Pain.
An overwhelming, all consuming pain.More than anything I had ever felt in either life. It wasn't coming from one place, it was everywhere. Every nerve, every breath, every inch of my body screamed at once. I couldn't see. I couldn't smell. I couldn't hear. There was only the agony.
And then, suddenly, it stopped.
My senses snapped back all at once. I opened my eyes and immediately threw up all over my pajama shirt.
Wait… pajamas?
I was wearing a hospital gown when I died. Why am I in pajamas?
I wiped my mouth, coughing, and forced myself to look around. I was in a small room, definitely not a hospital. It looked like a child's bedroom. Wooden toys were scattered across the floor, the walls were plain, and a single window with drawn curtains sat to my left.
A black nightstand rested beside my bed, with a thick book on top. The title read:
"The History of the Yellow Flash - A Chronicle of the Accolades of Minato Namikaze."
I froze.
Firstly, that wasn't English. It resembled Japanese. I knew several languages, but Japanese was never one of them… so why could I read this?
Second: Minato Namikaze?Naruto's father?Why would a real book about him exist?
Did Kishimoto release new content?Did I miss something?
I put that thought aside. The puke was soaking into my shirt, and the sight of half digested noodles confused me even more. I hadn't eaten food like that in years.
I stood up, and froze again.
I was… short. Extremely short. Way shorter than my already pathetic 5'0" from my last life. I was maybe 3'9" or 3'10". My hands were tiny. My legs were tiny.
No.
No way.
That's impossible...
But what if…?
I ran to the window and ripped open the curtains.
I gasped.
The Hokage monument stared back at me from a distance, the faces of the first four Hokage carved into a mountain. Below, a busy street bustled with vendors, shinobi in green flak jackets, and civilians going about their day.
A high pitched voice slipped out of my mouth before I could stop it.
"Have I been reincarnated into the world of Naruto?"
I sat on the bed for a long time, thinking.
Slowly, like a dam breaking, new memories surfaced… memories belonging to this body.
His name was Rajin Makoto. He was five years old, a boy from the Hidden Leaf Village. His father had died a year ago during the Nine Tails attack, the same attack that killed Minato Namikaze. His mother, Rika Makoto, survived and worked as a medical-nin. The only thing that kept her going after losing her husband was the fact that Rajin still needed her.
All this information flowed into me naturally, layered on top of my own memories, as if both lives were trying to merge.
I tried to remember the last moments of my life.
My mom. My lover, Mia.Their hands in mine. The hospital lights.
Tears filled my eyes.
But everything after that memory, after I watched my own soul rise, was blank. Like something had been ripped clean out of my mind.
Maybe the missing memories would return. Maybe not.
I looked out the window at the monument again, still struggling to believe this world was real. But one thing was obvious, this body was healthy. Energetic, even. Nothing like the decaying husk I left behind.
And this world had superpowers. Chakra. Jutsu. Entire systems of strength I could train in.
A real second chance.
I stood up, excitement welling in my chest for the first time in… ever.
"I've decided! I'm going to live this life to the fullest. No matter what happens, I'll always give my all. This is a gift, and I won't waste it. I won't!"
A warmth surged through me.A burst of energy unlike anything I'd ever felt.For the first time, life felt vibrant instead of grey.
I glanced down at my vomit stained pajamas.
"…Maybe after I change."
I cleaned up, changed the sheets, and put on the clothes laid out in the dresser. Then I found a full length mirror.
Rajin looked… normal.
Short black shaggy hair, average height for his age, an ordinary face.
But his eyes, his eyes were striking.
A piercing, light green color.
Almost glowing.
"I wonder if I have any bloodline abilities…" I muttered.Probably not. The Makoto family wasn't a clan, just a civilian family that produced decent shinobi at best.
I was wearing three fourths black baggy pants that wrapped at the bottom, a simple white shirt, a light green jacket, and black open-toed sandals.
"He'll grow into his features. His dad was pretty handsome…"
I left my room and went downstairs, taking in the house layout. Two bedrooms upstairs with a shared bathroom. Downstairs, the living room connected to the entryway, with a shoe depression by the door. A cozy kitchen branched off on the right, with a dining room tucked under the staircase. A basement door sat near the dining room, along with a second bathroom.
This place was… nice. Too nice, based on the memories. Without Rajin's father's income, his mother couldn't afford it much longer.
Maybe I could fix that eventually.
I picked up a framed picture on the coffee table. Rajin at four years old, smiling between his parents. His mother, blonde hair, brown eyes, pale skin. His father, black hair, light green eyes.
So I looked exactly like him.
I wondered what it felt like for Rika to see her husband every time she looked at her son.
I put the picture down and sat on the couch, grabbing paper and a writing utensil. I needed a plan.
First: act like Rajin. At least until I was older. Rika was an elite chunin medical nin, deception wouldn't fool her easily.
Second: learn my new body. Even as a weakling in my past life, I could already tell this one held far more energy. Chakra, probably.
Third: research. I needed to go to the library and study body strengthening methods for children in this world. Human biology plus chakra meant training rules were different from Earth.
Rock Lee trained like a demon as a kid and became a monster. Maybe I could do the same.
Long term:
learn my chakra nature using chakra paper
build a physical foundation
explore taijutsu or kenjutsu routes
consider seals like the Flying Raijin?
investigate potential sage contracts
I might not be a clan kid, but Rajin had potential, and now he had me.
Should I hide my growth? Or lean into the genius angle?
Attention was risky…but resources, training, and guidance were priceless.
I tapped the pencil against the paper, then grinned.
I think I know exactly what I'll do.