2/26/21 Warning: For all new readers, please note this story was written during a dark period of my life where my mental health was at its worst. Kasa as a whole is a hot mess with a multitude of flaws, bad story direction and a reflection of my mental state at the time. With that in mind, please be aware that the story may become aggravating and possibly too toxic for some readers. For those rereading, I want to thank you for revisiting the story and that I feel like I haven't been able to express how grateful I was for all the support and love I've received when I initially wrote the story. Thank you again and I hope you all have a happy and healthier future!
Author's Note: I've been avoiding writing SI's like a plague, but after reading such wonderful fanfic like Dreaming of Sunshine by Silver Queen and a hilarious one like My Life as Ishikari Mayu by TFK-fan118. I couldn't resist. Not sure if I could match up to either authors, but thanks for reading!
Whoever said death is nothing to be afraid of have likely lived a full life. Though, I suppose the same could be said for the reverse. Those who fear death have never truly lived, but I'm getting a little ahead of myself.
My name is Kasa Mon, the idiot who doesn't know how to die properly.
And let me tell you, dying hurts. Not sure if it would still hurt when you're completely dead, but seeing I'm too stupid to die properly… Yeah, I'm going to have to get back to you on that. Where was I? Right, dying and hurting. Try not to die if possible, but if can't be helped—friendly advice—stay dead. Trust me, coming back sucks want to come back.
I won't go into details regarding my first death because who really cares? This was not that story. Nope, this one is way better. What? I'm not lying! Don't believe me? Stick around a bit longer.
Remember I said I'm too stupid to die properly? Keep that in mind, it'll be important. Here's the thing about death. Everyone have their own interpretations of what would happen after they die. Those who are religious end up in heaven, hell, purgatory, nirvana or whatever place they believe they'll end up in. Atheists and others who don't believe in anything… well, they'll end up wherever they think they'll end up after death.
Sounds like a pretty good deal if you have high hopes for the afterlife. Of course, there are those who don't want to die or aren't willing to move onto whatever they think the afterlife is. Now, those people become spirits, demons, and vengeful souls and so on and so forth, typical horror story origin. Where else would these things come from?
Now, Kasa, where are you going with this? Remember when I said I was too stupid to die properly? Death is pretty straightforward, if one believes they go to heaven, they will. If they think they deserve hell, they go to hell. Simple and to the point.
Here comes the big question: What do I believe in?
To answer that, let's get to know me a little better shall we? Don't worry, this still isn't going to be that story, but bear with me a little. Before I died, I was normal—well, as normal as the average person I suppose. I was single with a typical family: parents, siblings, and aunts, uncles the works. Graduated with a normal college education, got a normal job. Nothing worth noting…except, the fanatic side that's obsessed with Japan, games, books and countless other fandoms.
I lost count how many came about over the years, but when I died there was one I was particularly obsessed with. That's right, Naruto.
Before you jump to conclusions and roll your eyes, this little trip is hardly a fan's dream come true. Heck, a nightmare would probably be a better description of what this is. Who in their right mind would want to live in a world filled with dangers like demons, wars and murderous organizations obliterating villages and towns like they were playing god-mode in Sim City?
Okay, I'll admit the idea of throwing elemental jutsus of mass destruction around like a badass was pretty damn cool, but hell what are the chances of me being able to do that? Not to mention I had no clue what the rules of death was when I arrived—No, back up a bit, forget the rules of death, I didn't even know where I was!
One moment, I was screaming in pain and terror from my previous death and the next, I was screaming in terror at the gigantic hands holding my cold and wet body. Where the hell was I? I wiggled and squirmed, but it didn't seem like my body wanted to listen. My vision clouded, my hearing muffled as though I was drunk… scratch that, being drunk was way more fun and less scary.
My mind was clear, but my senses were dull. At first I thought the long years of fanaticism finally snapped the last of my sanity. Why else would I be tended and cared for by giants? Giants that speak fluent Japanese of all things. Even the Japanophile in me is shaking her head at the blatant wrongness of western mythological creatures uttering Japanese. It took all of six months before I realized my mistake.
Why six months? Because it's hard to keep a coherent thought when anyone sleeps for sixteen hours a day and more so when they have a depth perception of eight inches or less. The lack of motor skills and control over my bowel movement and bladder was enough to drive me mad. Anytime I was awake, I did whatever I could to get any semblance of control. Not that I ever managed much, the rain always lulled me back to sleep. It always rained.
During this time, I learned that the names of new my parents, Somoku and Tesuri, the Japanese giants. Why am I still harping about them speaking Japanese when it's obvious they're not really western mythological creatures? The reason, my mother has red hair, natural red hair. Don't get me wrong; I love red heads. In my previous life I wished I had red hair, but here, it made no sense whatsoever. Her roots were red and I've never heard of any non-European with natural red-hair.
Even if this were a figment of my deranged mind, why isn't it in English? Japanese was a language I barely know aside from basic greetings and questions.
The weirdness doesn't end there, far from it. My father's coloring was even more bizarre, blue. Who has blue hair? What was he? An anime character? The thought was almost enough to throw me into a giggling fit. Keyword: almost. Why didn't I? Because when I tugged his hair, checking whether or not his roots were blue, I noticed it was covering something.
I have no clue how I looked when I saw that metallic plate against his forehead. My jaw must've dropped because he chuckled at my expression and pinched my cheek. There was no way anyone in this fandom that cannot recognize a ninja hitai-ate on sight. Oh, and remember what I said about nightmare? He wasn't wearing a Konoha hitai-ate.
Four lines, it was Ame, the symbol of the Hidden Village of Rain. The village of civil wars and the base of Akatsuki… Guess what my first word was in this world?