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Stomping on Butterflies

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It was a stupid way to die, it wasn't meaningful in anyway. Maybe it was my fault for being such an idiot, maybe it was just fate.

I had been on a cliff with some friends, drinking around a fire pit. We laughed, joking around like the drunken teenagers we were. "Clay, you fucking asshole!" My friend, Bobby laughed. His laughter was a high and long cackle, so annoying. I rolled my eyes, honestly they got so annoying when they got drunk.

"Oh my god, who got the hyena going?" I groaned, allowing my tone drip with playfulness. It might seem mean to outsiders but that's how my friend group was, we were mean in a teasing way. Instead of shooting an insult back like I expected, Bobby turned and glared at me. 

"Shut the hell up! Who the fuck invited this twerp?" He stepped up to my face, spittle flying onto my face. The reek of alcohol on his breath made me flinch back a few steps, Bobby was the worst drunk, always trying to fight people.

"Did you just say twerp? I swear… Bobby, you are so fucking stupid." Aria giggled, sprawled out on the ground, her hair fanned out.

"Yeah, chill man." Another friend piped up, joint hanging lazily from lips. "Jay's just messin'."

"No! He wanna sound tough, so be tough." Bobby pressed, shoving me back a few inches. I swallowed, briefly looking back to see the cliff edge was too close to my liking. It was a long fall with a rocky shore and that was before the water even reached it.

"Ay, Bobby, you really gotta chill." I began, trying not to show my fear of falling to my death. "I was just joking." If he hadn't been drunk, he would have tease me back instead of acting so violent. This was going too far, Bobby's dark, almost void-like eyes stared me down, never relenting.

"What? You a bitch now?" Bobby snapped, closing in on me. A couple friends got up from their places on the ground, concern in their eyes.

"Bob, he's-"

With one last shove, my feet were no longer planted on the ground. The wind whipped around me and nearly drowned out the sound of the horrified screams.


A sob ripped itself out of my throat, my hair smacked me in the face as it felt like an entirety. 

Sorry, Mom, Dad.

I don't remember hitting the rocky shore.

The next breath I took was in someone's arms, cold and so small. My limbs flailed out wildly, was I still falling? No, I wasn't. My newly small body was being tucked onto a bare chest, a heartbeat in my ears and soft crooning.

Was I doing my life over? I had thought I was either going to heaven or hell but this is completely different. This wasn't talked about back home.

I slipped into unconsciousness.

The next time I woke, my small body was still on the body. There was a soft gibberish, rhythmic like a song but my ears didn't recognize it. It was a foreign language, so… this wasn't my life in a do over. Kinda disappointing, I was looking forward to slumping when I met him again.


He killed me. He fucking murdered me. He was the reason I'm not home. He's the reason I'm a baby. A small hand rested on my head, my eyes flickered open to see a small child staring at me. A wide grin on his face as he leaned in further, my vision got less fuzzy and sharpened as he got closer. The short brown bowl cut made me wince, who did that to the child? It was totally dorky but kinda cute on a small child.

He spoke in the same language as the woman, he smiled brightly at me. His equally brown eyes sparkling, his hand repeatedly coming down to pat my head. This wasn't my family.


Boredom took hold of me and refused to let go. Mundane routines that numbed my brain. Eat, sleep, diaper change, eat, sleep, and it only went on and on. The woman wasn't my mom, she never had spiky white hair that reaches her shoulders. (Long light brown threads, flowing like silk through my fingers)

Red eyes that were clear of any emotions shown, her movements robotic. (Warm brown eyes, like hot chocolate on a winter day. Happily dancing around the house, eyes sparkling all the while)

It was horrifying to have such an empty caretaker after such a loving mom. I wasn't ashamed of my own mourning of losing my family.

