Self-insert Alert.

I made this on a whim. I really did. I really need the motivation to write. So much sh*t's been going on and I've been so overworked. Finals are coming up and then Christmas. Ugh.

I can't wait.

Oh, I turned 16 last Wednsday xD

So that's good.

Hope you enjoy.

Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto.

Summary: Dying at 7 sucked. But being reborn as a host to some beast hated by everyone sucked even worse. SI OC. Self-Insert

(^w^)

Life sucked.

Just that.

Being a 7 year-old girl and being diagnosed with cancer wasn't something you would want to hear.

The tumors in my stomach and the ones in my bones didn't go away. I had had numerous surgeries to remove all the tumors, but they always came back.

I didn't have just one cancer. No, I was one of the unlucky ones. I had two different cancers that affected two different places. One affected my bones, it was called Osteosarcoma. A big and annoying word that basically meant I had tumors growing in my joints and on my bones. Most of the time, people who had it lost limbs. I – for instance – lost my left leg, two of my toes on my right foot, a pinky finger on my left and nearly my entire right arm, I was left with a small stubble at the top. The doctor's hoped that the tumors would stop spreading, but I knew that if the cancer liked me enough it would stay. And unfortunately it did.

I hated that the disease struck me, because it was more commonly found in males than females from the ages of 10-19 – something that I found sucked because I was 7 and I was a female, both things being infrequent.

My other cancer was a stomach one. Gastrointestinal stromal tumour; or GIST for short. The tumors grew from the cells of the connective tissue that support the organs of the digestive tract (in English it meant that I had tumors growing in my stomach and intestines.). I couldn't eat normal, because whenever I did I would end up throwing it back up, so I was forced onto fluids that were poured down my throat through a small, clear tube and an IV kept me hydrated. I also had to be forced to urinate since my intestine didn't work right. I couldn't feel when I had to go to the restroom so my parents or the doctors told me to go every hour and a half.

It was just a case of misfortune. That was what my numerous doctors had said. But I was still alive – a stroke of luck apparently.

My parents saw it differently. They saw it as unlucky. They saw it as them losing their eldest daughter. They saw it as a tragedy despite me still being alive. They saw it as something bad because my younger sister wouldn't have someone to look up too and learn from.

I knew that too. I mean, I was sick and it was happening to my own body. I knew that I was going to die, because my body was screaming death and my mind kept telling me I was going to die; sickness just leaked from me. The doctor's had given me another month or so before the tumors spread to my vital organs and onto my heart. I was scheduled to have my other leg removed but when the cancers began taking a turn for the worse, they cancelled it, saying that it wouldn't have helped since it was beyond healing. So now that leg was useless and lay limp next to my other stump.

It was clear to me that the doctor's had given up. There was nothing nobody could do. It was just something that happened. Something that couldn't be helped. I was destined to have this. It was my fate.

My bone cancer grew worse. When the doctor's decided to do a full body scan a few weeks after the amputation of my finger, I lit up like the Christmas trees my parents got every year for the joyous holiday. Christmas was also when my birthday was so it was always a happy thought. It wasn't anymore to my parents.

They were really good people, both holding stable jobs. My mom being on leave (more like she quit) to take care of my infant sister and also to make sure I was still holding on and to teach me; though I didn't really need all the teachings. I learned by watching and hearing what everyone else was saying. I was pretty smart at 7 years of age being over observant of my surroundings and taking in account of nearly everything I saw, heard or smelled, but my parents didn't know that. They just saw me as a child who was dying.

I didn't go to school. I never had the luxury too. Sure, I went to kindergarten for a couple months but when I was diagnosed I was forced to leave. Forced to leave behind the girls I had grown close too, my teacher who was super nice and always smelled like cookies, even my best guy friend who was always running around and playing fun games with me.

Running.

Believe it or not that was something I missed. When my leg had been removed at age 6, I lost the ability to walk let alone run. I couldn't use a prosthetic because it would've been too much and the fitting would've taken to long, I most likely wouldn't have needed it. I missed being able to run around happy and carefree. I missed the feeling of the wind in my hair – that was something else that had been taken. The radiation the doctor's used in a vain attempt to shrink the tumors caused my stark black hair to fall out so it was thin and buzzed short. I missed being able to roll around in the dirt and chase my friends without coughing up blood or getting sick.

