"For life and death are one, even as the river and the sea are one."

Khalil Gibran

Trigger warning: suicide

I remembered dying. Every second of it. The feel of the cold bath water on my skin. The sharp sting of the blades as I dragged them vertically down my wrists, one at a time.

Horizontal for attention, vertical for results.

I remembered the feeling of the life draining out of me. There was no panic, no regret as people said there would be. I had wanted this for so long, had yearned for it for over a decade. Life had never been my friend.

I remembered the relief as the darkness drew me into its comforting grasp.

Finally, I had thought, a few tears sliding down my face. No more pain, no more having to live. It had been exhausting to live, all I wanted was to rest. To escape from it all.

Rest was what I received. For so long that it was pointless to try and keep time, I rested. In life I had often pondered what came after, I hadn't expected the cocoon of warmth, the comfort of nothingness that it brought. It was nice, peaceful. I could have stayed in the cocoon forever.

I should have known it wasn't going to last.

There were lights and voices and nothing made sense. I could hear people talking but couldn't understand what was being said, my eyes were open but I couldn't see.

Had I failed? I was so sure what I had experienced was death. Things would be harder now, so much harder. The realization filled me with dread.

With seemingly no other option, I cried. It felt good to cry.

Suddenly, I felt my body being lifted up without a struggle and tucked into the crook of someone's arm. That didn't make any sense. I was a grown adult, it wasn't possible for someone to lift me with such ease.

I stopped crying. There was an inexplicable urge to continue, but I was confused. Logically, I knew crying wasn't going to get me anywhere. So, I stayed silent, confused, and scared.

The voices talked to me, talked around me. The sound was comforting despite them being completely foreign and unfamiliar. They called me Ashi. That wasn't my name, was it? I couldn't remember, but it didn't sound right.

It wasn't until six months later that I understood. The blobs of color were clear, my vision was back. I was able to see my miniature hands and pudgy limbs.

Reincarnation. Interesting. Disheartening. I didn't want to live, didn't want to have to participate in life, it was exhausting.

I quickly identified the people who I assumed were my parents. A fierce looking woman who seemed vaguely familiar and a man who I could only describe as looking timid.

"She's so quiet, Hana was never this quiet." My father (that would take some getting used to) commented and my mother snorted. I look up from my position cradled in her arms, definitely fierce. She had strange red markings on her face. With my limited motor skills, I reached one of my pudgy arms in an attempt to feel the red markings.

"You like these Ashi? You'll have them too one day." Mom said, voice gentler than I thought her capable of. Why would I have those strange markings though?

"I'm just saying, maybe we should bring her to the hos-"

"She's fine." Mom snapped, pulling me closer to her chest. "So she doesn't cry all damn night, so what? She's my daughter, I can tell that she's fine."

Dad sighed before turning and walking out of the room. An enormous black dog seemed to take his place, slipping in as he slipped out.

The dog had an eyepatch. It was adorable.

I twisted in mom's arms, reaching out towards the giant dog. It could probably eat me if it wanted, but I'd be damned if I didn't pet that dog.

"Looks like she likes you Kuromaru." Mom laughed, a loud, boisterous noise, moving from the couch onto the floor and placing me in her lap. Yes, bring me closer to the dog. I babbled happily, arms reaching for the puppy. The dog, Kuromaru, would have to bridge the gap between us if I wanted to pet him.

Kuromaru almost seemed to sigh before taking a few steps forward and putting his head in reaching the distance of my hands. Due to my nonexistent motor skills, I couldn't really pet him, but just having my hands on him was enough.

"Remember how much Hana cried when she saw you the first few times?" Mom asked, chuckling at the memory.

"Yes, my appearance isn't the most kid-friendly," Kuromaru said and I continued happily patting his head for a few seconds before freezing.

Wait...

Did.

That.

Dog.

Just.

Talk?

"Meh, Ashi seems to like you well enough." Mom continued on as if nothing unordinary had just happened. She was having a conversation with the dog. That wasn't so strange, I had talked to my pets all the time before. The difference was that my pets never talked back to me.

What the fuck?

It wasn't until dad walked back into the room a few minutes later that everything fell into place. The green jacket he was wearing, the red marks on mom's face, the fact that the dog just fucking talked.

"I'm going on a mission Tsume."

Tsume was my mom's name.

Tsume Inuzuka.

I hadn't just been reincarnated. No, I had been reincarnated into the Naruto-universe.

A/N: Edited by Empress Crowillow

A/N 2.0: Just want to reiterate that I am in no way trying to glorify suicide here. It is a horrible thing despite the way I portray it. I have firsthand experience with it and wouldn't want anyone to read this and think it was okay.