It's weird to think about death. Even if it's inevitable, the very concept always felt foreign and intangible to me. I see it every day: on the battlefield, in my village, and occasionally in my own home. I've witnessed the death of those known and unknown: of both friend and foe. I've lost my mother, my uncle, and thousands of other nameless soldiers fighting for my cause. And I know that every day I live is just another chance to die. But this is the life I have chosen. Either by choice, or by birth- I'm not really sure. Regardless, the outcome is the same. I am a shinobi.

Hinata stood up slowly, rain hitting her crouched back. The blood was flowing from her forehead, trickling into left eye and down the side of her cheek. Her body was screaming in agony, but she was much too numb to notice it.

With a violent cough, she removed the large blade protruding from her stomach. She lifted a shaky hand her lips and wiped away the hot blood trickling from the corner of her mouth.

Through her increasingly hazy vision she saw him, the man who owned the sword now in her possession. He had his back turned, thinking he had finished her off. Hate replaced her lack of blood and chakra. How dare he deem her so weak.

With inhuman strength, she tightened her grip on the sword covered in her own blood. She sprinted forward, the heavy sword following in her wake. An enraged and desperate cry escaped her lips as she swung blade. The man had just enough time to turn around as the sword sunk into his rib cage. A crack, heard only by herself and the man, told Hinata that bones that had stopped the sword's momentum had shattered on impact.

He would not survive. His eyes told a brief story of shock, fear, rage, hate and despair before he fell to his knees, and then to his face. He had been killed with his own sword.

Chest heaving, Hinata eyed the man on the ground before her. He was dead, but to be sure, she sent a kunai to the base of his neck. He did not flinch.

She tried to feel triumphant, but all that came was exhaustion. But this wasn't something that could be cured. The blood stain on her jacket was growing larger and darker. She was dying, and she knew it.

Hinata lowered herself onto the ground, laying flat on her back. The cool rain felt good on her hot skin. It washed away the flowing blood, creating a red halo around her body. She turned her head and saw the man she had killed. She turned back to the sky. It was steely and dark and cold. She turned her head to the other side and saw the countless number of bodies. Some were fighting in the distance, while others were lying flat, like her. How many of them did she know? She stared at them for what seemed like an eternity before facing the sky once again.

She put a hand to her stomach and shut her eyes. The rain felt heavenly against her eyelids.

I am a shinobi. I have seen death thousands of times, but I have can only experience it once. I am one of many taken by war, forgotten in the pages of history. But, in a single moment, I was everywhere and nowhere. My body was left behind. I saw my cousin- with eyes mirroring mine- take a small platoon down. I saw a pink haired girl working furiously to save her blond friend. I saw a large dog licking the face of his unconscious owner. I saw a boy with sunglasses crouched behind a tree, tending his extensive wounds. And lastly, I saw a boy with a feral grin and red in his eyes, a boy who had saved me a lifetime ago. And in that moment, they saw me too.

I would never see their faces again, nor they mine. But, I would never truly leave. I had always been puzzled by death, by the thought of not existing. Now that it is here, I am not really afraid. Because, in that moment, I was infinite.