I couldn't climb anything either. I mean, I tried to but my arm was taken when I was 6 and a half soon after my left leg was surgically removed. I never learned how to properly climb a tree nor did I learn how to use the monkey bars because I wasn't strong enough and I only had one functioning arm that was beginning to lose fingers.

My body was deteriorating fast and there was absolutely nothing anybody could do. My parents continued to pay for treatments and I felt bad. They were wasting their money on something that was futile. I was dying and whatever treatment they tried just didn't work. The doctor's; highly educated and very intelligent doctors were stumped. They didn't have a clue on why the cancers had decided to come to me and combine so they did double the damage. It was like; I wasn't supposed to be here in the first place. Like I was supposed to be somewhere else and this was God's way of saying so.

I came to a conclusion that I wanted to die. I didn't want to waste my parent's money anymore. I wanted them to spoil my little sister – whom I had very briefly got to know for a few months before I was separated from her because the doctor's didn't want her to get sick. I wanted my parents to save up their money and stop throwing it down the toilet on something useless. Besides if I wasn't supposed to even be here, then why keep trying?

Nothing could help my situation no matter what was tried. I just didn't want to feel like a burden on them anymore.

But still, my body held on. Either by some miracle or the sheer power of my brain telling it constantly to stay alive and my heart to keep beating. It hurt – both physically and emotionally. I could still feel my missing limbs and I always got happy when I felt one of them twitch but when I would look, my depression would arise because nothing would be there. My mental stability dropped and so did my mortality so I was no longer happy and I no longer smiled. My bones always ached and my chest always contracted like I was suffocating and my stomach got unbearably coiled cramps and I couldn't eat without throwing it back up along with bile. I had lost so much weight I looked like a skin-covered skeleton. I lay in the same hospital bed I had when I was first emitted. This time no longer healthy and barely being diagnosed but instead wasting away in the final stage of my cancers.

I knew that soon enough I would pass. I could feel it in the air around me. The atmosphere between my parents and doctors had been changing every day. My body was growing steadily weaker and I was losing important nutrients.

I grew closer to my expiration date. When I was on the brink of death my parents began telling me how much they loved me and how much they appreciated me being their daughter. They cried a lot around me, even as the time changed and the sky grew darker. They told me stories of when I was a baby and they said that they would always be beside me even if I couldn't touch them physically.

I had gotten emotional. But that soon changed when I began sleeping much more often and I lost the ability to move and speak. I couldn't tell them I loved them and I couldn't say that I would miss them too.

Some of my cousins came to visit. But I was barely conscious to hear what they were saying. I could just hear them crying.

I didn't want people crying over me. It just made me feel worse.

A few more days passed and I knew my body was about ready to give out. The tumors had spread very rapidly to the majority of my bones in my skeletal system and the tumors in my stomach multiplied so I was forced to be fed constantly through an IV. I couldn't even feel them anymore because the pain was too much I had numbed myself to it.

My eyesight had been darkening and I was vaguely aware of my parents bringing in a tiny, lit up Christmas tree. Oh yeah, it was nearly my birthday again. What a fun way to go out.

More we love you's were said and more kisses and hugs were said and tears shed. I couldn't stop myself from crying because I would miss them.

I felt my body grow numb and I knew it was time. I closed my eyes and laid back into my Spiderman pillow, my blue blanket over me and tucked at my sides. I was dressed in my favorite pajamas, and I had my favorite stuffed animals piled around me. I felt the bed shift and my parents sat on either side of me. I heard a baby and I knew my sister was there.

I wanted to touch her. I wanted to hold her. And I wanted to say something but I couldn't. It sucked.

My eyesight faded and I was beginning to struggle with each breath. I felt my chest contract and I gave off a large shudder that pulsed through my entire body.

I let my face fall into a smile. I guess I was happy to be dying. I wouldn't be a burden on my parents anymore and they wouldn't have to spend up their money on useless medicines and worthless treatments.

Maybe now they would spoil my sister and give her as much love and care as they did me. I mean, she deserved it much more than I ever did.

I felt my parents hold onto me before the feeling faded away. I heard more I love you's and they said that they were proud of me and it was okay for me to let go that I had done my job and I would be safe.

The smile on my face never left as everything faded away and the beeping of my heart monitor stilled as I gave my last breath.

At least I died happy.

(^w^)

I'll post the first chapter right after this one. I have it written and you'll find out more information about her family.

-EndlessWonderland