The sound of a stampede of small children pulled me away from my mourning. The woman, or This-Body's Mother, had three other kids in her care. The father didn't seem present, or at least, he hasn't been around when I have. The sound of young voices chattering slightly comforted me, it was almost like home (all that's missing is the yelling)

Little Bowl-cut was the first to reach my crib, crooning while smiling wildly. His round face pressed against the wooden bars, big, doe-like eyes gleaming with happiness. Little White lightly grabbed the bars, tilting his head at me while talking softly. Little White was a small boy clone of This-Body’s Mother, the same spiky white hair and red eyes, he was by far the quietest of the bunch. The last one was Brownie, his hair was a spiky light brown, meaning only Little Bowl-cut was cursed with straight hair. Brownie also had red eyes but his was darker, more brown, like blood exposed too long to oxygen.

They talk for awhile, at me and to each other until their Mother noticed. She frowned at them, her tone disapproving, most likely assuming they woke me from a nap. The brothers shuffled their feet, sometimes speaking up with offended tones. They hadn’t woken me up though, so it was kind of unfair.

It’s been a few months since being reborn (fuck you, Bobby), how do I know? My weak, little body gets stronger. My neck, my limb control, my hand to eye coordination all got better and improved. It was relieving, it made me feel stronger, more empowered.

This-Body’s Mother handed me off to Little Bowl-cut (I should really learn their names), the other two instantly encircle us. Little Bowl-cut plopped onto the floor while Brownie handed him a stuffed dog. It wasn't the best stuffed animal I've seen, it was made out of some brown fabric, no fluff to fake fur, it's left eye was a big red button while the left was a small black one.

Bowl-cut attempted to play with me using the dog, he bounced it on the ground to mimic walking. "Woof woof!" Bowl-cut giggled, pushing the dog into my face. Having been forced to play with my past siblings, it was easy to force a laugh. Brownie giggled, his grin stretched across his face. Bowl-cut began talking but one thing was consistent, 'Inu', which to my best assumption was the dog. So, dog equals inu? This language thing is going to be harder than I thought.

"Hashirama!" A voice cut through suddenly. Both me and Bowl-cut flinched, facing some man I've never seen before. He stood in the doorway with a stern expression, his dark eyes hard. Wait… Hashirama?

Goddamn you, Bobby!!

This was Naruto! A fucking Anime that I barely finished. My previous assumption that I had been born to some foreign family on the other side of the Earth but instead I was a Senju! Wait… Hashirama, Tobirama, then two irrelevant dead kids, that's how the birth order went. Did the universe truly hate me enough to kill me off young again? Was it so bad for me to want to live to see twenty this time?!

During the next few weeks, I was inconsolable. If anyone living in the house hated me during that time period, it’d be completely fair. Sobbing enough for my throat to become raw and sore, temporarily losing my voice. It was unfair, my new Mother tried everything to calm me, rocking me into the wee hours in morning. It didn’t help my sleep, only falling unconscious due to exhaustion.

Imagine my surprise when some lady with blonde hair walks into the nursery. Despite being in this new life for months, I hadn’t been outside the house ever. The surprise of a stranger honestly let my wails peter out. Mother slumped instantly, tension leaving her. She then kissed my forehead, moving my hair out the way, as she whispered to me. They talked, about me. How did I know? They kept gesturing and looking at me, it was a dead giveaway.

The blonde lady got close to us, lightly resting her hand on my stomach. Her hand glowed green, it took everything in me not to start screaming. The lady then moved back, smiling at me.


Naruto Universe.


M̷̼̬̠̙̰̓y̴͕͈̟͗͌̕ ̶̩̪̯̮͇̈ņ̸̫͒̉ä̵͚̰́̉͗͊̕m̷͖͖͇͋̕e̵̝͊̓͊̓̏ ̵̡͓̈́͜i̴̢̖͓̺̭͋͐͛͘͝s̵͉̪̐́̄̇̅ͅ ̶̞̖̻͐̆̕J̴̰̍ā̴̝͖̻̘̓y̵̠͉͎͊͂̈́́̉ ̸̞̿͐̾̚͘T̷̳͙̉̿̾̆ą̸͇̙̿̌̎͑̎y̷̝̝̹̋͘l̵̺̫̩̋͛o̸̦̒̓̅ͅr̶̞̺̫͉͑̚͝


My name is Itama Senju. The youngest brother of Hashirama, Tobirama, and Kawarama. This time, I won’t die young.