Chapter Text
Finally, the long-awaited summer vacation had arrived, and Ira was overjoyed. She sat by the car window, her cheek pressed against the glass, excitement bubbling in her chest. She was finally going to her grandmother’s house. No more school in the sweltering heat, no more 40-degree days spent in a stuffy classroom. At least for a while, she was free.
To pass the time while waiting for her parents to finish packing, Ira pulled out her phone and opened YouTube, tapping on a video about her favorite anime character—Itachi Uchiha.
There was no one her age she could really share her love for Naruto with. All her friends were into K-pop. She sighed deeply. They’ll never understand.
She had discovered anime when she was thirteen, thanks to her cousin, and it had been like stumbling into an entirely new world. Naruto was her first anime, and though she’d watched many others since then, it remained her favorite. And Itachi? He wasn’t just a character; he was her first love. Her first quickened heartbeat was because of him. She cried her heart out when she learned of his sacrifice, and fought tooth and nail online with anyone who dared speak badly about him. Sure, there were plenty of good-looking shinobi in the show, but Itachi held a permanent place in her heart.
Sometimes she wished the Naruto world were real. Life felt so dull in comparison—school, tuition, studying, and repeating the same routine every day. At least for the next few weeks, she could escape a little.
“Okay, let’s go. We’re already running late,” her father said as he opened the car door and got in.
“You guys are the ones who made us late in the first place,” Ira muttered, rolling her eyes.
Smack! Her mother slapped her lightly on the head. “Don’t speak to your father like that,” she scolded.
Her father chuckled. Ira stuck her tongue out at her mom in return, making a face.
It was almost 3 p.m., so the streets were quiet and free of traffic. As the car glided down the road, Ira focused on her phone again, the familiar world of ninjas and chakra drawing her in once more.
The car moved smoothly along the near-empty road, the hum of the engine blending with the quiet rustle of trees outside. Ira stayed absorbed in her phone, watching a fan-made AMV of Itachi. Her parents chatted lightly, something about groceries, or maybe which road to take. Ira wasn’t paying attention.
Then suddenly—
CRASH.
A truck coming up from behind slammed into them with the force of a hammer. metal crumpling like paper, glass shattering in a flash of light. Ira’s head whipped to the side, her phone flung from her hand as her body was thrown against the seatbelt.
She didn’t even have time to scream.
For a few long seconds, everything was noise and violence—the groan of twisting steel, the awful crunch of impact, her mother’s sharp gasp, her father’s yell cut off too soon.
Then silence.
Smoke.
A ringing in her ears.
Ira blinked slowly. Her vision swam, filled with fragments of light and broken glass. The front of the car was crushed. The dashboard was pushed inward. Her father was slumped over the wheel. Her mother—
Her mother wasn’t moving.
“I—Mom?” Ira croaked, her throat dry, voice barely a whisper. Panic surged in her chest, sharp and cold. “Dad…?”
Somewhere in the distance, someone was shouting. A horn blared and didn’t stop.
Then darkness pulled her under, soft and total, like the curtain falling at the end of a play.
* * *
Ira slowly drifted back into consciousness.
She was sitting on the side of the road in a daze, her legs folded beneath her, hands resting limply in her lap. The air smelled of smoke, metal, and something bitter—blood.
She felt strangely light, almost as if her body was made of air. No pain, no weight pressing down on her. Just… nothing.
Ahead of her, a commotion raged. Ambulances, people shouting. Ira watched in a daze as her gaze shifted to a bloodied figure on the ground.
That woman… I know her.
Mom!
Her eyes widened slightly, but even that felt distant, like the reaction belonged to someone else.
She followed the line of her mother’s body, next to her, another figure. Her father.
He was sprawled near the crushed car, his shirt soaked in blood.
And there, just a few feet away, she was too.
Her own body, twisted awkwardly on the ground, a streak of red trailing from her forehead.
Ira stared. And stared.
“So I… died?” she whispered, numb.
Even as she stared at the scene before her, she felt strangely disconnected. The pain hadn’t sunk in yet. She just sat there, staring, waiting for her parents to wake up, to call her name, to take her hand. But they didn’t.
She waited.
And waited.
And she just kept waiting.
* * *
Time became meaningless. She didn’t know how many days had passed. The world moved on around her, but she remained frozen at the scene of the accident. Her parents never came. No one looked her way. No one heard her when she tried to speak. She was a shadow, forgotten, left behind.
At first, she felt nothing.
Then—
A dull ache stirred in her chest, growing sharper with each passing day. Her eyes grew heavy with tears that hadn’t come before. And finally, she broke.
She cried.
