Chapter Text
Fuck you, world.
Fuck you!!!!!
Kazami Sera screamed into her pillow, cursing her luck and the rest of the deities she could think of. It took her a few minutes of being angry and throwing shit around for her to calm down. The hospital nurses left her alone after she threw a pillow at them as she continued to throw a tantrum. They all thought she was mourning the death of her father who was an alcoholic who was using her as a punching bag when he had a heart attack.
Good riddance, was all she thought venomously. The asshole was the reason she was in the hospital in the first place. Most of her body was covered in bruises and she was extremely lucky he had not broken any of her bones. She could have done without the concussion though.
When she woke up a few minutes ago, the memories started to pour in and she was understandably angry.
She could not remember her name previously but she knew she was a 27-year-old woman who had a job and was quite satisfied with her life. She had money. She had her family. She was studying for another degree.
And then this. She obviously died since. From what, she had no idea.
But first things first.
Looking down at her skinny, short arms, she groaned in dismay and frustration.
She was 4 years old. Again.
Her body felt heavy and looked malnourished. The last time she remembered having this skinny a wrist was when she was 5 years old and a hyperactive little shit who barely had the attention span to sit down for a proper meal.
She was also an orphan. Though she could care less about her abuser, she was uncomfortably aware that being an orphan meant no means of providing for herself. No money, no food. And that also meant, social workers are gonna send her to an orphanage.
The most important issue at hand is the fact that she was a stranger here. She didn’t know anyone. Though she was begrudgingly thankful that she could understand the language and the writing system used. It was something similar to what she imagined AllSpeak to be.
Deep breathing exercises helped her center her thoughts into coherence. Her shitshow of a second life needed her focus and that was a thing she could do.
Facts: She was an orphan and she had no money.
It was inevitable that she’d be placed in an orphanage. Whilst there, she could maybe start finding herself an occupation of some sort. Small chores and manual labor she could do at her age and size.
She could remember a few of her favorite books, she’d replicate those if she can. She also had to find herself a music teacher or someone who can teach her how to play a guitar or a piano. She’d even take the flute if it meant she could put the numerous songs she inadvertently memorized be put to use. It’ll be a way for her to decompress or remember. And maybe someone will hire her as singer. Chances were grim though, so she put that in the back burner. That's a dream for another day.
Once she gets older, she’d find a way to get herself an apartment. She’d have to ask at what age she can live by herself.
She made a mental checklist. Shelter. Gather information. Find a way to earn money.
Even if it took her years, she can wait.
Operation: Independence Day is a go.
++++++++
What the fuck was wrong with these people?!!!
Operation: Independence Day was supposed to take years.
She was afterall, four fucking years old! A time of boogers, bobos and nap time. She had psyched herself up for the whole shenanigans of a life of a four-year-old.
The irresponsible asshats allowed her to stay in her parent’s house with a monthly stipend!
Maybe she shouldn’t have argued and used the other child who was dealt with ahead of her as a basis. She had managed to have a conversation with the blonde ball of sunshine since she could feel as if she knew him from somewhere she couldn’t remember.
Of all the moronic and morally reprehensible things to do to a child!
Looking back now, it was a little bit funny seeing the completely confused look on the social worker’s face when she practically seethed when she was allowed an apartment. She had stiffly thanked the social worker before she took off, stomping down the streets.
~Strangers on the road watched in bemused amusement as a tiny little girl charged unto the streets. Her face set in a scowl – almost looking like she was almost frothing from the mouth – made her look adorable instead of the homicidal look she was probably aiming for.~
She ducked into a little ramen shop and placed her order of chicken ramen. While she waited, she had to do several breathing exercises to calm herself, mumbling to herself.
Unknown to her, a couple of chunin, watched the little tyke argue with herself. They listened to the hissed string of insults to whoever it was that displeased her under her breath. She acted like a wet hissing kitten. Liable to scratch the nearest person and look adorable doing it.