Part 1 – Death by Dumbassery
I've always believed that if I died, it'd be in some epic, memorable way. Like saving kids from a burning building. Or dying a war hero's death in an alternate timeline where I actually had abs. But no. I, a seasoned anime nerd with the reflexes of a sea slug, managed to get myself electrocuted… while watching the Demon Slayer movie trailer. In the bathtub. With my phone plugged in. Darwin just updated his list, and my name is now in bold italics.
Let me walk you through this:
It was a rainy Sunday. Mood? Peak anime vibes. I was marathoning Bleach for the fifth time, already emotionally damaged from rewatching Jiraiya's death scene the night before. Demon Slayer had just dropped a new trailer. The animation? Liquid sex. Rengoku's ghost flames? Cinematic heroin. My dumbass? Naked in the tub with a half-dead phone and zero brain cells.
Naturally, I plugged in the charger, balanced the phone on a shampoo bottle, and hit play. Thirty seconds in — BAM! — splash. Wet hand meets live charger. My body went rigid like a Mortal Kombat fatality. I screamed like Gojo getting sealed in a Black Friday sale.
"AAAAAGH—THIS ISN'T EVEN A COOL WAY TO DIE YOU PIECE OF SHI—"
Gone. Toast. Burnt like my hopes of getting a waifu. Sparks. Sizzling. The scream of a thousand volts as the phone slipped from the soap dish and kissed the water.
First came the snap. Then the sizzle. Then me, twitching like a Magikarp trying to evolve.
For one glorious second, I floated in a void. Then came the pain. Not the stingy kind. The all-consuming, balls-in-a-blender kind. Like the universe ripped open and decided to use me as its personal lightning rod. It felt like every cell in my body was breakdancing on fire. I could taste static. I could see sounds. And worst of all?
"I'm going to die naked, wet, and alone, watching anime. This is it. This is how my legacy ends. Not with a bang, but with a bath bomb."
A flash of blinding light. A roar of thunder.
My body—no, my soul—was being ripped apart and pulled somewhere. No, shoved. Like the universe was grabbing me by the collar and throwing me out the door.
I wanted to curse, scream, meme my way through the void.
Instead—
BOOM.
A thunderclap rattled my entire existence, and I was falling. Spiraling. Collapsing into something hot, wet, and noisy—
Was that... screaming?
A woman's voice. Panting. Crying.
Oh god.
Am I—?
Don't say it. Don't say it.
I'M BEING BORN, AREN'T I?
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Part 2 – Rebooted, Screaming, and Confused
Darkness.
Silence.
Then sloshing.
Thick. Warm. Wet. Claustrophobic.
I try to move. My limbs feel like overcooked spaghetti. My entire body is squished in a pressure-cooker womb of doom.
Wait. Wait.
No.
No. No. No. Am I… am I back inside?
> "Oh for f***'s sake. Did I respawn in a fetus? What is this? New Game Minus?"
I was just electrocuted in the bath watching an anime trailer like a goddamn idiot.
Now I'm crammed in prenatal purgatory with no exit strategy.
And the worst part?
I'm conscious. Fully. Tragically. Conscious.
Then it starts.
The pressure.
Slow. Creeping.
Like a horror movie build-up before the jump scare. The liquid shifts. The walls convulse.
> "No… no no no no. Don't tell me I'm being born. Again."
The walls contract, and my body—tiny, weak, helpless—is pushed. Every inch feels like a hydraulic press demo on YouTube. My tiny skull is being squeezed like dough through a mold.
> "Who made this system? Seriously, childbirth is just biological torture. This is a violation of the Geneva Conventions."
Bones creak.
Ribs bend.
My head starts folding. Like, actually folding. I feel like a squashed origami crane.
Suddenly—
Air. Cold. Screaming.
I emerge into the world like a plug yanked from a cursed socket.
Crying, gurgling, coughing like a failed YouTube prank gone wrong.
> "Holy hell, it's worse out here. It's bright, it's loud, and it smells like blood and bleach."
Then—smack.
Did this masked dude just slap me?!
> "You glorified hospital goblin, when I grow up I'm drop-kicking your soul."
I hear voices now.
A woman—exhausted but soft. Her voice wraps around me like warmth barely surviving a storm.
"She's beautiful…"
Wait. She?
…Never mind. That crying isn't me.
A few seconds later—
"That's our son…"
My head, wobbling like a defective bobblehead, turns toward the voice.
A face. Pale from exertion, but strong. My mother. My new one.
Please don't die tragically.
Please don't be a background character with good intentions and an early grave.
She whispers something about "lightning" and "blessing."
Uh oh. Sounds like I'm getting weather-themed again.
Then—a flash of metal.
A forehead protector.
A cloud insignia etched into its surface.
Kumogakure.
> "No. Freaking. Way."
Lightning Country. The village of muscle maniacs and chakra flexers.
Land of Killer B, the Raikage, and enough thunder to bankrupt every umbrella store in existence.
And suddenly, I feel it.
Something inside me.
A thrum.
A pulse.
Like a sleeping monster curled at the base of my spine.