She cried with her whole heart, her whole being. Tears poured down her cheeks as the reality sank in— they’re gone. Her father. Her mother. The warm hands that held hers, the voices that called her name, the love that surrounded her every day… all gone.
I’m never going to see them again.
She sobbed until her voice was hoarse, until there was nothing left inside her but silence.
When the tears stopped, she sat still, hollow.
But why am I still here? She wondered. I’m dead. I saw my body. I should be gone too. Shouldn’t there be something else? A new beginning… a new life?
That’s what she believed. That after death came something—reincarnation, peace, anything but this empty waiting.
But she was still on Earth. Without her body. Trapped.
Every time she tried to walk away from the accident site, something stopped her. An invisible force, like a tether made of memory or regret, pulled her back. She couldn’t leave.
She was stuck.
Then suddenly one day she heard it—A voice.
She didn’t know where it came from. From the sky? The earth? Her own heart? It was everywhere and nowhere all at once.
And just as suddenly—
She was no longer by the roadside. She was standing in a new place.
Soft light surrounded her—pale, glowing, tinged with the faintest hue of pink. There were no walls, no ground beneath her feet, no ceiling overhead. Just endless color, gentle and quiet.
Her heart, so heavy moments ago, felt light. Calm. At peace. The sorrow melted away like mist in the sun.
A soft glow began to pulse in the distance, growing brighter with each breath she took.
Then, from within the pink-hued void, a transparent humanoid figure emerged. Its form shimmered faintly, outlined by light, and though it lacked distinct features, Ira could sense its presence—calm, ancient, and strangely kind.
“You’ve been waiting a long time,” the voice said gently, resonating in the space around her, though it didn’t come from any mouth. “I know. I’m sorry for that.”
Ira stared in silence, her eyes slowly widening.
The figure paused, as if unsure how to proceed. “You see… some miscalculations happened. Things that… well, need to be discussed.”
Although the figure had no face, Ira somehow imagined it scratching its head in embarrassment.
The voice continued, “In the accident… only your parents were meant to die. You were supposed to survive. It would have been painful, you would have grieved, suffered heartbreak, but you would’ve gone on. You were meant to live a long life. Seventy years, give or take. Fall in love. Get married. Have children. Grow old. That was your path.”
The words hung heavy in the air, yet Ira felt oddly detached, like she was watching someone else’s fate unravel.
“But,” the voice went on softly, “because of a… mistake, you died too. Your soul was taken when it shouldn’t have been.”
Ira blinked, still stunned. Finally, she found her voice.
“Um… who are you?” she asked, stepping back slightly. “And—what the heck are you even talking about?”
“Oh! Yes, apologies,” the figure said, as if realizing its manners had lapsed. “I’m the one who’s responsible for overseeing the cycle of life and death. The guardian of the underworld, in a sense.”
Ira’s jaw dropped slightly. “Y-you’re… Yamraj?”
The figure chuckled, a soft, echoing sound. “You can say that. Though I go by many names, in many worlds.”
“So… you’re a god,” Ira said slowly, blinking. “And you made a mistake that got me killed.” Her eyes widened into an expression of pure disbelief, almost comically exaggerated. “Gods make mistakes too…?”
The transparent figure cleared his throat awkwardly, shifting his glowing form slightly as if embarrassed. “Well… everyone makes mistakes once in a while,” he said, trying to sound casual.
Then, clearly hoping to change the subject, he pressed on quickly, “Anyway! We’re here to talk about your death. Since you died unjustly, I’ve been authorized to grant you one wish . Whatever you want, just name it.”
Ira didn’t even need to think.
“A wish? Any wish?” she asked, her voice trembling with sudden hope. “Then… send me to where my parents are.”
There was a pause. A heavy silence.
The figure’s voice softened, tinged with genuine regret. “I… can’t fulfill that wish.”
Ira’s heart sank.
“You and your parents’ karmic ties in this timeline have ended,” he explained gently. “They’ve already moved on… to a new journey. Reunification is no longer possible.”
Ira lowered her eyes.
A hollow feeling spread in her chest like winter frost. She’d finally thought she had a way, one chance, to see them again. To be with them. And now that, too, was gone.
She swallowed hard.
“…Then what’s the point?” she whispered. “If I can’t be with them… what wish could even matter?”
The figure was silent for a moment, letting her sorrow settle like dust in the stillness.
Then, gently, he spoke again.
“I know this isn’t what you hoped for. I know it hurts.”
His voice, though bodiless, carried a strange warmth. “But sometimes, when one door closes, another… unexpected one opens.”
Ira looked up slowly, her eyes still damp. “What do you mean?”
“You can’t return to your old life,” he said, “but you can begin a new one. In another world. A different timeline, a different place, one not bound by your past karma.”
