with the world around him. He could bring me drinks, play games, and leave little notes. The only explanation I was satisfied with was that he truly was a visitor from another dimension.

As crazy as that sounded.

More time passed and with it came a slow realization. After each visit, little by little, Tobi was able to stay a bit longer. If only a minute, or a few seconds, it was extended slowly but surely.

That should have been a warning sign for both of us. The reason for his longer visits was because the wall between me and that world was thinning; because he had latched onto me—onto my room—and was subtly creating a connection between his world and mine.


About a year before I fell, I became obsessed with an anime called Naruto. I gushed about the first part (not all of it, bits and pieces, and I didn't give away any spoilers—so I didn't even mention the Chūnin Exams) and the characters. Tobi listened with rapt attention, especially when I accidentally spoiled the death of one Obito Uchiha.

Hindsight, it was no surprise when he wanted to watch the anime with me.

But, he couldn't stay with me for very long. Not enough for a marathon, and I felt like a marathon would be needed to do this anime justice. So I denied him, saying he could watch the entire series with me when he could stay long enough to do so. He tried to persuade me otherwise, but I was adamant. Eventually he consented to my desire.

I still discussed Naruto with him, even Shippūden. I was very careful not to give away big spoilers. Though I did give away a minor ending spoiler.

I know what you're thinking. How could I have been so obsessed with Naruto and didn't even realize I had Tobi of all people as my 'alien friend'?

Do you know what the odds were of that happening? So laughably astronomical, so ludicrous, of course I didn't give it a second thought. You know what they say about humans: give them vague information and they'll draw their own conclusions. That's what I did. I drew my own conclusion and I stuck with it with a fervor.

I should have been clued in, I suppose, when he always inquired about my favorite 'characters' and whatnot. Should have guessed when he was more interested in the Akatsuki than in anyone else in the anime.

Should have.

Never did.

The last full night I spent on Earth was like any other night for me. After studying for my engineering degree (riding on a full scholarship), Tobi showed up. We stayed in my bed, I popped in a movie, and we spent that time goofing off in some manner or form.

A blanket was draped over our legs and a pillow on top of that. I was drifting off, falling asleep on his shoulder, and he seemed content to relax.

Our friendship was a comfortable one. I never felt as close to anyone else as I did to Tobi. I wasn't sure he felt the same, but he knew I cherished him and our time together.

"You still haven't answered my question," Tobi pointed out.

"Mmm," I murmured. "Yes, I did. I told you my favorite character depends on what episode I'm watching."

"That's avoiding the question."

I gave a groan in exasperation. "Fine. It's a three way tie for Obito, Kurama, and Jiraiya. Satisfied?"

"Yep, but I'm still bored."

"What else do you want to do?"

"I'm not sure. I've already been here for three and a half hours and I'm not sure when I'll—"

The pressure eased and he was gone.

Because I had been leaning on him when he left I fell on the bed with a plop.

With a contented sigh, I turned the movie off and prepared to go to bed.

Just an ordinary night. I never expected it to be my last.

I think, if I had, I would have done something a bit more worthwhile. Something more memorable. At the very least I would have prepared goodbyes for my family. The last conversation I had with my Papa was over what to have for dinner, and Grandpoppy was in regards to fixing the router.

If I knew I would never see them again, I would have hugged them with all my worth. I would have told them I loved them, and told them not to worry about me. I would have promised them that I would be okay, and that I would be happy.

I always hated how I left them. How scared, and anxious they must have been. Our family was such a small one, only us three left.

I turned off the lights in my bedroom, grabbing my laptop and crawling into bed. I flipped it open to review my C++ homework before I went to sleep. About an hour into reviewing, it happened.

The pressure came, like it always did when Tobi showed up. Only that time it was so intense, so sharp, and so consuming, it suffocated me. I gave a strangled gasp as all the air left my lunges. Panic set in and I watched with wide eyes as a black tear appeared right where Tobi normally came through.

The sound of—of—of glass tearing and metal shattering rang throughout my ears and I reflexively tried to cover them up. The tear stretched, growing longer and wider, until it was bigger than my bed.

Then it sucked.

I guess I was too shocked to make any other noise after that. Something like—no, the impossible was happening right before my eyes. All I could do was watch, wide-eyed and frozen as my body began to be picked up from its cozy spot on my bed and draw closer to the hole.

Things flew towards it around my room—blankets, papers, items, anything that could be sucked into it. When a hole is torn through dimensions it's not a mirror. It's a black hole.

In only a matter of seconds, I myself was sucked through.

And that was how my story began.

The Question: For those of you new to my stories, I will have a question for (you) the readers at the end of every chapter. I had seen some of my favorite writers do this and it seemed like a fun thing to do. You don't need to answer the question(s) if you don't want to.

My question for this chapter is... What would you do if you fell into the Narutoverse?

Reviews are love.