Power.
But distant. Dormant. Like I'm holding the ignition key to a car I can't drive yet.
> "What the hell is that? That feeling… is that—chakra?"
I don't know what it is. Not exactly.
But seeing that headband somehow connects the dots in my head.
It's energy. Vital. Raw.
Running through me in silent, invisible rivers.
And just beneath that…
Something else.
Something more unstable.
More unpredictable.
Not chakra exactly—but cousin to it.
Like a storm that hasn't broken yet.
Hot and wild, crackling at the edge of sensation.
I can't name it. Not now.
But it hums inside me like distant thunder.
> "Whatever this is… it's mine. And it's waking up."
I shift weakly, my tiny limbs twitching like a doll in glitch mode.
Around me, the world moves.
Nurses. Tools. Muted voices and blood-slick floors.
My father—a towering figure in a heavy coat—stands at the edge of it all.
Calm. Cold. Watching.
He looks like someone who sells weapons to shinobi and drinks tea during war meetings.
One glance at his eyes, and I know I won't grow up soft.
> "So that's the deal, huh? I get a second shot. In a world where children can blow up mountains.
I'm reborn in a village where strength writes the laws."
And I'm not starting over blind this time.
I know what this world becomes. What dangers it holds.
And I'll be damned if I don't survive it—and burn my name into its foundations.
Not as a shadow.
Not as a background corpse.
But as something new.
Something devastating.
.
.
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Part 3 — "Newborn Nihilist: The Flesh Prison Arc"
Cold.
Wet.
Sticky.
This is not how I imagined my second chance would begin.
A reincarnation should feel like waking up in a lush meadow, birds chirping, maybe a naked angel waifu humming a lullaby while holding a fruit basket.
Instead, I wake up choking on my own spit, shivering like a defrosted chicken nugget in a thunderstorm, and blinking at blurry ceiling beams while something wet oozes beneath me. Not metaphorical wet. Literal diaper-level warfare.
"Ugh. Why do I feel like I'm trapped inside a warm balloon full of milk and existential dread?"
I try to sit up. My arm flops sideways like a raw noodle. No, not even a noodle. Noodles have more coordination. I'm basically sentient oatmeal with eyeballs.
My neck fails me. I do a full exorcist head flop to the side and immediately regret it. Everything hurts. Not a lot, just... in that constant, low-level "I-was-run-over-by-life" kind of way.
I'm a baby.
[INTERNAL MONOLOGUE – UNFILTERED]
"This is some next-level psychological torture. I have all my adult memories, brain cells firing on all cylinders, and yet here I am, making a face like a constipated gremlin while trying to hold in a fart."
"This must be what old billionaires feel like when their brains are sharp but their bodies have the muscle tone of steamed tofu."
"Is this how the Roman Empire fell? Powerless emperors flailing in silk while their empire burned around them?"
I try to speak.
What comes out is:
"Gaaaaaahhh bwuuuuhhh...!"
KILL. ME.
Reality Check: One Month In
Sleep? Garbage. I'm always tired.
Strength? Non-existent.
Dignity? You're kidding, right?
This body… this traitorous flesh prison… betrays me every hour. I cry when I'm hungry, when I'm sleepy, when someone sneezes too loud. The worst part? I can't even control it. It's like my nervous system is wired by a committee of drunken squirrels.
NPCs of My New World
They talk. Constantly. Loudly. Lovingly.
And I don't understand a damn word.
To me, their voices sound like a badly dubbed 90s anime. High-pitched. Distorted. The lips don't match the sounds. There's this one gruff guy with a beard who I'm guessing is my dad — he sounds like someone shoved gravel in a cement mixer and gave it a personality.
Then there's her — mom. Warm, strong arms. Stern voice. Eyes like thunderclouds about to strike a bargain. Every time she touches me, I feel… weirdly safe.
But it's too early to judge. I've seen enough Attack on Titan to know even the smiling ones could be monsters inside.
The Language Problem
"I've watched hundreds of subbed anime, memorized Bleach quotes in Japanese, and recited Naruto's Dattebayo like gospel. Yet here I am, clueless as a rock about what these people are saying."
It's like trying to decode Morse code from dolphins while half-asleep.
I try to mimic them. All that comes out is baby babble. Which they find adorable. Adorable. They smile like I'm a blessing from above.
"Joke's on them. I'm the exact opposite. I'm a 25-year-old keyboard warrior trapped in the body of a half-melted marshmallow."
Embarrassing Moment of the Week:
While trying to control my breathing (chakra training, maybe?), I accidentally pooped myself in front of the entire household. The noise was loud enough to echo. I made eye contact with dad. He flinched.
I think I've declared war on my own pride.
Lately, when I get really frustrated, like when I couldn't reach my own toes or when they put me in a bath that was way too cold, something… flickers inside me.
It's like a soft current — no, a buzz. Not chakra — I don't even know the word for it yet. Just something deep, untouchable, like storm clouds building far off on the horizon.
I don't have a name for it.
But it feels hungry.
[End of Chapter 1]
Total Word Count: ~2,620