“…Like reincarnation?” she asked softly.
“Yes. But not random this time. Since your death was an error, I’m offering you a choice.”
He paused, then added, “A special chance.”
Ira blinked. “A choice?”
The air shimmered slightly as the space around them shifted. Images flickered faintly in the pink void—glimpses of vast mountains, glowing jutsu, figures in dark cloaks and leaf-patterned headbands.
“You used to wish to escape, didn’t you?” the figure said, with a note of knowing in his voice. “To live in a world beyond your own. One filled with danger… and wonder.”
Ira’s breath caught.
“Wait,” she whispered. “You mean… that world?”
A faint smile seemed to echo in the glowing air around her.
“You loved it deeply,” the figure said. “You dreamed of being part of it. So… would you like to be reborn there?”
Ira stared in stunned silence as her heart began to pound, faster and faster.
The
Naruto
world.
The one she used to watch late at night, laugh and cry over, and obsess about for years.
The one where her favorite character, her first fictional love—
Itachi
—existed.
She barely breathed the words:
“…Can I really go there?”
“Yes,” the figure replied. “But remember: this won’t be a dream. It’s not a show you’re watching anymore. That world is harsh. It’s beautiful, but dangerous. You will be born as a new person, with no memory of this place or who you once were.”
Ira’s eyes widened slightly. “No memory…?”
“Yes. You can’t retain your memories,” the figure said gently. “A human body was never meant to hold the weight of two lifetimes.”
“But—what’s the point if I can’t remember anything?” Ira’s voice grew higher, her words rushing out. “What if I die in the Nine-Tails attack? What if I don’t even want to become a ninja? What if I never meet Itachi or Naruto? Or maybe we met but never got close? Won’t my life be—worthless, then?”
The transparent figure seemed to sweatdrop slightly, even without a face. “Alright, alright,” he said quickly. “I hear you.”
He continued, more calmly, “You can’t have your memories outright, but… for you, I’ll make an exception. You won’t remember everything, but when you meet certain people or experience important moments, fragments might return. In dreams. In visions.”
He paused. “But understand, having visions isn’t always a blessing. It can be painful. Confusing.”
But Ira was practically glowing with excitement now. “I’m fine with that! As long as I can remember some Naruto characters or some events, I’ll manage!”
The figure sighed, resigned. “Fine. Are you ready, then?”
“Wait! Wait—please make me strong enough not to die easily! I don’t need to be a prodigy or anything, but… maybe give me some unique power that others don’t have. Oh! And—”
The voice cut in, exasperated, “Didn’t you just say a minute ago you didn’t have any wishes?”
“Ahaha… that was before I knew this was an option,” Ira said, scratching her head sheepishly.
“…Fiiine,” the figure groaned. “Since it was my mistake, I’ll grant your wishes. But remember, every blessing has a cost. Unique powers can come with their own burdens. Now go… It’s time.”
As soon as he finished speaking, a whirlpool of golden light swirled around Ira. It spun faster and faster, surrounding her completely until everything went white—
And then, silence.
Blankness.
--------------
Konoha village— Hospital
A muffled cry pierced through the quiet halls of the Konoha hospital. The late afternoon sun filtered through wooden shutters, casting warm stripes of gold across the floor. Inside a softly lit room, Kaede clutched the bedsheets, gasping in pain and then relief.
“It’s a girl,” the medic-nin said gently, wrapping the newborn in a warm blanket. Her first cry rang out, shrill and strong.
Kaede, pale and trembling, opened her arms. “Let me see her.”
The newborn was placed delicately on her chest. As Kaede gazed down at the tiny, wriggling figure, tears welled in her eyes. This time, not from pain, but overwhelming joy. “She’s beautiful…” she whispered, brushing a shaking finger over the baby’s soft, deep green hair.
From the doorway, a tall shinobi stepped forward. Calm on the outside, but trembling within. Hayate, jōnin of Konoha, knelt beside the bed, eyes wide as he looked down at his daughter for the first time.
“Our daughter…” he breathed. “She has your hair”.
The baby squirmed a little, then stilled in her mother’s warmth. To their astonishment, she let out a tiny laugh, more like a breathy giggle, curving her eyes into crescent moons.
That simple smile undid them both.
Kaede blinked through her tears. “Let’s give her a name, Hayate.”
“Airi,” Hayate replied. “How about Airi?”
“Airi…” Kaede whispered, smiling. “Like love that blossoms beautifully.”
“Yes. She’s the symbol of our love,” Hayate murmured, placing a hand gently on her head.
The baby blinked, catching a shimmer of sunlight.
Her name would be Airi .