Hello again, darlings. My three other Self-Insert OC stories seemed to be going pretty well, so I thought I'd try and start my fourth and final one. I'll be taking in everything I've learned from my other stories and incorporating it into this one.

I will tell you now: My main goal for this story is to work on actual CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT.Meaning I will actually be building my character up, making them grow and learn - just like a real story. Meaning my character will actually start off low, but work her way up. She is going to make mistakes. She is going to act exactly like a sheltered girl who died prematurely would act if reborn into this world. You'll see what I mean soon enough. All I ask is that you bear with me up until chapter four, then you'll have a good grasp on what I mean by character development.

With that said...

Disclaimer: I, Darkpetal16, do not own the genius characters of Naruto.

Warning: Death.

Summary: Life can be a cruel thing, especially when it was never meant to be given to you in the first place. Self-Insert / SI OC.

Beta: Searching. For. Enadi

Edited by: Princess Kanako

Dying sucked.

But dying from spinal cancer sucked even more.

Confined to a hospital bed at a very young age, I was literally wasting away, unable to move. Paralyzed from the waist down and eventually completely paralyzed before dying.

Life really, really sucked for me. Dying before twelve, really, really sucked. Never going to school, really, really sucked. Worrying my parents endlessly, really, really sucked. Unable to move, really, really sucked. All in all, I really, really hated my life.

It could have been worse, somehow. I could have been hated. I could have been abused. I could have had some worse disease, died earlier, maybe, but it was still pretty bad.

My parents were good people. They loved me endlessly and did everything possible to make sure I was big sister was amazing, and I knew it was hard for her, too. She loved me and always visited me after school and even brought some of her friends.

She was a good person.

When my big sister, Laura—or as I called her, Lala—visited me, she always brought something new. Either a book, or a movie or game or… anything, really. I loved the books more than anything. She constantly teased me about being a closet-geek. I didn't mind.

When I was around nine, she started bringing in the big stuff: manga and anime. My favorite, as it was for many others, was the ever popular Naruto.

I know, I know, so typical, but it was. I was envious of all the amazing feats they could do. I was jealous of how, despite the hardships faced, they were able to stand up, tall and proud. I wanted to be like that. I wanted to be okay with dying. I didn't want to live as a nuisance. I tried. I really did.

I wasn't sure if I succeeded, though.

When I died, I died before the manga could finish. I died at the age of eleven; February thirteenth at two PM on a Saturday afternoon.

I can't even begin to describe how I felt when it became clear that I died, the physical or emotional experience. I can't, or really, I won't tell you (what good would it do me? There are no known words to describe the feelings I felt) when I started to hear voices or feel such a comforting warmth around me. To constantly hear two heartbeats aside from my own.

I couldn't.

What seemed like a day or so, was really months. And when those months passed, the most horrible thing happened.

Ripping me from that comfort, something forced me into freezing cold air — virtually helpless and unable to move. I knew what it was like to feel helpless. I had gotten used to that feeling. I'd had that feeling for as long I could remember. Being physically and mentally helpless.

I didn't cry.

I was afraid, yes, but only of what was going on. I didn't try to struggle, just took short ragged breaths as I tried to get a bearing of my surroundings. There was someone else crying, a familiar someone. They had left the comfort before I did. They were probably helpless, too.

Rubbed down, dried and wrapped up in a soft blanket, the arms of a giant carried me until… it happened.

The most horrible sense of unease came over me. A cold emotion washed over me and instinctively I recognized it as the intent to kill me. It was foreign and alien.

And suddenly the arms of the giant were gone and replaced with different arms. Arms that held that killer intent.

I quivered, frightened. What was going on?

What happened next was too fast for me to comprehend. One moment I was in the arms of a dangerous person, the next I was in the hold of someone whose voice I recognized. Then once again someone placed me in between the two heartbeats that I had spent the past months listening to.

A voice, the woman, cooed to us, wrapping a long arm around us.

Her voice sounded strained. She was in pain.

What was going on?

Minutes passed and then I felt something new. Something horrible. Such horrendous intent—such a malice force - it overtook me. I whimpered and the familiar heartbeat on my other side sniffled, curling into me. I huddled close to him—it was a him, right?—and the woman held us closer.

More time passed. I could hear screams and explosions and ferocious roars echo around us. I was so scared.

I wanted my Lala, my Momma, and my Papa. I missed them.

What was going on?

Again that man from before, the familiar—good—one came and took all three of us. Such a blur of motion… and the next thing I knew I could feel that horrible malice up close and personal. It was so near I could taste it.

He, the familiar heartbeat, was crying next to me, but I wasn't. What good would it have done me?

Words exchanged. Movement above me. Silence. Pure and utter silence aside from a low growl. More words rang around me. From the woman. She was crying. She was so sad. So heartbroken.

I didn't want her sad.

Then I felt it.

The malice. The intent. That Godawfulohwhydiditevenexist? energy. It moved. It fluctuated. And it went into me.

Fire. White hot, lava burning fire raced through even vein in my body. I wailed, squirming in pain and I could feel he-who-was-beside-me do the same. We cried together, sobbing as that terrible agony raged through us.

And then it was over.

And we were alone.


It took me exactly four months to realize what happened. Who happened. Why it happened. And what the hell I had to do next.

I'll spare you what occurred in those months as it's unimportant. What was important was the new information that came with those months.

I was, somehow, reborn in the manga I adored—Naruto. I became the twin sister of the Naruto Uzumaki, named Miwako Uzumaki, and somehow, I too, became a jinchūriki. I could only assume this occurred as instead of sealing away half of Kurama's chakra forever—Minato, my new father—sealed it away inside of me.

What was I going to do next, you might ask.

I couldn't do anything for a while. My body was still premature. When I was older—when we—were older and living away from this horrible orphanage, then I could start taking action. Then I could finally, for the first in my life, live. But I couldn't do that now. I didn't want to be named a prodigy so soon. That would be too dangerous. Especially considering my status. For the moment, I would mimic my dear brother Naruto.

Then I would be, for the first time in both of my lives, be free.

I could run. I could jump. I could go to school. I could fight. I could read and draw and paint and… I could play an instrument. I could do anything. I wasn't bedridden. I had an ungodly amount of stamina and healing regeneration. I had chakra. I was smart. I could, at last, have the childhood I dreamed of having.

I was… I was capable of doing anything.

Oh God, it felt so good.

This was a once in a lifetime opportunity.

And I was not going to waste it.

Yes. I did just do the very risky move of making an OC the twin sister of Naruto. I promise you though, she isn't a Sue. All I ask is that you bear with me up until chapter four before you decide to scrap it entirely, then you should have a fairly good feel for where I'm going with this.

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.

What are you proud of?

Reviews are love!